by Nora Roberts
“Not all that long.” But since she wondered ... “Do you ever wonder what you and I are doing here?”
Mac licked icing off her fingers. “In a Zen way?”
“No, that’s entirely too long a thought. You and me in particular. The public school kids with crappy families and a bumpy childhood.”
“Mine was bumpier.”
“Yes, you win that prize.”
“Yay” For a moment, Mac studied her plastic cup of lemonade. “Speaking of bumps, Linda got back yesterday.”
“You didn’t say anything.”
Mac shrugged. “It’s not such a deal for me anymore. Plus, she’s living in New York with the new husband, and still currently pissed at me. It’s a nice distance.”
“May it continue.”
“Doesn’t matter so much, because I really did win the prize.” She looked over at Carter while he talked to a couple of his students who’d found him in the crowd.
“He is pretty great,” Laurel agreed. “Did we ever have any teachers that cute?”
“Mr. Zimmerman, U.S. History. He was cute.”
“Oh yeah, the Zim Man.Very cute, but gay.”
Green eyes wide, Mac lowered her cup. “He was gay?”
“Definitely. You must’ve been doing one of your stints at the Academy when that hit.”
“I missed a lot of the good stuff bouncing back and forth.Well, gay or straight, he starred in several of my adolescent dreams. Here’s to the Zim Man.”
“To the Zim Man,” Laurel echoed and tapped her can to Mac’s cup.
“Anyway,” Mac continued, “you and me.”
“There’s Emma. Solid family. They’re legion, but rock solid. Certainly privileged. Then Parker. The Browns are Greenwich. Then there’s you. Crazy mother, feckless father. Never knowing if you’re going to be up or down. Then there’s me, with my father and his little problem with the IRS and his mistress. Oops, we’re very nearly broke and nobody’s talking to anybody. We barely kept the house, and my mother’s more pissed about having to let the staff go than the mistress. Strange times.”
Mac nudged Laurel’s arm with hers, in solidarity. “We got through them.”
“We did. And we’re still here. I guess I didn’t think I would be, not when I look back. I was embarrassed and confused and angry, and imagined I’d take off as soon as I turned eighteen.”
“You did, in a way. Going to school in New York, getting your own place. Man, that was fun—for me for sure. Having a pal with an apartment in NewYork.Young, single, and not completely broke in New York City. We had some interesting times.When we weren’t working our asses off.”
Laurel drew her knees up, rested her cheek on them to keep her eyes on Mac. “We always worked, you and me. I don’t mean Emma and Parker sat on their ass, but ...”
“They had a cushion,” Mac put in with a nod. “We didn’t. Except, we had them, so we did.”
“Yeah, you’re right. We did.”
“So I guess I don’t wonder about it too much. We got here, and that’s what counts. And look, you’ve got a very nice prize there, too.”
Laurel lifted her head and studied Del. “I haven’t claimed him yet.”
“I know I’ve got money riding on it, but I’ve got to say, McBane, why the hell haven’t you?”
“You know, I’m asking myself the same question.”
LATER, WHEN THE FIRST SHOWER OF LIGHT FOUNTAINED IN THE sky, Del sat behind her, drawing her back so she could rest against him. It was all color and sound and spectacle, with his arms loose around her.
However she got here, Laurel thought, it was exactly where she wanted to be.
LOADING BACK UP WAS NEARLY AS FRAUGHT AS THE INITIAL CHORE, but once done, Parker piloted them to a local club. At the door she passed Carter the keys. “Del’s buying the first round,” she announced.
“I am?”
“You are, and our designated driver’s money is no good here.” She glanced over as Mal came in behind them. “We’d better grab a couple tables.”
They pushed a couple together, claimed their spots. Once the round was ordered, the women moved off en masse to the ladies room.
“What do you figure they do in there, as a pack?” Mal wondered.
“Talk about us,” Jack said, “and plot strategy.”
