“You taste so good,” he murmured into her mouth. “Feel so good.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down. A low laugh rumbled from his throat and he stretched them out, chest to chest, belly to belly, thighs to thighs. He stared at her, his blue eyes dark and stormy with pleased desire. His torso lifted and fell with an uneven rhythm, but his familiar easy grin curved his mouth.
She wriggled closer. “I like this.”
“Me too.” He traced her cheek with the back of his hand. “Being with you…it makes a lot of things better.”
She ran her finger along the slight cleft in his chin, gently brushed the bandage on the underside. “What happened? Cut yourself shaving?”
“Hardly.” He grimaced, but slid a hand down to rest just above her butt, snuggling her into him. “Busted my chin on a suspect’s head while I was trying to subdue him.”
“I’m sorry.” She caressed the spot with a light finger.
“It’s nothing.” A hint of wickedness danced in his eyes. “But you can kiss me and make it better if you want to.”
“You’d like that, huh?” On a shivery laugh, she eased in to take his mouth. With a smooth motion, he pressed her back and leaned over her, thumb caressing her ribcage while his tongue made teasing forays between her lips. Long fingers molded the side of her breast, but he didn’t try to take the caress further. Something about the kissing, the soft sighs and touches, left her giddy in moments.
He ran a finger along her side, down the curve of her breast, dipping in at her waist, resting at her hip. “You’re so soft.”
She made a moue. “Too soft.”
“Uh-uh. I like it.” His hold tightened on her for a split second before he twisted his wrist to look at his watch. “I have to go.”
She poked at his side, amazed at how hard he was, everywhere. “Afraid you’ll miss curfew and get grounded?”
Pushing her back, he plundered her mouth in sweet retaliation for several long moments. “Working a split shift that starts at three a.m. I need to get my ass in the bed.”
Offering him her bed lay on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed the words. This was enough for now, these sweet passion-filled moments in his arms, with nothing but kisses and hot embraces.
He buried his face against her neck. “You need to get some rest too. One night off a week isn’t enough.”
She rested her cheek atop his hair. “What time do you get off tomorrow?”
“Seven.” The word was muffled against her skin. His breathing puffed over her in a warm, tickling burst.
“Come by the bar. I’ll make you a burger.”
“Deal.” They disentangled and she walked him to the door. There, he leaned down to mold his mouth over hers. “Good night.”
“Sweet dreams.”
One corner of his lips quirked. “I’ll be dreaming of an angel. Damn straight they’ll be sweet.”
Long after he was gone, she leaned against the door, eyes closed, hugging close memories of the touch and taste of him, of the way he made her feel, and worrying, just a little, that she was already in way too deep.
Chapter Six
The rich aroma of roasting turkey saturated the hot air. Angel leaned against the sink, fanning herself and watching Mama mix up her famous cornbread dressing. The heat and aromas, usually mouthwatering, combined to leave her almost nauseous.
“Mama, there has to be something I can do.” Maybe having a task to keep her hands busy would make her feel better…and steer her obsessive mind away from missing Troy Lee. Lord, he’d only been gone a day.
“I’ve got it, hon.” Mama turned the dressing with nimble fingers one more time. “You can see if your daddy needs some tea, though.”
Considering he hadn’t rattled his glass, it was unlikely, but Angel trailed through to the den anyway. Her mama’s waiting on Daddy hand and foot blew her mind. Let Troy Lee Farr rattle a tea glass at her, just once—
Oh, my Lord, she was full-gone on him, envisioning the two of them living together. Shaking her head, she went down the two steps to the sunken den, dark with wood paneling and blessedly cool after the kitchen. On the old console television, massive balloons and marching bands filled a New York street. Daddy was stretched out in the recliner, eyes closed.
Angel leaned down and whispered a kiss over the top of his bald head. He startled a bit and opened his eyes. “Hey, baby.”
With a smile, Angel perched on the arm of his chair. “Hey, Daddy. Mama sent me to see if you needed more tea.”
He lifted the tall tumbler imprinted with a whitetail buck and examined the contents. “I’m fine.”
