by Bobbi Smith
He kissed her again, wanting to distract her thoughts. "He's dead now, he can never hurt either of us ever again. We've got our whole lives ahead of us..."
"Do you think anyone is as happy as we are right now?" Jordan sighed dreamily.
"I'd like to think so..." Nick answered, but his tone left a question unasked.
"Who are you thinking about?" She knew him well and knew when something, or someone, was on his mind.
"I was thinking about Slater," he replied slowly, remembering all his friend had been through. "I'd like to think that he's found some measure of contentment."
"I do too. He's been a good friend to both of us."
"He's a very special man."
"He's a lot like you..."
"You think I'm special, do you?" Nick shifted his body over hers, bracing himself on his elbows above her as he fitted his hips intimately to hers, his flat stomach pressed to her slightly rounded one.
"Very," she replied huskily. Then, with a laugh in her voice, she asked, "How much longer do you think we have until we can't lie together like this anymore?" Jordan's smile was impish as she thought of the baby she carried deep within her...Nick's child... Charles's beloved grandchild...
Nick slipped a hand between their bodies to caress the soft beginning swell of her growing abdomen. "I'm not sure, but I think we'd better take advantage of what time we do have, don't you?"
"Absolutely..." She put her arms around his neck, pulling him to her, her lips seeking his with reckless abandon.
Their unending desire for each other flared to life again. Each kiss and touch led to another and another as their insatiable hunger grew. Their mouths met as their bodies fused into one. Nick's passion fanned the flames of Jordan's excitement until the heat of their joining ignited in a fiery explosion of ecstasy. Consumed by the wonder of their loving and giving, they reached ultimate rapture together. In breathless delight, they clung to one another, knowing that their strength lay in their mutual love and that their love would last forever.
In his bedroom on his plantation north of New Orleans, Slater MacKenzie lay alone on his solitary bed. He had celebrated Philip's and Peri's wedding that morning; what a perfect couple they made! He had spent the day with Nick and Jordan, marveling at their enduring love. But when he'd come back here to his home and found himself alone, memories of his own true love kept surfacing.
Slater didn't want to think about Frangesca. It hurt him too badly to remember the wild, passionate love they'd shared and to acknowledge that he would never know her kiss or her touch again.
The way she'd died still haunted him. Sometimes he almost wished it had been any other way, so he could have been with her, loving her until the very end.
A restless misery filled Slater. He rose from the bed and went to the window to stare out at the nightshrouded fields. His view was to the East... toward Cuba.
Slater suddenly realized that he would have no sense of inner peace until he'd found out the complete truth about Francesca's death. Only then would he be able to say his final good-bye to her. Turning away from the window, Slater grimly decided that now the time had come.
