by Deborah Camp
Matthew made a chiding face. “Frito and I are buds, Zaney. He can do whatever he wants back there.”
She leaned closer and kissed him on the cheek as she patted his thigh. “Thanks.”
His gaze drifted to her and a lazy smile inched up one corner of his mouth.
The scenery became familiar, jarring her from her thoughts. Zaney pushed her bangs out of her eyes and peered at the passing street signs. “Turn right up here,” she said, unsure of why she was directing him to a place she’d told herself she never wanted to see again.
“Okay.” He whipped the car onto the tree-lined street. “Why?”
“He lives on this street.” She swallowed the lump forming in her throat and flexed her hands which had doubled into fists. “Fletcher Miller. My father.”
“Oh? You want to visit him?”
“No!” She shook her head for emphasis. “God, no. Just drive by, okay?”
“Sure.”
She felt him watching her, no doubt concerned about her frame of mind or that she might start blubbering or venting. If he was like a lot of men, he wouldn’t want that kind of scene. Lucky for him, she had no intention of any emotional outburst. Curiosity had gotten the better of her and she’d given in to it. Twisting a little, she angled so that she could get a good look at the wide lawns and stately homes they passed. His was at the end of the block. “Slow down. It’s right here. On the right.”
The two-storied Tudor fit in with the other estates. A low, brick wall surrounded the property and a black wrought-iron gate was shut to visitors. The driveway circled around a fountain centered in a grassy area and trees and flowering shrubs framed the house. It was picture perfect.
Zaney realized that Matthew had stopped the car. She motioned with one hand for him to proceed and he removed his foot from the brake to let the car roll forward.
“When was the last time you saw him? Were you just a kid?”
“I saw him three years ago.” She shifted to face forward again. “At a restaurant.”
“You had dinner with him?”
“No.” She ran her hands through her hair, trying to tame it as the memory of that evening twisted through her, sharp as a knife. “Mom and Steve took me out for dinner. It was my twenty-fifth birthday. As my rotten luck would have it, my father took his family out that evening to the very same restaurant.”
“How did your mother react?”
“She didn’t see him and I didn’t point him out.”
They drove for a few blocks, emerging onto a street that fronted the water. He parked the car facing the shore and switched off the engine. His gaze sought hers.
“Talk to me, Zaney. I want to hear about it.”
Staring at the water, she breathed in the redolent air and felt the leaden sensation in her heart whenever she thought of her father. “Not much to tell, really. I spotted him. He was there with his whole family and they were having a wonderful time. Talking, teasing, laughing. I was dumbstruck for a few moments and then I panicked a little because I didn’t want Mom to know he was there. I didn’t want to spoil my birthday dinner for everyone.” She shook her head, recalling the odd mixture of feelings she’d had that night. Panic, morbid curiosity, hurt feelings, anger, resentment. A mélange that left her struggling not to show any of them so that her mother wouldn’t suspect that something had upset her. “Mom and Steve were sitting with their backs to them and I was facing them, so they never saw them. I excused myself and went to the restroom while we waited for our food orders.”
“You went to the restroom so that you could get a better look at him and his family?”
She nodded. “I peeked around the corner and watched them. His wife isn’t as pretty as Mom. He has three children. The youngest was in college then. The other two were married and one of them had a toddler. I’m sure they don’t know that I exist.”
“You don’t think he ever told them about his first marriage and child?” Matthew asked, his eyes widening a little in shock.
“I’m fairly sure he hasn’t.” Her attempt at a laugh was weighted with rancor. “I fantasized about springing myself on them. Stepping up to the table and saying, ‘Hi, Dad! It’s my birthday. Why don’t you join me and Mom for the celebration? Bring my half sisters and brothers along, too. Oh, and their mother.’”
Matthew’s smile barely tipped up his lips and never reached his eyes. Sadness permeated it. “Seeing him like that must have hurt like a motherfucker.”
She drew in a shaky breath. “Yeah. Yeah, it did. It was like I had a knife and I kept stabbing myself with it as I stood there and took it all in. Their happy faces and animated conversation. But then I focused on him. They didn’t really know him. They wouldn’t have believed that he could father a child and desert her. He even stopped paying child support after he married again, the bastard. I told Mom she should have dragged his butt to court and have the money taken out of his fat check. He’s a college professor, for Christ sake! Tenured now.”
“She wouldn’t do it?”
“No.” She crossed her arms, warding off the bitterness that coated her. “Pride is admirable, but it doesn’t pay the light bill or help send your kid to camp. Mom never complained or anything. She just put her head down and worked. And loved me. I always knew I was loved.”
“That’s obvious.” He rested a hand on her shoulder. “You were able to leave the restaurant without your mother ever knowing he was there?”
“Yes. The waiter brought a little cake with candles to the table and I froze, thinking that my father would see me then. But I don’t think he ever even glanced in our direction. We left first. I was petrified that Mom would spot him, but we walked outside while Steve settled the bill.”
“And you never told her about it?”
“No.” She shrugged. “What would be the point? To let her know that he spoiled my birthday that night?”
“I have this urge to drive back to his place, knock on the door, and tell him what I think of him.”
