It Began with a Crush (The Cherry Sisters)

by Darcy, Lilian

  “See you when that odometer kicks around again,” Steve said. “It’ll probably be sooner than I want.”

  “Good to catch up.”

  “Yeah, it was.” Steve left at last.

  Mary Jane emerged from her hiding place, brushing her palms down her skirt and tidying her hair as if she felt dirty and a mess. She didn’t look it. She looked adorable…terrific. Cheeks still a little pink. Hair still tumbled. Selfconsciousness giving her a human warmth that Joe responded to with a hunger he hadn’t known was in him.

  “Sorry ’bout that,” he said to her.

  “Sorry I hid. Steve is a pest, and always has been. I run into him occasionally.”

  “Thought you might.”

  “He’s always really happy to hear about other people’s shattered dreams. Makes him feel better about his own.”

  “Yeah, I got that, too.”

  She laughed. “Oh, wow! So obvious?”

  “Maybe I’m just incredibly perceptive.”

  “Maybe you are…” She gave him a sly grin, this time.

  “So…tonight,” he told her, needing it more, now. Wanting it more.

  “Yes. Tonight.” There was a power in the two simple words that suggested she felt the same.

  Chapter Nine

  It was the age-old female problem, Mary Jane decided, looking in her closet.

  What to wear?

  Joe had confirmed the dinner plan on the phone after talking to his father, but he hadn’t said anything about where they might go, or whether he’d made a reservation. She had no idea if he was picturing a fancy restaurant meal or wings and nachos in a bar, and the whole thing was complicated by her doubts about the signals she wanted to send.

  Was it really about signals? Hadn’t she already signaled quite a bit?

  Too much.

  She felt her own vulnerability like an ache in her bones. Like nakedness. If Joe had picked up so fast on Steve Wright’s malicious pleasure in other people’s life failings, then he would have no trouble picking up on how much she yearned for what he had, and what he had to offer.

  What was that phrase, “low-hanging fruit”?

  That was her. Ripe and red and ready to fall into his hand without him even having to reach for her. It wasn’t a sin or a crime or a fault, not at heart. She did know that. It came from the best things about her. She had a lot of love to give, and not enough people to give it to, and she felt thwarted by this, deprived of the best chance to be who she was.

  It made her…well, all the things she’d felt before.

  Naked.

  Vulnerable.

  Wanting.

  And there seemed to be nothing she could do about it, because she’d been trying from the very start Tuesday evening.

  Lee was downstairs right now, staffing the office for the evening. Mary Jane had told her what was happening, who she was going out with tonight, and Lee had whistled.

  Which was so unfair!

  Lee should know what this was like after her big dramatic romance with Mac so recently—having a baby on the way before they even knew if they had a workable relationship. They’d soon decided that they did, and now they were so loved up with their wedding plans that it was…sickening…or wonderful. Mary Jane felt both, depending on her mood.

  But maybe this thing starting to happen between her and Joe wasn’t that same kind of glorious love. Wasn’t remotely like it, and Lee could recognize the difference.

  I can’t dress as if I’m giving myself to him on a plate.

  So she deliberately chose something much safer, an outfit that she wore around the resort when she wanted to be pretty and professional but comfortable, too—a plain skirt in a soft gray that fell in nice folds around her legs and a white knit top that didn’t cling too close.

  Makeup, dangly earrings and heeled pumps made it all work for a more formal setting, if that was what he’d chosen. But if they went to a bar she wouldn’t be overdressed.

  “You look great,” he said when he picked her up, meeting her out front of the office after she’d just come back from checking on everything with Daisy in the restaurant, and she had to laugh at herself for fretting over the whole issue because, really, he’d barely looked at her.

  Well, not at her clothes.

  He would probably have said she looked great if she’d been wearing sweats, and he would have worn that same heated, hazy look on his face. He would have done the same flicking look up and down her body that told her he was looking through her clothes, not at them.

  It shocked her—and melted her—and she loved it…that he was prepared to show his desire for her so clearly. And maybe she was no better, because she, too, was way more aware of his body than his clothes—the dark pants, the smart polo shirt and casual jacket, and underneath all that olive-tan skin like satin over his muscles.

  “Where are we going?” she asked him, wondering if Lee was watching them through the office window, and what she was thinking if she was.

  “No idea,” he said. “Didn’t get that far.”

  “No?”

  “Got as far as arranging things with Dad and calling you and having a shower and jumping into the car. Sorry. You were expecting something—”

  “I wasn’t expecting anything. I don’t mind where we go. Anywhere.”

  He looked pleased about this. Because it let him off the hook? Or because it gave away her giddy need? “There’s a waterfront place a few miles up the lake,” he said. “Do you know it?”

  “Yes, we have their brochure, and guests have said good things. I’ve never eaten there myself.”

  “Dad and I took the girls there for lunch when we first moved back here. Menu’s nothing fancy, but the atmosphere is good, and it’s a nice night. Sound okay?”

  “It’s fine. I really don’t mind.”

  “Neither do I.” He squeezed her suddenly. “I don’t mind anything. Except this. This is great. This is wonderful.”

