Pamela Hearon – My Way Back to You (страница 11)
Jeff dabbed at the tears with a tissue from the box in the backseat. “You know what I think?” She shook her head. “I think we should be celebrating.”
She straightened, taken aback by his declaration. He cupped her cheeks, directing her gaze toward his with hands that were warm and gentle. Being with someone at that moment felt nice.
“I mean it, Mags. We’ve done a hell of a job with this kid. We should be proud of who he is, who we’re sending out into the world. He’ll make it a better place.” Then he released her and shifted the car into Reverse. “We’re going back to the hotel and celebrating.”
Maggie was in no mood to celebrate and planned on heading to her room as soon as they got there. Surprisingly she was able to get her tears under control during the drive, and by the time they got to the lobby, she was almost herself again—except for the puffy eyes. And the thought of going upstairs to her empty room was no longer appealing. So when Jeff took her hand, she allowed him to lead her into the lounge to a table in the shadowy back corner with a high-backed love seat. It was dark enough she didn’t feel conspicuous about her red eyes and nose, and cozy enough to relax.
A few couples were taking a turn on the floor, dancing to the pleasant melodies of the soloist with the smoky voice and her accompanist. When the server came to take their order, Jeff didn’t ask her preference.
“We’ll have a bottle of Pol Roger Brut Réserve and two glasses,” he said.
“A whole bottle of champagne?” Maggie asked as the server walked away. “That’s a little much, isn’t it?”
Jeff grinned, his white teeth gleaming against his tanned face, made darker by the dim lighting. “Only three glasses each. And we’re not gonna gulp them. We’re going to sit here and savor them for as long as we want.” He cocked his head in question, his gaze flitting over her face. “You better now?”
“I’m okay.”
“Good.” Her hand lay on the love seat between them and he patted it lightly. A couple of hours ago, that touch would have sent a shock wave through her. But saying goodbye to Russ seemed to have desensitized her, leaving her a little numb. Jeff pointed out the window to the street beyond. “What a shame. You came all the way to Chicago and didn’t have a chance to shop the Magnificent Mile.”
“I actually had a couple of hours this morning. While you and Russ were playing your practice round, and having man time with Spike, I was hitting the shops.” She tried to sound contrite, but she couldn’t keep the grin from her face when Jeff cringed at the mention of Spike. “All you two got were sore ears and a plastic trophy. I scored a dress, two pairs of capris and three pairs of shoes.”
His face sobered, and he took a long breath. “Kind of like old times. Me slaving in the hot sun while you shop.”
He pinned her with a hard look, but then both corners of his mouth twitched, and he dissolved into laughter. “We were quite a pair, weren’t we?”
She nodded her smiling agreement just as the server arrived with their order. The young woman opened the champagne discreetly—no big fanfare to draw attention to the dark corner—and filled the two glasses.
Maggie leaned forward on her elbows, watching the bubbles as they caught the light and danced their way to the top. “It looks like some kind of magic potion.”
“It is.” Jeff picked up the two glasses and handed her one. His gaze was direct, his eyes soft. “Drinking this will wipe away all the bad times and help us remember only the good. Like Russ...and last night’s kiss.”
Maggie’s heart skipped a beat—apparently she wasn’t so numb, after all.
Jeff raised his glass as one of his eyebrows arched in both question and challenge.
Maggie tipped her glass, touching the edge to his. “To the good times—past and future.”
* * *
MAGGIE’S WORDS SENT an impact through Jeff that left a crater the size of Lake Michigan, which instantly filled with desire. The kiss last night had lit the fuse, and all day he’d been affected by the slow burn. He’d managed to throw the energy into his golf game, crushing the ball with his driver at each tee box, playing like he’d never played before.
But now, it was Maggie he wanted to crush...in the most tender of ways. But he couldn’t simply suggest they go up to one of their rooms and get it on, even if that was precisely what he wanted to do. This was a special night—the kind that came once in a lifetime. He would make it last.
The champagne truly was a magic elixir. He watched it bring a sparkle to Maggie’s eyes and a blush to her cheeks after just one glass. But when a girlish giggle bubbled out of her during one of his stories that wasn’t
While they waited for the food, the pianist broke into a jazzy swing tune. Dancing was one of the things they did together in college and were good at—second only to lovemaking. “Want to dance?” he asked, unsure if it was something she still enjoyed.
“Yes!” Her answer was nearly a squeal.
As they fell into the rhythm, the years fell away, and their bodies moved in perfect precision. They swung, they twirled, two hands clasped, then one hand and an underarm turn. Both of them anticipated the movements of the other as if the entire dance had been choreographed. Jeff was vaguely aware they were clearing the dance floor, but he didn’t let it stop them—tonight was all about the good times. Besides, he and Maggie had often done the same thing in college.
“Ready?” he asked as the song neared its end, and she nodded.
“Ready.”
He sent her into an impressive set of underarm twirls and prayed she didn’t get sick like she did that time at the frat house—their first clue she was pregnant. The last notes brought her tightly against him and he dipped her dramatically. The lounge went silent and then a hearty round of raucous applause exploded from every corner. To Jeff’s amazement—and slight embarrassment—the open passageways into the lobby had filled with onlookers as people had stopped to watch the impromptu show. With their arms around each other’s backs and a couple of waves to the crowd, they sauntered back to their table and anonymity, short of breath, panting and hanging on to each other for support.
“I haven’t danced like that in twenty years.” Maggie’s words were punctuated by gasps as she plopped onto the love seat, sliding over to make room for him.
“Me, neither.” The exertion from the dance had given him a momentary respite from the erection he’d sported most of the day, but Maggie’s breathless exclamation shifted it back into forward gear. He tried to ignore it as he poured them more champagne and relaxed against the back of his seat.
Maggie stacked some cheese onto a crostini and drizzled it with honey, then held it up in offering. Rather than taking it from her, he opened his mouth and she fed it to him. He closed his lips around the bite, deliberately catching the tips of her fingers in a small suck to gauge her response.
She didn’t flinch. Didn’t draw back. On the contrary, she allowed the tip of her middle finger to linger a fraction longer before dragging it down the middle of his bottom lip. Her lids drooped to half-mast, and she gave him a smoldering smile as she leaned back against one shoulder, her face and body turned slightly toward him.
His eyes dropped from hers to her mouth, mesmerized by the way her lips parted sensually, her tongue touching them, making them glisten in invitation.
He took a sip of champagne to wash away any of the lingering cracker, then leaned toward her, bringing his mouth to hers in answer. She left her hands as they were—one lying between them on the seat, the other relaxed in her lap. Her lips coaxed him deeper, parting for him, allowing small, sexually charged whimpers to escape, which sounded like both need and satisfaction.
And that kiss was just the beginning.
As they talked and laughed away the rest of the champagne, it was obvious that they both knew exactly how this magical night was going to end.
And so, during the last dance—a slow one that pressed her against him, making her aware of the effects she was having on his body—it came as no real surprise when she whispered to him, “Do you have condoms?”
“That’s a loaded question,” he whispered back, enjoying the way his breath on her neck caused her to shiver. “If I say no, where does that leave us? But if I say yes, it’s as good as admitting I went to the drugstore in anticipation of this after last night.”
Her cheek rested against his as her fingers played softly with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I hope the answer’s yes.”
“Then it’s yes.”