Filled with a burst of affection, she wrapped an arm about his shoulders and hugged him. “Hope and Darryl and the girls should be here soon. Then you and Darryl can watch football all afternoon and be sorry.”
He made a sound of assent in his throat, his gaze sliding sideways to the third recliner. He patted her knee in awkward comfort. “Not the same without Jimmy here, is it, sweetheart?”
For a split second, the question pricked, then she laughed. “Daddy, I haven’t even thought about Jim in days.”
The absolute truth of that statement sank in. For the past two weeks, all she’d been focused on was Troy Lee. Crap. For a girl who’d supposedly been in it only for fun and a good time…she’d failed miserably.
“It’s all right, baby.” Her daddy cleared his throat. “I understand.”
“Daddy, seriously.” She hugged herself, feeling freer than she had in, oh, forever. “I could care less that Jim isn’t here. He made his choice, I’m glad he’s happy. I’m over it and I have moved on.”
“Angel!” Mama’s harried voice trailed in from the kitchen. “Your cell phone is ringing.”
Excitement spiked in her. She could think of only one person, really, who would be calling her cell on Thanksgiving Day. “Coming.”
She hurried to snag her purse from the kitchen counter and paw through it for her cell. Yes, it was definitely Troy Lee, as Josh Turner’s “Your Man”, the ring tone she’d programmed for his number, continued to peal. Darn it, she had to get a smaller purse.
Triumphant at last, she pulled the metallic turquoise rectangle from underneath her change purse. She flipped it open and lifted it to her ear with a breathless “Hello.”
“Hey.” His dark-as-molasses voice slid over her ears. “I missed you.”
“You too.” She cast a look at her mother’s back and slipped out the door to the deck. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Are you having a good day?” Even over the less-than-clear connection, she could hear the wistfulness coloring his tone.
It would be better if you were here. “Yes. Mama’s just now making the dressing, but we always eat a late Thanksgiving dinner. How about you? Prepared to eat too much turkey?”
“Turkey? Um, Christine’s not much for the traditional meal.”
“Really?” She couldn’t imagine. Her mother’s turkey, dressing, sweet-potato casserole and pecan pie were the highlight of every November. “What are y’all having?”
“It smells like…moo goo gai pan. And General Tso’s chicken. I think.”
“You’re eating Chinese takeout for Thanksgiving dinner?” Even she heard the shocked horror in her words. “Oh, Troy Lee.”
He laughed, the deep sound warming her all the way to her pink-tipped toes. “It’s okay, babe. It’s kind of a tradition and I’m with family. That’s what counts, right?”
“Yes.” She leaned against the wall by the door and fiddled with the ends of her hair. “So when are you coming”—she swallowed the word home—“back?”
“Probably sometime tomorrow. I have to be on duty Saturday at seven a.m.” A female voice rose in the background. “That’s Ellis. I’m being summoned, so I’ll let you go. Happy Thanksgiving, baby. See you soon.”
“Bye.” She whispered the word even as the connection died. Melancholy shivered through her. Doggone it, she was in too deep with him.<
br />
Even worse, she didn’t care.
“Ellis, I said I was coming.” At his younger sister’s yell, Troy Lee pushed up from the couch. For the first time ever, he wanted to be somewhere other than home for Thanksgiving.
He ambled up the stairs to the house’s second level, where the kitchen and dining room shared space with Christine’s studio. Weak sunlight streamed in through tall windows, highlighting the multicolor pottery dishes waiting on the rough-hewn table loaded with white cardboard takeout boxes.
“What do you want to drink?” Ellis poked him in the ribs with a set of chopsticks as she passed by to the kitchen.
“Anything’s fine.” He peered into a container. Yep, General Tso’s chicken. He’d been right about the moo goo gai pan, and more boxes held shrimp lo mein and egg rolls. His mouth watered and he smiled, remembering Angel’s shock at the idea of what he considered the ultimate Thanksgiving meal. Thinking of her sent a dart of mingled warmth and loneliness through him.
Christine folded her voluminous skirt around her legs and handed him a pair of chopsticks. “Phoning someone special?”
He paused in the act of snitching an egg roll and darted a look at her serene, knowing expression. No point in trying to prevaricate. She knew him too well. He laid the steaming wrap on his plate. “Angel.”