  “Yeah? Is it?” She tried to smile.

  “Don’t you think?” He hadn’t stopped squeezing her. He was pulling her close, planting a huge kiss on her temple and another one on her hair.

  She went shaky because it felt too wonderful. The casualness of it. The lack of game-playing. He was kissing her in strange places just because he wanted to, and because later they would get to the usual places, the intense places.

  Was Lee watching?

  Mary Jane didn’t even care.

  They went to the restaurant he’d talked about, overlooking the lake a little farther north, where it was quieter and less densely populated by motels and resorts and summer homes. They sat out on the open deck and ate fishermen’s baskets of crumbed seafood, along with salads and fries. He had a beer and she had a glass of white wine, and then they shared a huge slice of cheesecake for dessert.

  The cheesecake was crumbly and messy and very, very sexy to eat, sharing the plate, watching him scrape his teeth across his lower lip to gather in a smear of sweet, lemony cheesiness.

  What did they talk about? Hard to say. It was a whole, rambling wander of a conversation about the girls and his dad and his law studies and the resort remodel and her sisters and his brothers, never touching too seriously on anything.

  Not until right at the end, when they’d been talking about the girls again and he asked, “What about you? Do you like kids? You must have them up to your ears around the resort in summer, but do you want any of your own?”

  He took her so much by surprise with such direct questions that all she could do was be honest about it. “Yes, I do like them. I do want them. I always have.”

  “Just hasn’t happened? You’ve never been married?”

  She sighed. “Short answer, Joe, is that I wasted too much time on the wrong man.”

  “Give me his address.”

  She laughed, relieved that he’d joked about it. “No need. Over it now.”

  “But you can’t get those years back.”

  “No, that’s right, I can’t.�
� And how needy and desperate did I sound just then? “What about you?”

  “Can’t get the years back, either. What, you thought I had a time machine?”

  She laughed again. “No. You know what I mean! Would you want another baby—babies—if you were in another relationship?”

  It was so totally and absolutely not the kind of question you were supposed to ask on a first date. She couldn’t believe she’d been so blunt and upfront. But then he’d been just as direct, and he’d said it first. They both seemed to be feeling the same urgency, the same need to cut to the heart of things. She didn’t want to ask herself why, in case the answer seemed too dangerous.

  “I would,” he was saying. “I’m daunted just thinking about it. But I definitely would. With the right woman. Because it was so wrong last time, with the girls. It’s nearly killed me to get them back on track…to get us back on track, the three of us, as a family, and I don’t think we’re quite there yet. I’d like to see what being a father is like with the right foundations in place. I’d like some joy, and some sharing, at the baby and toddler stage, instead of all the hell and fear.”

  He stopped, and she couldn’t find any words, so he helpfully pointed out to her a minute later, “You’re not saying anything.”

  “Uh, no, I’m not.”

  “Does it sound weird, what I said?”

  “No. It sounds…impressive.”

  He gave quite a shout of laughter at this. “Impressive?”

  “Yes. That you would think that way. Must take courage. To want to go through it all again. Even if it was very different, the second time around.”

  “Courage…or craziness,” he suggested.

  “That, too. I’ve always wanted to embrace the craziness. Glad I’m not alone.”

  “You’re not.” He reached out for her hands across the table, and she met him halfway and didn’t know what was happening.

  Too much.

  Too fast.

  Too nice, all of it, and she couldn’t trust that.

  He squeezed her hands tight, then softened his grip and caressed her skin lightly, sending tingles up her arms and all through her body. “Should we get going?” he said softly.

  She nodded.

  They drove back, and when he pulled in front of the Spruce Bay office, he cut the engine at once. The office was closed and in darkness, since it was after nine-thirty. Lee would have locked it before driving up to Jay, but of course Mary Jane had a key.

  She took a deep breath. “Are you coming in?”

  He answered in that low voice of his, “If I’m invited.”

  “You’re invited.”

  Her heart began to beat faster as soon as she’d said it. Just a handful of words between them and she was jumping in with both feet. She hadn’t done this in so long. The last time had been a short-lived fling on one of her intrepid vacations, several summers ago. She’d spent her days in Turkey seeing ancient ruins and dramatic landscapes and her nights being whispered to in Danish by a lovely guy five years younger than she was, with both of them knowing there was no future in it.

  It had unsettled and saddened her more than she’d expected, so she hadn’t done it since. A little flirting, yes, but no sleeping together. She’d discovered that making love to a man was the key that unlocked her heart, and it felt too painful and wrong when it didn’t go anywhere.

  So she felt raw…and rusty…and in a kind of danger she clearly understood—and she wanted to sleep with Joe anyway.

  Her hand wasn’t steady as she unlocked the office and hit the lights. Joe was right behind her, touching a hand to her waist and then letting go again, closing the door with a soft click as soon as they were both inside.

  He didn’t wait to kiss her until they’d climbed the stairs. Instead he turned her into his arms right there by the door, and whispered in her ear, “So glad you said yes.”

  “So am I.”

  He held her, strong arms making a warm wrap for her body. “Are you shaking?” He pressed his mouth to her neck, and it made her tingle and draw in a shuddery breath.

