Ginger did not reach for his hand. She knew that if she did, there would be no turning back, that despite her above-average qualities, she would get sucked into the languid and sexy orbit of this dark-eyed panther man. And she couldn't possibly do that, because she was done being a fool. She was sick of being hurt. Besides, she had boys to raise, an ex-husband to rehabilitate, and a career to rescue.
Now was not a good time.
Lucio let his hand drop again. I cannot blame you, bonita. When it comes to men it is always smart to err on the side of caution, and I see you are a very smart woman.
Ha! Now that was a word Ginger had not applied to her personal life in a long while. In recent years she'd come to doubt not only her intelligence but also her basic good judgment. In college, her mantra had been Follow your bliss. These days it was What the hell were you thinking?
Ginger knew that if she were truly smart, she wouldn't have come out here to talk to Lucio. She wouldn't be standing here next to him in the low light of evening, aware of the closeness of his body, the scent of his skin, the weird energy bouncing around between them. If she were smart, she would have stayed away from him entirely. If she were smart, she would have ordered a size six bridesmaid's dress and avoided this entire dilemma.
And if she were really, really smart, she wouldn't do what she was about to do.
Ginger took a breath. She reached out a trembling hand. Here is my card. My numbers are on the back.
Lucio took it, intentionally letting his fingers brush across the top of her hand. Ginger nearly jumped off the ground.
He raised a single dark eyebrow and gave her a tentative smile. I am not sure what this means, senora.
It means if you suddenly feel the need to photograph lapdogs, give me a shout. Good night, Lucio.
Ginger turned and walked away, leaving Lucio in the garden. She knew he was checking her out. She could feel the heat of his stare all over her legs and backside. But he said nothing. He let her go without a fight.
Ginger appreciated that he'd respected her wishesfor the most part, anyway.
It was hours later when the four women raised a glass to Josie and Rick and enjoyed a leisurely dinner at Carneros Bistro in downtown Sonoma. While they ate, Ginger got the distinct impression that Mrs. Needleman was taking Bea under her wingto what end, she wasn't sure. Bea was an assistant sports editor at the Herald who spent most of her free time driving her Finnish spitz to West Coast dog agility contests. Bea was also a former Olympic swimmerexcept that she had never gotten to compete in the 1980 games because of the boycott, a tragedy she'd just described to Mrs. Needleman in dramatic detail. Ginger couldn't imagine what Mrs. Needleman and Bea had in common, but their camaraderie was obvious.
Roxie seemed antsy all through dinner, and Ginger couldn't blame her. Her friend's life was in transition and she knew she just wanted to get home. Roxie had been the criminal courts reporter for the Herald, but just weeks after an ugly breakup with her boyfriend, the paper had canned her. Roxie was trying to make a go of a Web site called i-vomit-on-all-men.com, an online community where women shared boyfriend horror stories from around the world. She'd recently expanded into retail sales of hats, shopping bags, shirts, bumper stickers, and coffee mugs, and she was struggling to keep up with demand.
But the most immediate source of Roxie's anxiety was probably the phone calls she'd received from the kennel where her behaviorally challenged dog was being boarded. They'd informed her that Lilith was not socializing well with male dogs and male kennel workers. This was not a shocker.
Though Ginger had enjoyed the tasty seared tuna and the mixed green salad, she couldn't relax during dinner, either. Her mind kept wandering back to Luciothe expression on his face when she gave him her card, that sly grin that revealed his amusement at her lack of willpower. All she'd needed to do was say good-bye and walk away. But she'd left the door open for Lucio when she gave him her card.
Why? Why? Why had she done that? She didn't need a man in her life. She wouldn't have the time or energy to deal with a man even if she had one. Especially a man who stretched the truth!
Which reminded Ginger of the main reason for her unease. Her boys were staying with Larry for the weekend, which was nothing unusual. But her ex-husband's attention span was growing increasingly short, and Ginger wasn't sure she could trust him to keep an eye on the twins, or, more specifically, Jason. She knew Joshua could take care of himself and most of the West Coast. But Jason needed eagle-eyed adult supervision, something that had recently proven too much for Larry.