“Since we have a minute, I figured I should tell you Parker just made that move earlier because she was mad at me.”
Mal smiled easily at Del. “Okay. Maybe you could piss her off again.”
“Ha. See, I didn’t tell her I’d called you, and she got the wrong idea.”
At ease, Mal kicked back and looped an arm over the back of his chair. “Yeah? What idea’s that?”
“That I was setting the two of you up.”
“Does your sister have trouble getting dates?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Then I wouldn’t worry about it.”
The band started up as their drinks arrived—and the women came right behind them. “Dance! Come on, Jack.” Emma grabbed his hand, tugged.
“There’s beer.”
“Dance, then beer.”
“A plan.” Del got up and claimed Laurel. “It’s been a while for you and me.”
“So, let’s see what you’ve got.”
“Okay, Carter.”
“I’m a terrible dancer,” he reminded Mac.
“You’ll have to dance at the wedding, so it’s time to practice.”
“Oh well.”
Mal gave it a moment, then stood and held out a hand to Parker.
“Really, you don’t have to—”
“You can dance, can’t you?”
“Of course, I can dance, but—”
“Not afraid to dance with me, are you?”
“That’s ridiculous.” Obviously annoyed, she rose. “This isn’t a date, and I’ll apologize for before, but I was—”
“Pissed at Del. I get it. So, we’ll have a drink, we’ll dance. No big deal.”
The music was hot and fast, but he gave her an unexpected little spin, then twirled her in close. And began to move.
He had the beat, and still it took her a minute to match his steps and rhythm. She had to admit, he’d thrown her off guard again.
“Somebody’s had lessons,” she said.
“No, somebody just figured out dancing’s a solid way to pick up women.” He spun her out again, then in so their bodies meshed. “And jobs. Fight scenes are choreography. I did a lot of stunt work in fight scenes.”
“Jobs and women.”
“Yeah. Life’s better with both.”
Nearby, Laurel snapped her fingers in front of Del’s face. “Stop. You’re staring at them.”
“I was just ... checking.”
“Look at me.” She forked her fingers in front of her eyes, then pointed them at his.
He took her by the hips to tug her closer. “You were too far away.”
“Okay.” She linked her hands behind his neck, and used her hips. “How’s that?”
“A lot better.” His mouth found hers. “Better yet, even though it’s killing me.”
“You can take it.” She ran her teeth over his bottom lip. “Or me.”
“Definitely killing me. Come on, let’s sit down.”
She thought about the last time she and her three friends had gone to a club. Just the four of them, she recalled, to a trendy place in the city. All of them unattached, and just out for an evening of dancing. A lot could change in a few months, she mused.
Now there were eight of them squeezed together, yelling at one another over the music. Every now and again, Del would brush a hand over her hair, or down her back. He couldn’t know, couldn’t possibly know what that absent touch did inside her body.
It made her want to curl up and purr—or drag him out to the van where they could be alone. It was pitiful how much she yearned, how much he could do to her with so little.
If he had any idea how desperately in love with him she
was ... He’d be kind, she thought. And that would destroy her.
Better, much better they take it slow and easy, just as he’d said at the beginning. Maybe some of these feelings would settle. Maybe they’d be able to meet somewhere in the middle so she wouldn’t feel so outweighed by her own heart.
He glanced her way and smiled, and that heart stuttered.
So much could change, she thought. And yet, if she counted the longing, so much could stay the same.
Just after midnight they piled back into the van with Carter behind the wheel. She listened to the muted voices around her, the winding down of the day. But there was still a moon, still stars, still a long night ahead.
“I’ve got a client dinner tomorrow,” Del told her, “then poker night. Why don’t you think about what you’d like to do, where you’d like to go when we go out next time.”
“Sure.”
“You could miss me in the meantime.”
“I might.”
As Carter turned toward his house, Del tipped her face up for a kiss. “Why don’t you make a point of it?”