  “Probably.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I haven’t done this in a while.”

  “Snap.”

  “Really?”

  “Don’t.”

  “What?”

  “Make assumptions about who I am, based on who I was.”

  “Okay.” She couldn’t if she tried, the way he was kissing her. She couldn’t do anything anymore, except loll in his arms and react to what he was doing to her. Which was blissful. Mouth everywhere, whispered words of pleasure and need. Hands like heaven.

  By the time they went upstairs, her legs would barely move. He went behind her, with his hand on her butt the whole way, and she liked it there. When he felt for one moment as if he might let the contact drop, she stopped so that he caught up, and leaned back into him, feeling his weight and strength and heat behind her, holding her in place. “Keep touching me. Don’t stop.”

  “Hell, no!”

  They went direct to the bedroom—the one she’d had since childhood, but had revamped a couple of times since then, to reflect her adult self. There was no nonsense about having coffee beforehand, or talking. They didn’t even turn on the lights. The cream drapes were open and there was plenty of light coming in. Moonlight, and the low lighting in the resort grounds.

  He peeled off his jacket and shirt, while she didn’t know where to start. Shoes. Earrings. She was still fumbling with those when he reached for her again, the bare skin of his torso so hard and silky and warm and beautiful that she couldn’t keep her hands away.

  He slid his hands inside the waistband of her skirt to push it down, and she managed to let go of his chest and get the second earring, fiddling at it. He seemed to take this as a signal that he was supposed to do the rest, and she stood there helplessly, in a net of sensation, while he slid her top up over her head and dropped the skirt to her feet and made love to her underwear.

  “It’s blue,” he said.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Been wondering what colors you liked.”

  “All sorts of colors.”

  “I like blue. And all sorts of colors.”

  “Take it off…please?”

  “Not yet.” He traced his fingers over the bra cups, instead, and she knew he must be able to feel her hardened nipples. Then he explored the lines on her backside where her panties ended and her skin began, and the whole universe narrowed just to this—that one line of flaming, erotic touch against each cheek, and then at the crease at the top of her thighs, and then the whole twin round shapes of her butt lightly squeezed in his hands. “Now I’ll take it off,” he said on a growl.

  Her breath was so shuddery she couldn’t reply.

  He took it off slo-o-w-ly, starting with the straps of her bra. One, then the other. Teased from her shoulder with that knowing, whispering touch. To tackle the fastening, he turned her around and pressed his whole body against her back, which probably wasn’t necessary in order to get those hooks undone. In fact it impeded and delayed the process. But she had no complaints.

  The hot, rippled press of his body against her near-naked back, the ridge she could feel nestling itself in the middle of her backside through the fabric of his pants, his hands cupping her breasts from behind. Why would she complain?

  Finally, he stepped back a little and reached for the hooks. The bra fell. He slid her panties down from behind, also, and she stepped out of them, then rolled around and back into his embrace. “You now, Joe.”

  “That’s easy,” he muttered, and proved the truth of this with a few quick movements.

  Naked, he was…

  Well, she didn’t have words.

  He was there.

  And beautiful.

  And hers—for now, at least.

  They closed together again, nothing in the way, everything a mass of clean sensation. She touched his hips, the hard muscles at the backs of his thighs, the sleek shape of hi
s spine. The dark hair on his chest pressed against her breasts, and his mouth was a long, long, delicious feast.

  Finally, they arrived at the bed, peeling back the covers and falling against the cool cotton of the sheets. He lay over her, weight half on his forearms, mouth an inch from hers, the heaviness of his body warm and utterly wanted.

  Crunch time.

  She remembered something. “I don’t have any… I mean I’m not—” She brushed the hair back from his forehead, the gesture a kind of apology for her lack of preparation.

  “If you’re talking about protection…”

  “Yes.”

  “Came prepared. I put ’em on the bedside table before.”

  “Oh, I didn’t see.”

  “No, you were busy… Was hoping for this from the start, you see,” he said. The words were rushed and low and confessional. “Plotting it all evening.”

  “We both made it pretty obvious.”

  “I liked that.”

  “Me, too.”

  “You’re amazing, Mary Jane.” His eyes were so dark.

  It was incredible to her that they were doing this, that it was really happening. It filled her whole world, right now, and seemed to answer every bit of the yearning in her heart. “You going to amaze me, Joe?” she asked him almost shyly.

  “Going to try.”

  He didn’t have to try. It came naturally to both of them. He lavished attention on her whole body, tracing a path of fire down from her mouth to her breasts and lower. She arched her hips to meet him and almost exploded in seconds, and when he stopped to reach for the packet on the bedside table, she whimpered in loss.

  He wasn’t gone long, and when he came back… First thrust perfect, instantly filling her, stopping an ache she’d forgotten existed. Or maybe had never known. He made love like a musician, playing her body, making it sing and writhe, his rhythm perfect and filled with intuition about her desires.

  She came first.

  Helplessly.

  Not expecting it yet.

  It swamped her, flooded her and she cried out as it swept her away. He held on to her bucking body and anchored her safely in this world, because she might have gone into some other place if he hadn’t, and never come back again.