“Oh.” A pleased smile flirted over Christine’s mouth and she nodded. “Angel.”
What was that all about? Shrugging, he reached for the box holding the General Tso’s chicken.
“Mom.” His other sister Montgomery rested her elbow on the table and leaned toward her mother, a teasing glint in eyes the same shade of blue as his own. “She’s older than he is.”
He gave her a look. One day he’d learn not to confide in her. She couldn’t keep a secret if her life depended on it.
“Really?” Christine ladled shrimp lo mein onto her plate. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Ellis set a glass of iced water before him and sank onto the chair next to his. “Does that mean I can go out with David Norton?”
Christine pinned her with a look. “No.”
With a pout, Ellis subsided. Troy Lee swallowed a chuckle. Although she was only sixteen, she was already enrolled at Georgia Tech, a freshman just a year behind Montgomery, who was a sophomore at nearly twenty, attending the Atlanta campus of the Savannah School of Art and Design. Since that made Ellis think she was all grown-up, having to toe Christine’s relatively strict line grated.
“So tell us about your Angel.” Christine clicked her chopsticks at him.
His Angel. Damn, he liked the sound of that. “She’s…great. Smart, funny, owns her own business. Makes the best burgers you’ve ever tasted.”
Not to mention absolutely beautiful and a fantastic kisser. More than that, they clicked in a way he’d not experienced before. He could laugh with her, talk with her. Hell, he was beginning to think this was the woman he could live his life with.
And what had he done? Convinced her it was all about fun and games.
He was a damn idiot. But at least he was an idiot who knew where he wanted to be.
“So.” He closed the sticks around a piece of spicy chicken. “Would it bother you if I didn’t spend the night and went home after dinner?”
He didn’t miss the excited look his sisters exchanged, a verbal giggle of sorts. Christine smiled her serene smile, pleasure lighting her eyes. “Not at all.”
Something was off. Feeling like he was trapped in one of those “how many things can you find wrong” cartoons from the Sunday paper, Mark followed Tori out to her mother’s patio and settled next to her on the glider. The sense of things being out of whack niggled at him, the same way it did when somebody moved the stuff around on his desk when he was out of the office.
At first, he’d thought maybe it was being here with Tori for the first time in the official “boyfriend” role and having her other brothers Del and Chuck size him up the way Tick had been doing for weeks, but neither Chuck’s open yet easy assessment nor Del’s quiet observation got under his skin. Maybe it was being part of a family celebration when he’d been alone for so long.
Mentally shrugging off the unease, he relaxed and let himself enjoy simply being in Tori’s presence. Full and replete, most of the adults had wandered out to take advantage of the warm afternoon. On the lawn, Chuck tossed a football with his sons. Del’s teenaged daughters had gone down to the dock with iPods and cell phones. Inside, Lenora Calvert enjoyed some quiet grandmother time with Chuck’s daughter while her daughter-in-law rocked the youngest to sleep. That left Mark and Tori on the patio with Del and his wife Barbara and Tick and Caitlin. Home from Georgia Tech for the first time this semester, Blake, Del and Barb’s son, lounged on the steps leading to the screened porch and shared anecdotes about his freshmen induction into college life.
“Oh man, I have to tell you this one. You won’t believe it.” Blake tossed his long bangs away from Calvert-brown eyes and rested his elbows on the top step. “I’m enrolled in Calculus II, right? And I’m thinking, hey, I survived Ms. Francesco’s AP class, I should be okay.”
“Why do I hear a ‘but’ coming here?” Del leaned back on the chaise and draped his arm around Barbara’s shoulders. “And maybe an ‘F’ on your grade report?”
“I’m holding on to a B.” Blake’s teeth flashed in a grin. “Barely. Anyway, this class is hard. So I join a study group with some other kids because midterms are coming up and I know I have to pass that exam. A couple of weeks ago, we’re over at Ellis’s house, studying—”
“Ellis.” With a knowing expression, Barbara poked Del’s ribs.
Blake rolled his eyes. “Mama, she’s sixteen and she has a crush on our TA.”