He shifted to get out, nudged Parker on the shoulder. “You’re not still mad.”
She gave him a long look. “I’m only not still mad because we won the ball game and he’s a good dancer. Try that again, and I’ll make you hurt.”
“You had fun.” He kissed her cheek. “Thanks for the lift. See you all later. You men, sooner. Poker night.”
He stepped out, gave a wave, then headed up the walk to his door.
Laurel argued with herself for nearly a quarter mile.
“Stop! Stop! Pull over.”
“Oh, honey, are you sick?” Emma straightened in her seat, swiveled around.
“No, no, just ...This is stupid. It’s all just stupid.” She wrenched the door open. “Screw the bet. I’m going to Del’s. Go home.”
She ignored the cheers and slammed the door.
“Wait.” Carter stuck his head out. “I’ll drive you back. Just—”
“No.Thanks. Go.”
And turning, she began to run.
CHAPTER TEN
AS HE TOSSED HIS KEYS IN THE LITTLE BOWL ON HIS DRESSER, plugged his cell phone into its charger, Del considered a quick swim before he turned in. Something physical, he thought, to take the edge off the sexual frustration and help him sleep. He pulled off his shirt, his shoes, and headed down to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water.
It was the right thing to do, this waiting. Laurel held too important a place in his life—played too intricate a part—to rush this change between them.
She wasn’t just an interesting, attractive woman. She was Laurel. Tough and funny, smart and resilient Laurel McBane. She had so many of the qualities he admired in a woman—and all in one sexy package.
All these years, he mused, he’d considered that package off-limits. Now that she—he—they, he decided, had torn down the restrictions, he wanted her more than he’d anticipated.
It added another reason for the wait.
Impulse was great; he was a fan of acting on impulse. But not when it came to someone who mattered as much as she did, and on so many complicated levels. Slow and sensible, he reminded himself. It was working, wasn’t it? In a short amount of time they’d learned things about each other neither of them had explored in all the years they’d known each other.
They’d spent the holiday together as they’d spent countless others—but in a whole new light, with an entirely different approach. That was the sort of thing they needed to do more of before they took the next step.
He was fine with it; he was good with it.
He wondered if the month would ever end.
Swim, he ordered himself an instant before the banging on his front door, the insistent buzzing of his bell, had him rushing back through the house.
Sharp claws of panic ripped viciously through his gut at his first glimpse of Laurel, winded, wide-eyed, and flushed.
“Was there an accident? Parker.” He grabbed her, checking for injuries even as his mind jumped forward. “Call nine-one-one, and I’ll go—”
“No. No accident. It’s fine. Everyone’s fine.” She waved him back, sucking in a breath. “Here’s the thing. You can’t count today, and it’s actually tomorrow, so you can’t count that. Or the first day, because it’s the first.”
“What? Are you okay? Where’s everyone? What happened?”
“Nothing happened; I came back.” She held up one hand as if to calm him and shoved the other through her hair. “It’s just all about the math, really, and today being tomorrow because it’s after midnight. So there’s that. Plus you don’t count weekends. Who counts weekends? Nobody does. Five business days, that’s what they all say.”
Panic throttled down to bafflement. “About what?”
“Everything. Pay attention.” She jabbed a finger at him. “Keep up.”
“Well, I would—could—if I knew what the hell you’re talking about.”
“Listen, okay?” She started to slip out of the sandals she’d changed into after the ball game, but stopped. “This is how it works. You take off the first day and today, and the weekends. That’s like ten days, which is actually two weeks by most definitions.” As the words tumbled out, she gestured, one hand, then the other. “Plus, I don’t think thirty days works when you really meant a month. That’s four weeks. Twenty-eight days—seven times four. It’s just basic math. Then if you take off the two weeks that don’t count due to weekends and whatever, we’re actually behind.”
“Behind wh—Oh.” Understanding brought relief, amusement, and gratitude in one big rush. “Uh-uh. I’m not sure I got all of that. Can you run it by me again?”