“No.” She rested her hand on his. “But, thanks for the urge.”
“Thanks for telling me about it.”
“I trust that you’ll keep it just between us.”
“I will.” A somber expression stole over his face before he arched one brow. “You trust me?”
“Of course. Friends trust each other.”
“So do lovers.”
“Is that what we are now?” She could barely manage a whisper. The meaning behind the question seemed to suspend time and her heartbeats.
“I believe so. Or that’s how it’s supposed to be until that trust is broken.”
She sucked in a breath, needing courage. “Look, I don’t want to put labels on us or make you uncomfortable.” She angled a knee up on the seat to face him. “I just want to know what this is.” She gestured between them. “What are we now? Lovers? Friends with benefits?”
He chuckled. “Isn’t that labeling?”
“Yes, but I need a reference point. I’ve never had a good friend and then had sex with that good friend before.”
“It’s a new experience for me, too.” He shifted and slid his hands into hers, giving them a squeeze. “How about if we let things play out? Go with it. Enjoy it. We don’t have to have a name for what we are to each other at this very moment.”
She tried to see it his way, but couldn’t. What she wanted was to be his girlfriend. Had he ever had one of those since Carin? “Who was your girlfriend after Carin?” she asked, wincing inside for blurting it out. But that was her modus operandi. As she expected, he gave a little jerk, squeezing her hands involuntarily this time.
“My girlfriend?” he repeated as if she’d spoken in Cantonese.
“Yes. Who did you date for a reasonable length of time after your divorce?”
He hummed and glanced up at the sky. “Let me think. That was a while ago. Jennifer? Well, she wasn’t a girlfriend. I saw her a few times. Maybe Tessa. We went out for a few months. Nothing steady, though.”
He scowled at that assessment. “I didn’t set out to not have a girlfriend. I wanted my independence. You know what they say, ‘once burned, twice shy.’ And I was burned to a crisp.”
“Are you still nursing your wounds? Still pissed off?”
“No. I’m over it. Way over it.”
“But you’re keeping yourself closed off.”
“Am I? I wasn’t open enough for you last night and this morning?”
She lifted one of his hands and kissed the back of it while eye-flirting with him. “You know what I mean. I trust you, Matthew. Do you trust me?”
“If I didn’t, you wouldn’t be here, Zaney. I’ve never brought a woman here before. I’ve never talked to another woman about how my ex-wife did a number on me. Hell, the only people I’ve talked to about Carin are my parents and Seth. And my parents don’t even know the whole, ugly story.” His lips feathered hers, light as a sigh. “You can be my girlfriend, if you want.”
She heard the amusement tingeing his voice and smiled against his lips. “Is that so? This isn’t a screwcation and then when we’re home again, it’s back to being the good friend across the hall?”
“Screwcation?” He leaned away from her to tip back his head and chuckle. “You made that up.”
“Maybe.” She placed her hands on either side of his head and drew his mouth to hers again, kissing him deeply and making him moan. When she lifted her mouth from his, his eyes were still closed. Frito snorted and whined in the backseat. “Frito is ready to go back to the house.”
“Excellent idea, Frito.” He made a show of adjusting himself in his jeans, grinning when she laughed at him.
“You want to get something straight between us, Mr. Birdsong?”
His eyes glinted in the sunlight and his teeth flashed. “You have some girlfriend duties to attend to, Miss Miller. As with all titles, yours comes with certain expectations.”
Chapter 15
The Stars Align
The last night in Connecticut Matthew sat in the porch swing with Zaney. She stared at the stars, drinking in the sight of them and he stared at her, drinking in the length of her lashes, the way her nose tipped up slightly, and the fullness of her lips.
“It’s crazy how many stars there are and that we can only see a handful of them in the city,” she said, running her hands along his arms wrapped around her waist. He nuzzled the side of her neck and blew into her ear, jostling a giggle from her.
“They’re always there. It’s like my feelings for you. I might not always show you how important you’ve become to me, but the feelings are always there.”
She twisted around to see his face. He lifted one brow, questioning her surprised expression. “That was poetic. What brought that on?
“You.” He placed one hand alongside her face. “Just little, old you.” His lips warmed hers. “I can be poetic when the mood strikes me.”
Shifting onto her side, she rested her head on his chest. “The time away has been good for us. I’m glad the lights went out in Manhattan.”
“I hope you’ll view Darien as a good place from now on.”
“I will.” She rubbed her cheek against his plaid shirt. “But I’ll always know that he’s here. I can’t forget that, no matter how much I might want to.”
That cowardly bastard. How could a man walk away from his child? Forget all about her? “What would you do if you ran into one of his kids here?”
“Nothing.”
“You wouldn’t be tempted to tell them that you’re related to them?”
“Not in the least. Why would I want to make his other children uncomfortable? It’s his place to tell them. Not mine.”
He kissed the top of her head, admiring her logic while anger roiled inside him. “You’re a better person than me. I’d relish the chance to burst his bubble. It would serve him right, having to explain to his kids why he’s kept you and your mother a big secret.”
