A tiny smile played around the edges of her mouth. “Mmm. Very.”
The tension in her shoulders began to ease inch by inch, and after only a few moments she drifted off to a light sleep, her breathing slow and even.
He was struck by the picture she made in the golden twilight. She was so beautiful, with those long eyelashes and delicate features and that lush, kissable mouth.
He could sit here watching her sleep for hours. The depth of the contentment easing through his insides scared the hell out of him. He was a tough-guy FBI agent. How could he be content sitting out on a quiet patio on a summer evening, watching his next-door neighbor sleep?
The truth was, he had missed having her around these past few weeks since his mother had come. He hadn’t realized just how much until right this moment.
He left her sleeping for several minutes, until a quick check of his watch told him it was past time to turn the chicken breasts again. Though he tried to be as quiet as possible, he couldn’t avoid making some noise as he lifted the lid of the gas grill.
It wasn’t exactly a huge commotion, but she startled awake as quickly as a soldier on patrol.
“Oh.” She blinked several times. “Did I fall asleep?”
“Looks like.”
She flushed, her eyes mortified. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” he said gruffly. “You needed the rest. I’m only sorry you didn’t get more. After we eat, you ought to just go catch an hour or so of sleep before your girls get home from the movie.”
She ignored the advice. “How long on the chicken?”
“Just a few more moments.”
“I suppose I’d better go in and take care of the rest of the meal then.” She rose and her dress fluttered around her legs.
“If you wouldn’t mind bringing everything outside, we could eat back here.”
“That would be nice. I’ll be right out.”
Though he knew it was a lost cause, he tried to focus on the hapless mystery novel again until she came out the back door carrying a wicker basket and wearing a strange expression.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“I think we’ve been set up.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t suppose you happened to notice the dining room before you came out, did you?”
“No. Why?”
“It looks like something out of a fancy restaurant. White tablecloth, crystal glasses, wine chilling on the table. The whole works. Your mother went to a lot of trouble on our account.”
Ah. Now it all was starting to make sense. He grimaced. The blasted woman was matchmaking! He thought of the strange looks his mother had split between him and Lisa and hoped like hell he’d been successful at concealing his complicated feelings for her.
Embarrassed at Lynn’s anything-but-subtle maneuverings, he growled an oath.
Lisa’s laugh chimed through the backyard. “Oh, it’s not that bad. I think it’s rather sweet of her, actually. I haven’t been set up on a date since my freshman year of college.”
“It’s not a date,” he growled.
“Right. Well, whatever it is, I was sure you wouldn’t want all your mother’s hard work on our behalf to go in vain so I brought out the wine and the glasses.”
“As dark as it’s getting with those clouds, we might need the candles too.”
“Good point. I’ll bring them out on the next trip.”
With a flick of her wrists she spread out a crisp white cloth on the picnic table, then began setting out dishes and flatware.
Despite his lingering chagrin and annoyance at his mother, he enjoyed watching Lisa bustle around. She had such unconscious grace. It was there in everything she did, from the way she rolled the cloth napkins and set them by the plates to the efficient manner she lit the slim candle tapers to the small, bright handful of flowers she carefully picked from the garden and set in a vase from the kitchen.
Just as he turned off the propane to the grill and prepared to remove the chicken, Allie came out of the kitchen with the rest of the meal Lynn had prepared—a tossed salad and two huge russet potatoes smothered in butter and sour cream.
“Remind me to thank your mother,” Lisa said after a few moments of small talk while they began to eat. “This is lovely. I can’t remember the last time I had a grownup meal, with wine and everything. Usually it’s Kool-Aid at my house.”
Some wild impulse prompted him to speak the thought that had been rolling around his mind ever since she had walked into the backyard—longer even than that, if he were honest about it.
“We should do this for real sometime,” he said. “Go somewhere nice, just the two of us. My mom could watch Anna and Gaby for you, or maybe that neighbor girl who tends them for you.”
For a moment she looked shocked by his invitation—awkward and out of practice though it was—then her eyes softened. A corner of her mouth lifted, then she quickly looked back down at her plate, but not before he saw what he thought might be regret in her eyes.
“I’d like that, Gage. I really would.”
“We’ll do it then. How about next weekend?”
Her gaze met his and once more he thought he saw sadness in those blue depths. “I think I’ll have to see how next week goes, okay? Can I…let you know?”
“Sure. We could call it a celebration dinner.”
She took a sip of wine, then set her glass down carefully. “Oh? What would we be celebrating?”
“I have a doctor’s appointment in the morning. At the last visit he said he was just about ready to take off the casts and thought he might do it at my next appointment. I’ll probably still be stuck in this chair for a week or so while I work on the weight bearing, then it’s on to crutches.”
“That’s wonderful, Gage! I know how anxious you are to have the casts taken off.”
“Right. Mostly I’m eager to get back to work again.”
To his surprise, the joy on her features gave way to wariness. “Oh? When are you planning on going back?”