“No. I figured it out. Take my word. So I came back because we’re falling behind.”
“Can’t have that, can we?”
“That’s the math. Now we have the multiple choice portion. A, you take me home; B, I call a cab; or C, I stay.”
“Let me think it over. Done.” He grabbed her again, took her mouth with his.
“Correct answer.” She boosted herself up to wrap her legs around his waist. “Definitely the correct answer. You can thank me later for figuring it out.” Her mouth found his again in a hot, urgent kiss. “But now, I’m going crazy. You’d better be going crazy, too.”
“I was thinking about you, and wanting you.” He started up the stairs. “It’s all I could think about. Thank God for the five-business-days rule.”
“It’s industry standard,” she managed as her heart began to pound in her ears again. “We made it too big a deal. The sex. I can’t think straight when I’m obsessing, and I can’t think about anything else but wanting to be with you. I keep thinking about how it’ll be, but I don’t want to think. I just want it to be. I’m talking too much. See? Crazy.”
“Then let’s be.”
When he lowered to the bed with her, her legs tightened around his waist, her hands skimmed down his back and up again. She felt the first twinges of desperation even as their mouths met again. Heat washed over her, spilled into her—so fast, so intense she lost her breath. Too long the waiting, she thought, and the wondering and the wanting.
She gripped his hips, arching up as his teeth scraped lightly down her throat and awoke dozens of nerve endings. She tried to get her hands on the button of his jeans, but he took her wrists, brushed his thumbs over her drumming pulse.
“Too fast.”
“It’s already been forever.”
“What’s a little longer?” He eased back and in the swatch of moonlight began to unbutton her shirt. “I’ve spent a lot of time not looking at you in a certain way. I want to enjoy the looking. And the touching. The tasting.” As he spread her shirt open, his fingers trailed down her skin.
Touching her was like finally understanding a puzzle, seeing for the first time the beauty and complexity of it. The angles of her face, the curves of her body, his now to explore.
When she reached for him, he drew her up so
he could slip the shirt aside, taste the smooth skin of strong shoulders. He flicked open the catch of her bra, heard her little gasp before he smoothed the straps off her shoulders. More silky skin pressed to his as she tipped her head back to invite his kiss.
Slow, smoldering, deep with tongues sliding as he lowered her down again to look into those bold blue eyes, as he feathered his fingers over her breasts. She quivered, and her reaction coiled need, hot and hard, in his belly.
“Let me,” he murmured, and closed his mouth over her breast.
Pleasure seared over her skin and flashed through her body as she gave herself over to his hands, his mouth. He wanted; he took, but inch by scorching, torturous inch, exploiting her vulnerabilities, her longings, as if he knew every secret she held.
“I’ve wanted this. Wanted you,” she murmured.
“Now we have this. Have each other.”
He slid her jeans down her legs, his mouth gliding over her belly, her thigh. Time, an eternity of time spun out, and stopped.
Just now, she thought. This moment.
It seemed everything in her opened for him, and everything in her was warm and willing. Slow, he ordered himself, though his need had begun to buck at the end of its tether, and he used his hands to guide her over the peak.
He watched pleasure turn her eyes to blue crystals, tasted her moan as he crushed his mouth to hers.
Finally, when their eyes met again, he slipped out of his clothes and into her, held himself there while they both trembled.
She said his name, a single, catchy sigh, then rose in welcome. No more wondering, but only wonder as they moved together. At last, she thought, at last. And broke apart.
She lay under him, weak and wildly happy, with her lips curved against his shoulder because his heart pounded against hers.
She’d let him lead this time, she thought, but he’d ended up as wrecked and satisfied as she had. She stroked a hand down his back, and over his very fine ass, because she could.
“My idea.”
He managed a weak laugh. “A good one.” He shifted to draw her against his side. “Yeah, this is good.”
“If we use my math and formula, we didn’t actually lose the bet.”