“I don’t need him in my life now and neither does my mother. Back when I was a kid? Yes, I would have liked to have had him around some. But now? I hardly ever think of him.” She threaded her fingers through his and brought his hand up to her lips, kissing his knuckles. “You’re close to your folks, huh?”
Her question brought images of his father and mother standing together, arms around each other in solidarity. They weren’t a passionate couple – as far as he could tell – but they appreciated each other and honored their relationship. “Yes. I’m lucky that way.”
She leaned sideways and looked up at him. “You’re lucky in a lot of ways and so am I.”
Staring into her cat eyes, he felt his heart expand. Damn if she wasn’t right. Meeting her, being with her, had been an incredible stroke of luck. He hadn’t realized how empty his life had been until she’d filled it with her effervescent personality. Teasing, taunting, laughing, even deep conversations had trickled from his life after his marriage had ended. He’d opted for impersonal relationships, except for his family and Seth, and had even kept apart from them more than he should have. No one was allowed past his firewall. Once burned, twice shy, that was his motto. But he’d taken it too far. He’d become a living ice sculpture.
Zaney had broken through the ice. Life had flowed back, eradicating much of the bitterness he’d harbored after the divorce. With her sunny smile and transparency, what was there to be bitter about anyway? So, he was divorced. Welcome to the majority, pal. It didn’t mean he was a loser or irreparably broken or even a poor judge of character. It was one misstep in his life – yeah, a big one, but he’d landed on his feet. Zaney had made him see that and had made him whole again. With her “let’s be friends” approach, she’d guided him deeper into the relationship pool until he’d realized that he could tread water and wouldn’t drown with her at his side. She’d gained his respect and trust.
“You’re my lucky charm, Zaney Miller,” he said, delving his fingers into her silky hair and turning her face up for his kiss. She closed her eyes as he closed the distance between their mouths. She tasted of peppermint and berries, cool and sweet. Her tongue touched his tentatively at first and then, so like her, teased his with quick licks and fleeting strokes. He held her head between his hands, keeping her where he wanted her as he opened her up more, drinking in her honeyed essence. Her soft moan went from her throat straight to his scrotum. The porch swing tilted and creaked, jarring their mouths apart.
He stood up and lifted her into his arms. Carrying her to the bedroom, he feathered kisses over her eyelids, her nose, her cheeks that the sun had freckled. “These freckles are mine now,” he said.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Especially this one at the corner of your mouth.”
She unbuttoned his shirt and dropped tiny, biting kisses across his collar bone and the side of his neck. Her tongue laved him and her teeth pinched.
“Damn, baby,” he groaned, settling her on the bed and crawling over her lithe body. “You drive me insane, you know that?”
Her eyes were limpid and her lips lax, swollen from his kisses. She clasped the sides of his head and brought his mouth to hers. Arching up into him, she pressed herself against his erection, rubbing back and forth as she impatiently pushed the shirt off his shoulders.
“I want to feel you, look at you,” she said, passion making her voice husky.
He sat up and stripped off his shirt, then unfastened his jeans. She reached inside them and pulled him free. Her fingers were cool on his turgid flesh, warming quickly as she ran her hand up and down, up and down. Her fingertips danced over the wide crown and then she rubbed in the drops that emerged with her thumb. He watched, mesmerized by how small her hand looked around his erection compared to the gigantic feelings she produced with it. She took him into her mouth and he flung ba
ck his head, the sensation of her hot, slick embrace clutching his heart and squeezing his spine.
“Oh, shit, Zaney,” he said between gritted teeth. “That’s so good. Too good.”
“I love the way you taste,” she said, giving him a long lick as her green gaze caressed his face. “And the way you react. You like this, huh?” She licked him again from crown to root, grinning when his hips bucked.
“Yeah, I like it,” he agreed, thinking she was enjoying teasing him a little too much. His turn now.
Grabbing the hem of her shirt, he yanked it up and over her head. Removing her bra was child’s play. He backed off the bed, getting to his feet so that he could remove her shoes and socks, then her jeans and pink panties. When he started to join her again, the sight of her pale body against the dark blue sheets stopped him. She was a vision that made his eyes water and his heart pump with longing. His hands went to her thighs, pulling them further apart so that he could take in her feminine mound, already glistening and ready for him.
Going to his knees, he grasped her by the hips and pulled her toward him until he could rain kisses over her breasts and stomach. She bucked and trembled. He lapped at her, the scent of her arousal making him drunk with desire. The tip of his tongue located the nub of nerves peeking out from its hood. Carefully, slowly, he sucked it between his lips and fluttered his tongue against it.
“Matthew!” His name burst from her like a missile.
He continued, kissing, sucking, tapping as she writhed and gathered the sheet into her fists. He wedged his arms between her thighs to keep her from closing them as her body stiffened, preparing for flight. Keeping her pinned in place, he lifted her higher and higher until she finally soared free, calling out his name as her flesh trembled around his lips and tongue and released more salty nectar for him to feast on.
“God, oh God, oh God,” she chanted as tremors shivered down her body. “What was that? I’ve never come so hard. My heart feels like it almost burst.” She rested a hand between her breasts, drawing his attention to her rosy, puckered nipples.