“Tomorrow, for starters. I’ve made plans to go in for a few hours in the afternoon. I’ll have to see how much Potter, the agent in charge of the Salt Lake field office, will let me handle.”
“I’m sure you can’t wait.” He couldn’t figure out why her voice sounded wooden, stilted.
“It’s been tough having to stay on the sidelines. I had to leave several open investigations, and I’d like to be updated on them.”
* * *
Allie tried to show proper interest as Gage talked about returning to work, but all the while she wanted to stand in the middle of this beautiful flowery space and weep.
Here it was, then. The inevitable had finally caught up with her. If he planned to return to work in the afternoon, she knew she and the girls would have to be gone by morning. The risks of staying were simply too great—she couldn’t afford to take a chance, not with her daughters at stake.
This would be the last moments they would share together before she and her girls disappeared from his life.
She sincerely hoped he couldn’t hear the sound of her heart crumbling apart.
If this was their last time together, she didn’t want to spend it moping and dreary, dreading the morning. She wanted to savor every moment, store it up in her memory for all the dark and lonely days ahead.
She wanted to seduce him.
The thought whispered into her mind, and even the evening breeze couldn’t cool the heat that leaped to her cheeks.
Oh, my. She fought the urge to press her hands to her face. She couldn’t possibly! What did she know about seduction? Okay, Jaime had always seemed to enjoy it when she made the first moves toward intimacy but that was vastly different. He had been her husband. They had a relationship built on love and devotion. He adored her, and anything she did had been with the blissful confidence that he would never dream of rejecting her.
Gage, on the other hand. How would she ever dare have the courage to seduce him?
> This would be her only chance, though. She was leaving in the morning and would never see him again. Her heart ached as she realized she could either gather her courage and make the first move or she could spend the rest of her life with cold, lonely regret.
Whatever she decided, she didn’t have to do it right this second. They had a few hours before Lynn would be back with the girls. She jumped to her feet so abruptly her chair teetered backward then settled on four legs once more.
“Your mother said something about peaches and vanilla ice cream for dessert. Would you like some?”
He looked baffled by her behavior but nodded. “Sure. That sounds great.”
Grateful for the temporary reprieve, she hurried into the kitchen and found the fresh sliced peaches in the refrigerator. While she dished the ice cream, she watched him out the window. With the breeze ruffling his hair and a slight smile on his beautiful, hard features, he looked more relaxed than she had ever seen him.
A low, insistent ache began in her stomach and spread out in rippling waves. She felt weak, trembly, but she knew she didn’t need to check her glucose level. The reason for her jitters sat outside the window, oblivious to her turmoil.
She wanted to be with him more than she wanted her next breath. She took several deep breaths to try to center herself, then carried the bowls outside again.
“No ice cream for you?” he asked after she handed him his dessert.
“I’m happy with just peaches.” She would be even happier with just him but she couldn’t tell him that so she contented herself with savoring the sweet, summery fruit.
When her bowl was nearly empty, she looked up after taking a bite and found him watching her, glittery desire in his eyes.
She swallowed the mouthful, her nerves fluttering. So she wasn’t the only one who felt the low tension simmering between them. The realization gave her the courage to lean forward.
“You have a little ice cream right there.” With her thumb, she slowly dabbed at the corner of his mouth. His lips were cool from the ice cream, a sensual contrast against the heat of her skin.
“Is it gone?” His voice sounded almost harsh in the soft quiet of the evening.
“Not quite.” She leaned in and pressed her lips with aching gentleness to the spot then she drew back slightly, sweetness on her lips.
“There,” she said breathlessly. “Now it’s gone.”
He exhaled a low, heartfelt oath. “If you want to start something, let’s start something,” he growled and reached for her.
His mouth devoured hers with a hunger that matched her own, and she wanted to laugh for joy. Maybe she was better at this whole seduction thing than she thought. One tiny kiss later, here they were.
She lost track of everything—the approaching darkness, the girls, her inevitable departure. For this moment there was only Gage and his mouth against hers.
And a rainstorm.
At first she was too wrapped up in the kiss to register the cool drops on her skin as anything more than something odd that didn’t quite belong. A moment later those first few tentative drops gave way to one of the rapid summer deluges that could spring up so suddenly in the Rockies.
“Oh!” she gasped, wrenching her mouth away. “We need to get you inside or your casts will be a soggy mess! Even if they are coming off tomorrow, you don’t want to get them drenched or you’ll have to spend a miserable, itchy night.”
“That would be nothing new.” His words were gruff but for once the meaning in his eyes was clear—she was more to blame for any of his nocturnal misery than his casts.
“Hurry inside!” she said, even though it took every bit of self-restraint she had not to kiss him again. “I’ll take care of the rest of this.”
He looked as if he wanted to argue, but after a moment he complied, wheeling quickly toward the front of the house. Wondering if she would have to start all over now, she quickly began gathering the remains of their meal, stowing it all in the same wicker basket she had found in the house earlier to haul everything out.
She rushed into the kitchen with the intention of hurrying through the house to help Gage up the steeply angled ramp to the porch but to her surprise she found him inside ahead of her.
