“Ditto on the circles. How did Cooper come into this conversation at all?”
“Because I thought that’s who we were talking about,” Merry said wryly.
“Not me. That isn’t who I was talking about.” But Jack suddenly scratched his chin. “I think I’m starting to get it. You mean…Cooper told you a confidence. Something you didn’t tell me.”
“Yes. I already said that.” Merry’s head was beginning to spin. “It was too serious a thing to keep from you, Jack, but just like we were both discussing, neither of us have had a second alone since the night we—”
“Made love.”
It was the second time he’d filled in that blank. It seemed easy enough for him. But Merry could feel her body flush with awareness. Her breasts, her thighs, cripes, even her belly button, remembered his touch with exquisite clarity. She wanted again. Wanted him. Jack seemed so alone, so not in touch with his own sense of honor and his giving nature and how wonderful he was.
She had to fight tooth and nail to get her mind tracked to the conversation. “All right, if you didn’t come over here to talk about Cooper, then…”
“I came over to tell you about Charlene. She told me something in confidence several hours ago. It was really important to her that I not tell you…but it kept gnawing at me, that this was something you needed to know. And things have been so hectic that I couldn’t be sure of finding time to tell you alone, unless I—”
“Climbed in the window,” she finished for him.
“Exactly.” He sighed. “So have we finally got that straight now?”
She knee-walked over to him on the mattress, thinking that nothing was straight. For that matter, if he knew something serious about Charlene—her whole life was that girl right now. Nothing was more important than Charlene.
But Charlene was asleep. And there were a lot of hours before her alarm clock was going to go off in the morning.
Which meant that right now Merry could freely concentrate on something else that deeply concerned her.
When she first leaned in to a kiss, Jack momentarily stiffened—as if he’d never expected the move. That went for two of them, because she’d never expected to make the move, either. Yet right then, she knew, irrevocably knew, that this was the right thing to do.
She expected to get hurt from inviting more closeness with Jack—but she’d expected that from the start. She couldn’t imagine Jack wanting a long-term relationship with someone like her—someone who had to look pretty ditzy and impulsive and unserious, compared to a man like him. But this moment wasn’t about the future. It just seemed important to her, right then, to love this man. To appreciate him. To communicate something to him, with him, that neither seemed able to do with words.
When her lips sank on his, she felt him sigh all the way through her fingertips. He didn’t want this, all right. He didn’t want her kisses…like he didn’t want to win the lottery. Like he didn’t want a harem-filled dream. Like he didn’t want to be loved.
She was above him, for that first kiss, because she was still kneeling on the mattress, leaning over to find his mouth…to take his mouth. But her knees started to buckle. She had to sink back on her heels for balance, but she kept her mouth still softly glued on his, her arms slowly slinking around him.
Even though the room was dark, she closed her eyes, just wanting to savor this extraordinary sensation, the shivery sense of wonder that touching him invoked. Last time they’d come together like a fiery comet, all speed and steam. This time, her fingertips glided over neck, shoulders, arms. Not seeking to hold. Seeking to caress, to rub, to knead and know.
And his skin yielded beneath her hands as if no one had just touched him in forever—not for the joy of touching him. Not for the simple sensual pleasure of enjoying the texture of his flesh, the way it warmed for her. The way it gave for her. The way his breath caught, sharpened, for so little provocation.
She’d fought belonging all her life. She’d fought feeling tied to anything. But it was different, feeling loved. At least feeling loved by a man she had fallen so helplessly in love with herself.
She pushed at his sweatshirt, severed the kiss long enough to peel the fabric over his head, and by then was already aiming for another kiss. This one was deep enough, hard enough, rich enough, to topple his balance.
The couch mattress was thin, its springs mean-sharp, the wall so close that Jack could easily have cracked his head—if she hadn’t pulled him onto her, out of harm’s way. Her one leg dangled over the side, maybe so did his. But the logistics right then didn’t seem to matter.
