He glanced at the clock behind the bar. “About a half hour and I’m all yours.”
They sat down, and he signaled the bartender for a drink. “I keep thinking this is a dream.”
“For me, too.”
She tore slices in the napkin she twirled between her fingers. It was either that or throw her arms around his neck and hug him close enough to feel his heartbeat against hers. “So you’re still playing music.”
“And you’re still beautiful.”
“Sweet talker.”
His smile reached the whole way to his beautiful eyes. “Sounds like you’ve been busy in the years since we last saw each other.”
The way he said it, amused and without judgment, put her at ease. “You have no idea.”
“Tell me.”
“It’s not all that interesting.”
He took one of her hands in his. “I want to know everything about you. Every minute and every dream. It all matters to me.”
“Do I get to hear the same from you?” She remembered how closed he’d been, how secretive.
He lifted their joint hands and kissed her knuckles. “Ask anything.”
“That’s a pretty open invitation.”
“Whatever you want is yours.”
All the past tension was gone. He didn’t panic or tense when she turned her attention on him. He opened the door and dared her to walk through it.
She did. At the end of thirty minutes she knew all about his photography interests and scuba trips. He didn’t talk about a girlfriend, and she didn’t ask. Hearing it on his lips would bury her in grief all over again.
The strange news was his address. He lived only four blocks away from her. All that time and so close.
A man is coming for you.
The longer they talked, the more she wanted the press of his body against hers, the taste of his lips against hers. It was as if they were transported back to the good times. Like they’d never been apart or with other people.
Every part of her silently screamed with joy. Seeing him was a gift she never expected to receive. Being this close, sliding her thigh against his as they sat there, reinforced her view that sometimes people did get lucky.
She wanted more . . . and this time the more in question was him.
The room filled around them, and the sound guy motioned for Paul to come up to the stage. She didn’t want the time to end. No way was she letting him slip out of sight and out of her life again.
“Can you come over on Friday?” She rushed out the question before he walked away. Any day worked for her, but choosing a weekend day worked as a test. She wanted to know if he was available.
“I can do Saturday.”
He returned the volley with ease. Didn’t give any extra information about his Friday plans to put her mind at rest. She would have to stumble through the week, waiting to see him. But none of that made any difference. She felt lighter, her nerve endings singing and shouting with excitement.
When he stood up to get ready for his set, she almost grabbed his hand again. Letting him go proved as hard this time as it had in the past, and she knew this separation was only temporary.
“You going to stick around and listen?” He asked the question before he walked away.
She motioned to the bar. “Heather and her boyfriend would be upset if I dragged them the whole way here only to take them away without hearing any music.”
Paul waved to Heather. “Man, I didn’t even see them.”
He’d been too busy looking at her. Jennifer knew the truth and reveled in it.
“I think we’ll refrain from letting Heather know that,” Jennifer said.
“She’d kick my butt, and I’d deserve it.” Paul tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and leaned so close that his warm, fragrant breath tickled her skin. “Enjoy the show.”
She already had.
Twenty-Seven
Only forward.
—Jennifer Hopkins
THE DAYS TICKED BY FOR WHAT FELT LIKE WEEKS. Paul thought he would go crazy waiting for Saturday to arrive. He immediately regretted testing Jennifer.
Delaying seeing her for an extra day seemed like a good idea at the time. He didn’t want to seem pathetic, but now he wished he’d been honest about not having another date. He didn’t want anyone else. Sure didn’t want another day to pass without touching her.
Jennifer opened the door before he could knock. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
She nodded. “I’m thinking that’s enough talk for now.”
Heat flashed through him. “Where’s Heather?”
“Not here.”
“Any chance I can come inside?”
Jennifer laughed in a sound filled with warmth. “I think we’ve played this scene before.”
“I am dying to hold you, kiss you, and I’m happy to do it right here in the hallway, but your neighbors might get testy.”
She threw her arms around his neck and sealed his mouth with hers. It was one of those mind-blowing kisses that whipped through him, wiping out every bad memory and replacing them with a sizzling need.
He groaned against her lips. “I missed you so much.”
He didn’t care who saw them or heard them. How much ego he had to set aside to get this time right. The entire building could come out and watch, and she could post his feelings for her on the broadcast. Nothing was going to drive him away. Not this time.
“Come inside.” She took his hand and led him through the sunny front room.
He expected her to drag him to the couch. They passed the beige sectional, then the table. They were at the base of the stairs and up before he could blink.
With every step, his body’s alert status rose. Seeing her bedroom door and the mattress beyond stole his speech. He’d expected talk and a getting-to-know-you-again phase. She was offering so much more.
The fast forward proved what he thought at the club—they didn’t need to go backward. They could spin right into the future.
He ran his fingers through her hair and felt her tremble. He smelled flowers on her skin and gave in to the need to trail his fingers down her back. She shifted her head to the side to give him better access.