“That was fast!”
“I’m sorry the rain ruined your grown-up dinner.”
“I’m not. I love a good summer rainstorm.” She smiled, wiping sodden strands of hair out of her eyes, amazed at how fast they had been drenched by the quick storm. She probably looked like a drowned rat, but she couldn’t worry about it. Nothing as minor as a little rain would ruin her last moments with him.
“We’re dripping all over the floor,” Gage murmured.
“It will wipe up.” In the hallway linen closet, she found a neat stack of clean, fresh-smelling towels and pulled several out. When she returned to the kitchen, she bent to clean up the small puddle dripping from his wheelchair then started carefully wiping down his casts.
“You don’t have to do that.”
She glanced up to find him watching her with that same glittery look he’d worn earlier. “I know. I want to, though. Is that okay?”
His laugh sounded ragged. “I think anything you wanted to do right about now would be just fine with me, unless it involved you walking out the door.”
She couldn’t contain her smile. “Then you won’t mind if I do this.” Leaning over the arm of the chair, she pressed her mouth to his softly. He pulled her across his lap and deepened the kiss. For several long moments, they were tangled together, lost to everything but each other.
“Why do we always seem to end up doing this in the kitchen?” she murmured.
His eyes held laughter and unbridled desire. “Where else would you like to be doing it?”
Words hovered on her tongue but she was too chicken to tell him. What kind of wanton would he think her if she dared utter them? On the other hand, she reminded herself again, this was her one and only chance to be with him. Ever. She couldn’t let a silly thing like nervousness ruin it.
“The bedroom,” she whispered, meeting his gaze with what she hoped was an expression of confidence.
He froze and stared at her, his gray eyes intense and aroused. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely positive.”
He kissed her fiercely, then groaned. “I’d give anything to be able to carry you into my bed like some conquering hero. A few more weeks, maybe.”
In a few weeks she would be long gone, just a memory. She touched his face. “I don’t need that. I only need you.”
“How about a ride, then?”
She gasped as he started to wheel toward the bedroom. It was a tight fit through the doorway but she curled her legs up and they managed to make it through. Inside his bedroom, he closed and locked the door behind them, then captured her mouth with his again.
“It just occurred to me that the logistics of this might be a little tricky,” he murmured, his breath tasting of wine and peaches and vanilla ice cream. “I’m not good for much with these damn casts on my legs.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Agent McKinnon. I think you’re good for plenty,” she said on a gasp as his wandering hands found the curve of one breast through the wet cotton of her sundress. Fiery need shot through her, rich and exhilarating.
“A few things, maybe.” He dipped his head and suckled her through the damp material. “Still, you’re going to have to do a lot of the work here, I’m afraid.”
“Poor little old me,” she teased and shifted enough that she could pull off his damp shirt, revealing all those wonderful sleek muscles she had admired for so long. Her hands explored his skin, but the tight space in the wheelchair limited movement.
By unspoken agreement she rose so that he could transfer to the bed, then she followed him, taking care not to jostle his casts.
“I bet you’re wishing now you and Ruth hadn’t been so quick to move my nice big king-size mattress out of here.”
A quick laugh escaped her. �
�Are you still sulking about that?”
“Hey, I love that bed.”
“But do you really think we need acres of room?” She leaned across his bare chest and brushed her lips across his. “I don’t think cozy is necessarily a bad thing.”
His smile was dangerous. “Good point.”
His hands worked the front buttons of her sundress and he pulled it down over one shoulder. As he bared her to his gaze, she was glad she wore a pretty, lacy bra—one of her favorites—instead of a plain, old everyday cotton one. A small corner of her mind wondered if she might have subconsciously planned something like this even before she had come over and found the intimate dinner Lynn had arranged for them.
Then Gage lightly drew his thumb across her skin just above the cup of the bra and she forgot to think. She shivered and closed her eyes, absorbing every sensation. When he dipped a thumb under the lace of her bra and touched bare skin, she gasped and shifted to give his exploring hand better access.
Her nipples were swollen, achy for his touch. A moment later he worked the front clasp of her bra and found the hard, taut peaks.
“Oh, my,” she murmured.
His low laugh scored across her sensitive nerve endings. As he touched her, caressed her, his mouth found hers again. She drowned in his kiss—in the taste of him and his clean male scent and the warmth of his tongue tangling with hers.
His hand shifted from her breasts and moved down her skin. An instant later she felt his hand near her infusion site and she suddenly panicked and scrambled up.
“What’s the matter?”
“I forgot about this.” Embarrassed, she covered the spot to the lower left of her navel where the insulin pump fed into her. If she’d been thinking earlier, she would have tried to unobtrusively pull out the catheter before they got to this point so that he wouldn’t be confronted with such a stark reminder of her condition.
“I’m sorry. It can be kind of a mood breaker.”
“Lisa, it would take a whole lot more than that to break the mood for me.”
He pulled her back to him and kissed her again. She could still feel the heat of his arousal jutting against her insistently.
“I can remove the pump. It will just take a minute.”
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