His chest was bare under the sweatshirt, his heart pounding, hard and fast, making her breasts tighten and swell against him. For another two seconds she was still wearing a camisole. For another three seconds after that, she was still wearing underpants.
Bad mattress or no, one of the few things she’d brought from home was her own pillow and down comforter. Jack didn’t seem to appreciate those, either, because they graced the floor along with her clothes faster than silver. Faster than secrets. Faster than he could hook his leg around and twist her beneath him.
As if she minded.
One thing she was far more skilled at than Jack, though, was sloth. With him, she liked the idea of making laziness a whole art form. She looped her arms loosely around him, tucked her legs up with a little squeeze action, rolled her pelvis in a slinky dance move. He seemed to know that dance, know that rhythm, because he said against her throat, with the groan of a man in pain, “Damn it, Merry. Quit it. What are you trying to do to me?”
How could she quit? Given that kind of appreciation?
No matter what was wrong in her life…being loved mattered. Loving mattered. She believed that, with her heart, with her soul. She didn’t need anything from Jack. But feeling loved…just changed things. Made her feel stronger.
Made more things seem possible. And one thing that struck her as imminently possible, just then, was turning a traumatic night into a night of softness and love and fierce-hot sensuality. In fact, it struck her as an ideal moment to take her feminine powers out for a long, lazy spin…
“You’re so not a good woman, Merry,” Jack hissed at her.
“Oh, thank you.” And yeah, she’d dipped down for a taste. She wasn’t normally quite that uninhibited, no matter how much she liked to sell herself outwardly to others, but with Jack…well. It was so much fun. Destroying him. Taking that fine, strong, so serious mind and turning it into a sponge. And it was so easy…
All it took was loving him. Enjoying his body. Taking her time to nip and taste and rub and entice. A kiss here. A tongue there. She gave him a little boob rub…a new idea, one she hadn’t thought of before, just pressing her boobs to his chest and then winding her way down, having her breasts guide the way down that long, long torso.
He muttered something harsh and guttural…and for the first time in days, she felt a burst of laughter bubble in her throat. Life definitely hadn’t been going too smoothly lately…but damn.
Life wasn’t just about problems—or it shouldn’t be. It should be about moments like this. When a woman could be with her man. When nothing was going on in the universe but loving. When a woman could vent all the positive psychic energy on her guy that she could possibly conjure up.
Her theory worked just fine until said guy spun her around and leveled her, flat and hard, into the mattress. The face, looming over her in the darkness, looked as sharply carved as a marble statue, but the eyes blazed, dark and hot.
“Hi there, lover,” she whispered.
“Don’t you try talking nice to me after what you’ve been doing,” he snarled, and then ducked his head.
Well, damn the man, if he didn’t abruptly, relentlessly, smother her with tenderness. He offered kisses, softer than secrets. A touch that revered and cherished. And at some point, she felt him sliding, gliding, so naturally inside her. He claimed her slowly at first, but then deeper, much deeper, so deep that he just possib
ly reached the depth of her womb.
“No one,” he whispered. “No one, Merry. Ever. Made me feel the way you do.”
And double damn the man if that didn’t tip her right off the cliff. Orgasm was such a silly, pale word for the clenching shudders that rippled through her, forcing her eyes closed, her throat to bare for his lips, her hips to cleave tight to him in surrender. Surrender, and triumph both.
Belonging. Who knew it was an emotion? Yet moments later, as they both lay there, spent, she snuggled close with a sweet rush of belonging. “Where’d I ever find you?” he murmured, and she chuckled against his throat—then kissed his throat, right below the chin line. Then snuggled in tighter and fell hopelessly sound asleep.
SHE WOKE UP ALONE, and stretched like a lazy cat. Talk about euphoria. The only way she could feel happier was if Jack was lying next to her—which, naturally, he couldn’t be. Thankfully he’d managed to stay awake and get up and go back to his boys. Still. Falling asleep in his arms had felt more luxurious than a present of diamonds, and her body still felt the sated pleasure from being with him.