In the last few months, Jason had been picked up for curfew violation, destruction of public property, and underage drinkingall while in Larry's care. In each instance, Larry admitted he'd been preoccupied with a girl, which wasn't a sexist comment because he clearly preferred the company of females under twenty-one years of age. Maybe he always had.
Ginger dropped her head to her hand, her brain heavy with the truthif Larry continued to devolve like this, she'd have to go back to court to demand full custody. And that would require money, grief, and time she couldn't spare.
Are you all right? Bea tapped Ginger's other hand where it gripped the stem of her wine glass. Ginger jolted to attention.
Just tired, I guess.
It's been a whirlwind weekend, Roxanne said.
So much happiness, Mrs. Needleman said, a devilish smile on her lips. Now, which of you ladies do you suppose will be the next to marry?
Everyone's jaw dropped. The silence fell on them with a thud. The busy restaurant buzzed around them, but no one moved.
Then Bea snorted with laughter.
Ginger and Roxie stole a quick glance at each other. Would this be the moment Bea chose to come out of the closet? Would she finally admit that the reason she never dated was that she didn't find men attractive? Would everyone finally get the answer to the question no one had ever dared ask?
I noticed that Josie didn't throw her bouquet, Mrs. Needleman added helpfully.
She knew it would've hit the dirt, Roxie said.
Bea smiled big. Well, I think it's obvious, she said. Ginger's our next vision in white!
What? Once Ginger's eyeballs stopped throbbing, she gaped at her laughing friends. That's totally ridiculous and you know it.
Well, it sure as hell isn't going to be me, Roxie said, taking a sip of her pinot noir. I haven't had anything close to a date in months, and, besides, a wedding wouldn't exactly be good for business, now would it?
Bea chuckled. You'd have to change the name of your site to ‘i-vomit-on-almost-every-man.'
Roxanne thought that was funny.
Mrs. Needleman shook her head. Terrible. Just terrible, she muttered. Such a thing would have been unspeakable in my day.
Roxanne took umbrage at that. Really? Women didn't have man problems when you were young, I take it?
Mrs. Needleman's shoulders moved up and down while she chuckled. Of course we did! The old woman's chuckle faded into a sigh. Modern-day woman didn't discover the broken heart, my dears. As long as there have been men and women there's been drama, betrayal, ecstasy, hope, despair, and even, on occasion, love. But it's never been a cakewalk for any of us.
So what's so terrible about my Web site, then? Roxanne asked.
Mrs. Needleman didn't bother to hide her sadness, and her old eyes grew watery. The sheer amount of venom oozing out of everyone these daysit's destructive to the spirit of the world. She pointed an arthritic finger at Roxanne. You may think your business is tongue-in-cheek and harmless, but it's feeding the dragon, you see. If the world is to survive, we need women who are open to love, not hardened by bitter resentment.
Roxie laughed uncomfortably. Hey, well, bitter resentment happens to be a growth industry. My retail sales are up four hundred percent since June!
Bea snorted again.
Mrs. Needleman pushed her chair away from the dining table, piqued. Only love attracts love. Distrust only creates more distrust. It's a universal truth.
She lowered her eyes and in a whisper added, I fear I'm running out of time.
Ginger was struck by the weight of Gloria's softly spoken words. It was almost as if the old lady thought the fate of humanity rested on her frail shoulders. Ginger reached across the table and touched the sleeve of Gloria's blouse.
We'll get you back to the ranch for the night. You must be very tired.
Oh, fiddle. Gloria waved her away. I'm just a lonely old bat who talks too much when she gets a captive audience. She stood up from her chair and grabbed her handbag. All right. It's settled, then.
What is? Bea asked.
Ginger will be our next bride. Mrs. Needleman announced this with a matter-of-fact nod of her tightly permed head. Now get me back to my room before I say something foolish.
* * *
The moon hung heavy and low in the sky. It peeked from behind the live oaks, spreading a pale blue glimmer over the gardens, the vineyards, and the bare skin of Ginger's legs. She pulled her wrap closer, shut her eyes, and melted into the Adirondack chair.