It was all the incentive he needed.
He pressed her back against the bedroom door and trapped her there between his arms. “You sure you’re ready?”
She lifted her lower body against his. “I’ve been waiting all week.”
“I thought about sleeping on your doorstep until you let me in.” He wrapped her hair around his finger, letting the silky strands fall over his skin.
“I would have dragged you through a window to get you to the bedroom.” She whispered the sexy threat against his lips before dragging him into another kiss. “Like I basically just did.”
He nuzzled her cheek then her nose. “I want to go slow and relearn all the things you enjoy.”
She reached for the buttons on his shirt. “Next time.”
They didn’t even try to talk until almost two hours later. In bed, naked and lounging on the rumpled sheets, she celebrated the special moment. For all the times they got this wrong, this time it felt right. All the heartbreak was behind them.
The usual panic didn’t overtake her. She wasn’t worried about growing up and growing apart. Thoughts of losing herself and her dreams didn’t take hold. She’d lived enough to know he was her every fantasy.
All she wanted to do was hold on and not let go.
She propped her shoulders on the only remaining pillow on the bed. Paul held his body over hers as he brushed his fingertips against the bare skin above her breasts.
“Please tell me you’re not seeing anyone.” She knew he wasn’t, that he wouldn’t do that to her, but she needed to hear the words. The implicit promise would be enough.
He pretended to mull over the question until she pinched the skin on his elbow. “I have a rotating harem, but I gave them the night off.”
“You’re such a good guy.
”
“I prefer the term master.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “I bet you do.”
His lips found her exposed neck and began nibbling. “No.”
“What?”
“There’s only you.” He pressed his index finger in the sweet spot between her eyebrows.
All the tension in her body fled. “And only you for me.”
Light kisses fell in a line along her collarbone. Soft hair tickled her neck as warm breath skimmed across her skin.
She turned her head to give him better access. “I can’t believe you e-mailed me.”
“I saw you on television and . . .” He shook his head. “Never mind. Doesn’t matter.”
It did when he said it like that. “What?”
“Well, I waited for a long time before getting in touch. I worried you were with someone else or wanted to forget our time together.”
“I’ve never forgotten you. I’ve lived on those memories for years.”
His forehead pressed against her shoulder. “I love you.” The soft whisper skipped over her skin.
Everything fell together. Every jagged edge smoothed. “Paul.”
He shook his head but didn’t look at her. “It’s too soon, I know. Neil told me to play it cool. I planned to hold it, but seeing you here, in my arms . . .”
She pressed her hands against his cheeks and forced him to look at her. “I love you, too. Always have.”
It felt good to finally say the words. Freeing and so permanent. She’d never uttered them to anyone else because they never fit. They were reserved for him and him alone.
Still, the delay seemed interminable. “Why did we wait so long?” She was the one to ask, knowing full well that any blame belonged to her. He’d tried to hold them together, but she pushed them apart. All of her reasons were valid. They weren’t ready, and pushing forward prematurely probably would have killed them for the long-term.
It all made sense to her, but that didn’t mean he saw it the same way. If his bitterness still lingered, it would surround them until it crushed them.
“Paul?”
“It was a long road. Sometimes pretty awful, but we’re here.”
His eyes were clear and his voice steady.
She knew he was telling the truth. On this one point, they were in sync. “And now?”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Me either.” She stretched, hoping to tempt him into a second round by sliding out of the sheet and showing a bit more skin.
“Guess that means you like what you saw on the Naked News video.”
She expected him to joke. Instead, his smile faded.
“For the record, I like Victoria. She’s hot and fun and very sexy.” He traced her mouth. “But I love Jennifer. Only Jennifer. The rest can come or go, you can make money or we can struggle to pay the bills, being with Jennifer is my only focus.”
Light poured through her, illuminating all the previously dark places. He got it. “So many people can’t see the difference.”
“Then they don’t know you.”
“You do.”
His mouth kicked up at one side. “And I like it all.”
She lifted her hands over her head and flashed him her wildest come-get-me grin. “Show me.”
“Thought you might actually like to see the house,” Jennifer said.
He was fine limiting his access to the bedroom for now, but the next morning he followed Heather and Jennifer through the two-story apartment, listening as they described the rooms. He didn’t see any of it. Jennifer held his hand, and the feel of her skin blocked out all of his powers of concentration.
“You look ready to bolt,” Heather joked.
“I’m fine.” He kissed Jennifer. “Great, actually.”
Jennifer smiled . . . then it faded. “Where’s Luna?”
He knew she was talking English but the words didn’t make much sense. “What is a Luna?”
“My dog.”
The idea made sense. She loved animals. “I didn’t see her last night.”
And he remembered everything—the scent of her skin and curve of her spine. Not one memory of a fuzzy dog.