The clock claimed it was only six-thirty, which meant that Charlene wasn’t even close to getting up for school yet. She leaped out of bed, pranced around finding clothes, danced silently out to the coffeemaker…she still wasn’t totally friends with the high-tech appliance, but they seemed to reach a fairly regular truce. While waiting for the fancy machine to chug through its cycle, she picked up the phone and dialed Minnesota.
“There’s only one person in the solar system who would dare call me at this hour,” Lucy said. “It better be Merry.”
She chuckled. “And I better not have woken you, but you’ve said a zillion times that you’re up with Laurie at this hour.”
“I am. This is a monster baby. She never wants to sleep past four. On the other hand, we get these first two hours of the day together, just ourselves.”
“You’re still in love? Even after all these days and weeks of no sleep?”
“With the baby and Nick both. You think it’s sleep deprivation making me crazy?”
“Nah. I think it’s happiness.” The light went on the coffee machine. With the phone tucked in her ear, Merry poured the first mug. “I don’t want to keep you from the private baby time for long. But I had to call you. Had to share this with someone. Oh, Lucy…”
“What?”
“I am so, so, so in love.”
On the other end, Lucy let out a soft laugh. “I can hear it in your voice. You’re dancing on air. It has to be the neighbor?”
“Yeah, Jack.” She couldn’t keep the bliss from her voice. “In the beginning, I couldn’t believe it could go anywhere…and even now I can’t swear where it’s headed. For sure there’s no way to do this fast. I have Charlene, and he has two teenagers. There’s no hurrying anything, but Lucy, I can feel it building. So strong. So real. It’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“Merry…”
“What?”
“I’ve heard you say this before.” Lucy’s voice had turned gentle, with a rim of worry now. “You do tend to take on everything at five hundred percent, you know. To throw yourself into a new job. To start a project with all your energy. To love with your whole heart.”
Through the east window, the sun was just starting to peek over the horizon with a flush of pale rose. A bird suddenly started chirping. “But not men,” Merry said. “You’ve never heard me be in any kind of hustle to use the L word with a man.”
“That’s true. It’s been hobbies and jobs and projects that you fall head over heels for.” Lucy’s voice turned thoughtful. “With men, you usually—”
“Drop them. Not stick. Not even think about staying the course,” Merry admitted. “But this is completely different. I never wanted to be tied to a job or a place. You said it one time, Lucy, that my mom preyed on my mind. I know you’re right now. If there was ever a man who really mattered to me, I didn’t want a job or a place or anything else affecting whether I could be with him. I want a relationship where the two of us mattered more than anything else. Because when it comes down to it…if you’re not free to love, then you’re not really free.”
“All right. Now you’re starting to scare me.” In the distance Merry heard Lucy shifting the baby to her shoulder, heard the creak of an old rocker. “I’m beginning to think this guy is the real thing. Do I need to come there and check him out?”
Merry laughed. “That’s exactly what my dad said. And I can’t wait for you to meet him. But not quite yet. And that’s enough about me—How’s Laurie? You said you were going to download some new pictures.”
“You mean you actually want to see more? Could this be? That someone exists who’s willing to see another five hundred pictures of the baby?”
“Hey, you’re talking about my godchild.” They teased and chatted a little longer, but it was early in Minnesota, and Merry hung up after a bit. She sat, still smiling, so easily imagining her old friend rocking the baby. Lucy used to be a fussbudget extraordinaire, a hard-core picture straightener, a complete tidy freak…but that was the thing about old friends—at least the really good old friends. You knew their flaws and they knew yours. No need to pretend.
Lucy knew well how Merry had always presented a flaky image for the world.
Of course, she had been flaky in the past. But all her free-spirited attitude and buzzing around from job to job hadn’t been exactly what it seemed.
