Pamela Hearon – My Way Back to You (страница 7)
She turned it off and placed the phone back on the table, but not because he told her to do it. She was finished looking... Definitely gray. They would resume this conversation in the morning. She settled under the covers again.
“Rosie.” Eli’s tender whisper shimmied through the darkness. “Slide back over here, and I’ll make
She laughed and did as he asked, snuggling into the crook of his arm. He kissed her sweetly a few times then with more purpose, and her tiredness got tangled among the sheets as their excitement rose and the pace of their movements accelerated.
They didn’t take long. After forty years, there was no experimentation and nothing new. The new had been sorted through years ago. What worked was kept and had now become part of the routine. What didn’t work had been lost with no remorse. What remained was the best of the best, carefully chosen, deeply intimate and immensely satisfying.
Their sighs mingled as they held each other in the afterglow, and soon the familiar rumble that would become Eli’s snore began to take form.
Rosemary changed her tactic and began counting the breaths rather than the non-breaths. It made more sense to pay attention to what gave life to this man she adored.
She’d only gotten to seventeen when drowsiness caused her to lose interest. With his body spooning her back and his arm across her front, she felt warm and complete.
Life without Eli?
The thought induced another shiver.
She snuggled closer against him.
“WE COULD’VE WALKED faster than this.” Maggie blew out a breath and cut her eyes toward Jeff in the passenger seat. “It’s only seven miles.”
He pressed his lips together as if he intended to give that some serious consideration, but then he shook his head. “I’m not about to walk seven miles in this heat unless I have a golf bag over my shoulder.”
Maggie snorted. “Some things never change.”
As on the previous afternoon, heavy traffic lumbered its way up Lake Shore Drive. Though she’d added the grumble for effect, Maggie didn’t really mind the slow ride. The morning sunshine and the excitement of being in the city—not to mention the company of the man in the car with her—had her blood pumping. She’d allowed herself plenty of time to relax this morning, eaten a hearty breakfast to chase away any growls her stomach might consider making and had chosen a pair of shorts she could wear with sneakers.
Yeah, she’d prepared herself for moving day and the ten thousand trips they would make back and forth to the car with Russ’s things.
What she hadn’t prepared for was the slam to her stomach brought on by Jeff’s smile when she’d stepped off the elevator. Or the delicious tingle his presence gave her in the close quarters of her car. She should find some comfort, she supposed, knowing a part of what they’d had still remained—a kind of validity that what they’d felt for each other years ago had been real. And maybe he felt it, too. The smile that had greeted her this morning had seemed genuine.
“Spike Grainger was in the bar last night,” Jeff said.
The comment came out of nowhere as the light turned green and traffic started moving at a faster but steady pace.
“Who?”
“Spike Grainger. His son Matt is one of Russ’s teammates. Anyway, he was pumping me about you.”
“I didn’t bring you up. He did. I think he’s interested. But you need to be warned that he’s only been divorced for three weeks and his ex is on her honeymoon.”
Her ex-husband was trying to fix her up with somebody? Maggie bristled, not exactly sure why she found this extremely irritating—except that she’d shared some things with him last night that had left her feeling vulnerable. She certainly hoped she hadn’t come across as desperate. “Thank you, Mr. Matchmaker, but I don’t need your help finding a man.”
“I wasn’t helping you find a man,” Jeff bit back. “I’m helping you
“I told you about Zeke, so now you think I’m some pushover where men are concerned?”
“I didn’t say that, Mags.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“I think Zeke was a bastard.”
“Let’s drop the Zeke subject, okay? I’m good. Things are good.” Her hands were aching again from gripping the steering wheel too tightly, just like yesterday. She let go with one and stretched her fingers as the silence continued for a couple of minutes.
“You dating anyone?” he asked.
When she’d first found out Jeff was coming to this orientation, Maggie vowed she wouldn’t get into all the subterfuge some exes seem to find necessary. She pretended to focus on the traffic as her mind contemplated whether or not this was something worth lying about to him. She decided it wasn’t. “No. I haven’t been out with anyone since...you know.” She stopped herself short of the conversation topic she’d just banned. “Oh, guys have asked,” she added. “I’ve just been too busy.”
“How is business, by the way?”
“Fabulous.” Not having to exaggerate about the hair salon she owned in Paducah brought a smug smile to her face. “I have ten stylists and four nail technicians now.”
Jeff’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Wow, impressive.”
She’d always assumed Russ kept his dad as informed about life in Kentucky as he kept her about life in California, but maybe she’d assumed too much. “My best friend Emmy’s my assistant manager, so everything runs smoothly even when I’m not there. Time with Russ has been my top priority the past few years.”
“He’s a great kid, isn’t he?”
She glanced away from the traffic long enough to share a proud, tender smile. “The best.”
The car went quiet again, and then Jeff gave a cough that sounded forced. “Did you...um...” He gazed at Lake Michigan on their right. “Did you date much after we split up?”
“Not for years,” she admitted. It was the first open reference either of them had made to their divorce, and her heart squeezed in response. “And only a couple of guys before I met...Zeke.”
“I never questioned Russ too much about you...or your personal life. Didn’t want him to think I was prying.”
Maggie nodded as she pulled into the parking lot and headed for a spot.
“But, now we’re together,” Jeff continued, “I realize how much I don’t know about your life, so I’m trying to catch up on those lost years. I figured the best place to start was the beginning.”
Dread dropped into her stomach.
“Those first few years after we split up may have been a beginning for you.” She cut the engine as her fingers found the door handle. “To me, they felt more like the end.”
* * *
THE WEIGHT OF Maggie’s last words stayed with Jeff all day. And while he tried to imagine that weight being carried on his shoulders, it sure as hell felt more like it was hanging somewhere inside his chest.
As soon as she’d uttered her comment, she’d leaped from the car and joined the other parents arriving for the tour. She’d also volunteered to join a different tour group than the one he was in—on purpose, he suspected. It was as if she didn’t want to be anywhere in his vicinity. And it wasn’t lost on him that Spike Grainger volunteered for the same group Mags had, taking up the last spot.
Everyone came back together for lunch, and Matt and Spike joined them at their table. As Jeff predicted, Spike grabbed the chair next to Mags. All through lunch, he laughed too loud and too long at her jokes, flirted outrageously and made a complete ass of himself.
Mags was friendly with the big brute, but she didn’t return his flirtation. In fact, Jeff thought he could almost read a hint of sympathy in her manner, but he wasn’t sure.
Time was when he would’ve been sure. He’d been intimately familiar with her every mood and every nuance of every mood. If she bit her bottom lip while they were making love, she wanted to play, but if she chewed her bottom lip while they were making love, she wanted him to take the lead and explore. And explore he always did.
The memory brought on an erection that came and went throughout the afternoon, springing to life at Maggie’s throaty laugh, lessening when he-man and his son came to help after getting Matt “all moved in in no time flat.”
They’d finally left two minutes ago, and their leaving had brought relative quiet to the room—although the hallway was still crawling with boisterous teenage boys.