Tomorrow, she'd return to her real life. She'd pick up HeatherLynn from the kennel. Stop by the cleaner's. Get dinner ready for the boys. On Monday morning she'd go into a job that might not last the week, at a newspaper on its last legs. She'd call her lawyer about her custody concerns. She'd send out her resume. She'd talk to the school counselor about Jason's grades and arrange for Joshua's learner's permit test.
But until thenjust for the precious few moments that were left of this nightGinger would let herself enjoy the soft, perfumed air and the warmth of the zinfandel coursing through her veins. Yes, she'd made some really big mistakes in her life. But every step she'd ever taken, every decision she'd ever made, had led to her being here, at this moment, in this place. That meant everything was right with the world, just the way it was. Just for this moment.
She laughed quietly to herself. So this is the hard-won view from forty, she thought. This was the halfway mark of a woman's life, a life half lived and half yet to come. Exactly who was she at that moment? Where was the girl she'd once been? How long would it be before she found the best version of herself?
Ginger raised her wine glass and toasted the moon. She believed there was still time to become a confident woman. She could call a truce with her changing beauty, her lost dreams, her rearranged possibilities. There was still time to be happy. She took a long, deep sip of wine and wrestled with the idea of calling for another Botox appointment. She'd have to keep it a secret if she didBea, Roxie, and Josie would only tease her again when she didn't go through with it.
Maybe this time she'd find the strength to resist the temptation altogether. Maybe this time she'd truly believe that Larry running off with a college girl wasn't an indictment of her beautyit was an indictment of him.
She took another sip of the red wine and sighed. Just for tonight, she decided, she'd open her arms to the unlimited possibilities of her life right now, as it was. Where was the harm in that? It was permissible to let her imagination run free every once in a while, wasn't it? It was all right to let it out to play.
Even if it wanted to play with Lucio Montevez.
Ginger stretched out her legs and wiggled her toes in the moonlight. She fiddled with the hem of her skirt, feeling her fingers skitter across her thigh. It was still smooth and firm flesh, aching for a loving touch. Lucio had reminded her of that today. Melting under his caress, drowning in his kissit had flipped a switch inside her. She couldn't deny it another second. Her body was on fire for a man's attention. That man's attention.
It had been a long time since Larry had touched her with love. She couldn't even remember what it felt like. The last few years of her marriage had been confusing, hurtful, and lonely. Near the end, there wasn't a shred of devotion left in Larry's touchjust a cold, slimy guilt that he tried to cover up with words he knew Ginger longed to hear.
She held on to those words and pretended all was well for as long as possible. But she knew better, and it was a struggle to keep the truth pushed down inside her. She'd convinced herself that infidelity was something that happened to other couples, not themnot Larry and Ginger Garrison, college sweethearts, good and decent people who worked hard to build a life together and raise their sons.
She'd held on to the ruse right up until the night she caught Larry with the boys' math tutor in the cargo area of the minivan. In her own driveway, for God's sake! Larry's bare ass was a ghostly white in the glow of the streetlights as it moved up and down. Up and down.
Right there and then, as Ginger watched her husband of eighteen years porking a college coed, her delusions were history. So was her marriage.
Ginger took in a shaky breath, counting backward, adding up all the months of disconnection and, then, separation. Could it be that she'd gone without a man's loving touch for years? She laughed bitterly. She'd been deprived. She'd become empty. And now she was starving.
Her fingers pushed up the hem of her skirt. With her eyes closed, she reveled in the feel of the night air on the exposed skin of her inner thigh. How would it feel? What would the sensation be like if, just now, Lucio Montevez were to come to her, kneel in the grass at her feet like the sexual panther he was, stretch her thighs wide and hook them over the armrests of this old Adirondack chair and touch her, wet and silky and so very, very needy.
Ginger sought out the satiny crotch of her panties and pushed it aside. Her fingers were immediately drenched in juices. Her own wetness startled her. Her legs trembled. She took one last fortifying sip of wine, and, with eyes still closed, she set the goblet on the grass. Her mind reeled. Her body was greedy.