All of the color leeched out of Heather’s face. “Oh no.”
“What?” he asked.
Jennifer stared at her sister. “She wouldn’t.”
“Anyone want to fill me in?”
The sisters took off for the stairs, screaming as they ran. He followed because the curiosity was killing him. They ran across the hardwood floor, sliding in their socks as they hit the dining room doorway.
“Luna!”
Paul took in the whole scene. Bits of food scattered on the floor. Broken dishes. A dog happily munching on what looked like the remainder of a piece of turkey.
Jennifer shook her finger in front of the dog’s face. “Bad girl.”
Paul ruined the scolding by laughing. The scene was just so perfect. This forty pound ball of fluff had helped herself to a full brunch buffet. He shook until he doubled over.
“This isn’t funny. She ate all the cheese.” Jennifer crouched down to peek under the table. “I think she even ate the lettuce. Is that possible?”
Her disgruntled confusion only made him laugh harder.
“You won’t think it’s funny when she has to go out in the middle of the night.”
That one sobered him. “I’ll take her.”
Jennifer eyed him up. “You plan to be here?”
He saw the words for the challenge they were. She wanted a commitment, an understanding of some sort. With other women, he balked. With her, he couldn’t say yes fast enough. “I will be here for as long as you let me.”
She stepped over a wayward strip of bacon and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I like that.”
He wasn’t going to rush and start thinking about moving in together. He’d done that once and watched her slip away.
“You invite me and I’ll be here.” Catching her in his arms felt right. They fit together, his hard body sliding so perfectly against her softness.
“The invitation is forever.”
But he wasn’t going to say no when she offered up his dream and asked him to take it. “Good.”
Twenty-Eight
There’s always a way.
—Jennifer Hopkins
“BOSTON.”
They stood on the back patio of her house the next night, watching the people pass by as the sun faded on the horizon. He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her back against him. “That’s his name.”
“Is he a friendly dog or a sloppy dog?”
He kissed her shoulder. “What do you mean by sloppy?”
“You know.”
“Actually, no. But you’ll love him. He’s a Rottweiler.”
She smiled against his cheek. “Of course he is.”
“I remember that day.” The sunshine. The blinding clarity that he would never feel that way with another person.
“I’ve held onto it in my mind through all the tough times.”
He adjusted his hold to pull her even closer. “You want to tell me about those?”
She nodded. “Soon.”
“I can wait for as long as you need.”
She pressed her elbow into his stomach. “You’re just changing the subject. About this dog . . .”
“He’s good. Well, there was this one time.”
“Uh-oh.”
“He attacked another dog.”
She turned around in his arms to face him. “And this dog sleeps with you? You think he’s going to sleep on our bed?”
He loved it when she said our bed. “He’s harmless.”
“I bet the other dog didn’t think so.”
“He was this husky. Mean.”
“Like that one.” She waved to the man walking his dog by the patio wall.
Paul felt his eyes bulge. “Jennifer.”
She kept waving, drawing as much attention to them as possible. “Hi Mango!”
>
“That’s him.”
Her head snapped back around. “What?”
He tried to drag her back against the wall and out of the line of sight. “That’s him. That’s him.”
“What are you doing?”
“Boston attacked that dog.” Paul pointed in the direction of the retreating man as he spoke.
She slapped a hand over her mouth. “Are you kidding?”
“Hardly.”
Laughter bubbled out and over her hand. “That was your dog?”
The anxiety inside him calmed to a steady boil. “How do you know the story?”
“Everyone knows the story. Mango’s owner told everyone who would listen. He made Boston out to be a vicious killer.”
Paul felt outraged on Boston’s behalf. “Who is this guy?”
“The dog’s owner? He’s my photographer.”
Paul’s lungs deflated. “Well, damn.”
She doubled over. It took another few minutes before she regained her composure and could talk without losing it again. “The real question is, with how our lives have connected and how close we live together, how we didn’t cross paths before that email you sent.”
The last of his worries fled. Here he was worried about pets and stupid neighborhood issues and she was concentrating on their lives together. On a potential relationship. Speaking in terms of them and never just her.
He liked the way her mind was working. “We always did have a case of chronically bad timing.”
She shook her head. “Not anymore.”
A man stepped right in front of her near the front of the deli. He was older, maybe in his late fifties, and from the way his T-shirt rode up on his belly, looked like he’d eaten more than his share of desserts.
He pointed at her. “You’re that woman.”
She hated this part. The overly friendly bordering on combative meetings with people who had seen her on the Internet. Most of her fan meetings were positive, but every now and then, one wandered into danger territory. This guy didn’t seem dangerous, and there were people around and clerks in the store, but he seemed like the entitled-to-touch type. Her least favorite.
“Excuse me.” She tried to maneuver around him.
He stepped closer until less than a body width separated them. “The one who strips on the TV.”
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