Suddenly she glanced up and noticed Charlene in the doorway. She was wearing a Chicago Bears T-shirt in a man’s XXX-large, which meant it trailed almost to the floor. In spite of the budding breasts, she looked so young and vulnerable with the bare feet and sleepy eyes and tousled hair.
“You’re up early,” Merry said cheerfully, yet immediately noticed that Charlene swiftly ducked away from direct eye contact, and was pulling at her fingers again. And abruptly Merry remembered last night—the time before she and Jack made love—the part he’d been trying to tell her something about a secret of Charlene’s.
“Yeah, I woke up when I thought I heard the phone. And then I was just wide awake. So…you have a godchild?”
“Yup. Little baby girl. You’ve heard me talk about Lucy and the baby before. Lucy was my best friend in school—”
“Yeah, but I didn’t know the baby was your godchild.”
Merry slipped off the stool, bending down to reach in the cupboard for the granola with almond cereal that Charlene loved. Something in her tone made Merry pause. “Is that a problem?” she asked in confusion.
“Problem? No problem. I’d just guess you’ll want to go live back there again. If you’ve got a godchild and best friend there and all. I mean, whenever.”
So it was that old story again. “The only reason I can imagine moving there was if you wanted to. Which would be fine. But as long as you’re happy here…one of these days, I want my dad to fly in to meet you. And Lucy can’t easily travel yet, just too tough with a baby that age. But a little later, I hope she’ll come and bring the baby, give you a chance to meet her.”
“Yeah, right.”
Merry heard the doubt. Hard to miss, when it had all that preteenager ring of sarcasm attached. It stung. Not for long. She served the cereal, the bowl, the milk, the napkin. Of course a leopard couldn’t change all her spots. She forgot the spoon.
“So what’s on the agenda after school today?” Merry asked. “There has to be a ball game practice of some kind. B-Ball? V-Ball? M-Ball? What?”
Charlene sighed. “Merry, you really don’t get the difference in the sports, do you?”
“Hey, I did cheerleading. And dance. It’s just the ball games that seem to blur altogether. Anyway, if it’s not sports, how about academic challenge? Or the science project—”
“Nothing going on after school today,” Charlene jumped in, before she’d run down the complete agenda of after-school activities.
“Good. Your hair’s flopping big-time. Wouldn’t you like a li
ttle cut and style?”
“I don’t need a cut and style. I need more wax,” Charlie informed her.
They’d see, Merry thought. She had an idea about the hair. And getting Charlene in a mall or salon environment meant she’d be on Merry’s turf. Which meant she’d have a much, much better chance of worming Charlene’s secret out of her. The one she’d told Jack.
As soon as the squirt was in school, she intended to call Jack anyway. Then she’d know the secret. And could strategize all day what to do about the problem—whatever it was—before the after-school hair crisis.
It was a good plan, she thought.
Of course everything seemed like a good plan, after having been made love to, thoroughly and fabulously well. Hell’s bells. Even looking at the sinkful of dirty dishes that had appeared out of nowhere made her smile.
Love did that to a woman.
WHEN DIANNE CALLED to let him know her business trip had been extended, Jack didn’t mind having the boys an extra week. Hell, he wished he had them full time. Even when they were being a pain, he still loved having them, and could usually rearrange his work to accommodate their long school commute. The only trial was getting them up at the crack of dawn.
Root canals had to be easier, and today he had the two extra boys to carpool as well. Once he faced Armageddon and finally got the whole surly crew into the car, though, they immediately quieted down. The three in the back seat even closed their eyes and nodded back to sleep.
Jack had ample time over the long drive to replay the night before with Merry. The climbing in her window, because he’d been so distraught over Charlene’s problem. His trying to tactfully start that whole dialogue and getting all muddled. His somehow—and how did those “somehows” keep happening?—ending up in bed with her.
Mostly his mind played and replayed the luxurious sex. That woman gave more in one encounter than he remembered in a dozen years of marriage. She was so…generous. So sensuous, so open, so giving.
Blame it on Cupid Page 22