“Wait.” Tori lifted her hands with a laugh. “Sixteen and a freshman at Georgia Tech?”
“Yeah. Wild, huh? She’s wicked smart.” Blake leaned forward, hands between his knees. “But you have to let me tell the story.”
“Go ahead.” Tori subsided, wiggling her shoulder under Mark’s arm. Warmth flashed out from the contact.
“So it’s late and we’re stuck on derivatives and I’m so lost it’s pitiful. I’m not the only one, either. So Ellis says, ‘I’m calling my brother. He can explain it.’ So she calls him, right? Puts him on speaker on her cell. Sure enough, he can explain it where I can understand it, and everybody is taking notes as fast as they can. The whole time I’m writing, I’m thinking, I know that voice. I’ve heard this guy’s voice before. Then the police radio starts squawking in the background and I finally realize who it is.” Blake paused for effect. “Troy Lee.”
Tick chuckled. “What?”
“Swear to God, Ellis’s brother is Troy Lee Farr.” Blake held up both palms. “The next hour, he’s explaining derivatives and integrals over the phone and he’d put us on hold when he stopped to write a ticket or whatever, although it must have been a slow night.”
Tick rested his elbow on the chair arm and his mouth against his hand. “Troy Lee Farr tutored you in Calculus.”
“I’m telling you, the guy is a math genius. We all made A’s on the midterm.”
“So Ellis’s last name didn’t clue you in before she called?” Tori asked, echoing Mark’s thoughts.
Blake shook his head. “Ellis uses her mom’s maiden name instead of Farr. Doesn’t want people in the math department judging her or treating her special because of her dad.”
Barbara wound her fingers through Del’s. “What do you mean, because of her dad?”
“He was some bigwig math professor up there. They named an entire wing of the math building after him when he died. He was mugged leaving school late one night. The guy hit him in the head and he never came out of the coma.” Blake shrugged. “According to Ellis, that’s why Troy Lee became a cop. He’d been a physics major, with a minor in music, but after that he switched to criminal justice.”
Tick’s eyebrows lifted, a wry expression twisting his face. Wish he’d stayed in ph
ysics. Mark sensed the thought flashing through Tick’s head as surely as if he murmured it aloud.
“Anyway,” Blake went on, “I considered asking him to tutor me when I take physics next semester, but then I thought about how much he hates Uncle Tick and decided maybe not.”
“Hates me?” Tick dropped his hand on a pfft. “Right.”
Tori snorted. “If you treated me the way you do him, I’d hate you.”
“Thanks a lot.” Wry sarcasm laced Tick’s voice. He turned irritated eyes in Mark’s directions. “I suppose this is where you’re going to chime in? Tell me how much the kid and I have in common?”
Mark opened his mouth, but Caitlin’s quiet laugh forestalled him.
“He is a lot like you.” She laid her palm on Tick’s thigh in an easy contact Mark had witnessed dozens of times. The disconnect Mark had been trying to pinpoint all day coalesced in his mind. It was the two of them—
“He is not.” A visible wave of tension moved through Tick’s body, like watching the beginning of tsunami after an underwater quake. He shifted, Caitlin’s hand falling away from his leg.
“You’re right.” Del’s relaxed tone broke the silent vibrating strain. “You’re not that good at math.”
Tick’s tight grin looked more like a grimace. “Just because you can do amortization schedules in your head…”
Del laughed and the conversation turned in another direction, the awkward moment seemingly forgotten. Mark stretched his arm along the back of the glider and watched. That’s what had been niggling at him all day—the differences in their interactions, Caitlin’s unusual reserve, the way Tick kept a certain physical distance between them.
Tori nudged him in the ribs. “I’m going to see if Mama needs help in the kitchen. Come with me.”
No doubt existed in his mind that Lenora Calvert’s kitchen was as spotless as always, but he followed regardless. In the sparkling clean room, Tori turned into his embrace and rested her nose against his shoulder.
“I was afraid of that,” she muttered, muffled by his shirt.
He was such a sucker for her. All he wanted to do was find a way to take the sadness and worry out of her voice. With a sigh, he wrapped his arms around her waist. “Afraid of what, honey?”
Fall Into Me: Hearts of the South Page 8