It was well past midnight. The ranch was silent. Only Mrs. Needleman and the women in the bridal party had stayed overnight. She was hidden under the shadows of the old live oak. No one would see.
So Ginger did it. She reached under her bottom and yanked off her panties, tossing them to the ground. She took a deep breath and imagined him right there, on his knees before her. He would spread his big hands over the tender flesh inside her thighs and pull her open. He would lower his mouth to her.
Lucio! she called out in a ragged whisper.
Ginger squirmed. God, the man knew his way around a woman! He was teasing her, nipping and licking and biting everywhere but where she needed it most. He was really, really good at this. So good it was pure torture.
Ginger heard herself groan in frustration. She imagined his dark head hovering between her thighs. She imagined the heat of his breath so close, but not close enough.
Finally! He flicked his tongue around and across her enflamed clitoris. Then he drank from her. He used his tongue and teeth and lips to pull the juices from her body, pull her soul to the brink of orgasm. Oh! He was using those strong hands to adjust her, like she was a plaything, a dollgrabbing her by the ass and pulling her toward his mouth like he was a starving man at that sexual buffet Bea had described.
Ginger's head swam with the imagesher body was the overflowing smorgasbord of lust and Lucio had already paid at the door. She wanted to feed him. He was a hungry man. Everyone wins!
Oh God, it felt so good, so real. Her hands fell away from her body, yet, somehow, the sensations continued to build. She imagined in detail how it would feelshe would reach for his long, thick hair, grabbing silky fistfuls as she pulled him tighter to her pussy.
That's right. Pussy. She never used that word. It was sordid, somehow. Daring. But wasn't that the whole point of a daringly sordid fantasy? So she let the word pulse through her. She was nothing but a lonely, dripping, needy pussy. And it was only for him. She was his pussy. Somewhere deep inside her she knew that she'd always belonged to him and only him, the sexual panther of the shadows.
This is your pussy, Lucio, she whispered. It belongs to you.
Suddenly, she threw her legs around his neck and convulsed wildly, the orgasm so deep and strong that it shot her into a swirling, black nothingness, then launched her back to consciousness with a flare of bright whit
e light. Her body twitched and burned in exquisite pleasure. Her eyes flew open, and her vision was filled with the night sky and what was either the aurora borealis or one hell of a long, drawn-out orgasm.
Inexplicably, she felt as if she were rising from the chair, her limp body being taken up to heaven in the arms of God himself. She must have orgasmed so hard that she'd had a stroke, which would explain the aurora borealis.
God, no! I can't die! Who will take care of the boys?
It was a particular taste that brought her to her senses. The taste of herself. Soft, wet lips covered hers, sharing the tangy, salty taste of her own body. The mouth was covered in her juices and it pressed harder and harder against hers.
My God, you are delicious, the lips said, an accent falling thick and hot in her ear, on her face. She was being carried up the lawn toward the guesthouse'but how?
I will need more, pelirroja, said the unmistakable voice. I will be taking more of the redheaded pussy you say is mine.
Ginger stiffened, a lightning bolt of awareness hitting her smack between the eyes. Ohmigod, put me down! She tried to pry herself from Lucio's arms, but his muscles only contracted further. She was trapped against his chest as he climbed the walkway to the guesthouse. I said put me down! Now! Are you deaf?
Lucio ignored her. He plowed ahead, now almost at the guesthouse door. Ginger's pulse hammered wildly. She could hardly breathe. How in God's name had she ended up being carried to her door twice in one day by the same man? Had she fainted again? No, waithe'd really had his mouth on her! It had all been real! This was awfultoo awful to face.
Put me down. This time her warning was delivered in a menacing whisper. Put me down right this fucking second or I'll scream so loud you really will be deaf when I'm done.
Lucio's response was to reach around her face and cover her mouth with his big hand until they reached the guesthouse porch. Once there, he eased her down to her feet but kept her mouth tightly covered. He turned the doorknob with his free hand.
He pressed Ginger's back against the front of his body. Ginger wasn't stupid. Something big and hard was poking into the base of her spine, and she knew exactly what it was. She tried to squirm away.
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