One Summer Night

by Caridad Piñeiro

  Her sharp gasp as she felt him against her had him swelling even more beneath his jeans. When she rocked her hips against him, he grasped her hips to hold her still.

  “Slow,” he whispered and kissed her again. He took his time learning the shape and feel of her lips. The way her warm breath spilled against his as she sighed with pleasure. He moved away from her lips to the corner of her mouth for another kiss. A sample of her. He dropped a trail of kisses along the line of her jaw until he reached the sensitive spot just behind her ear. With a nibble and another kiss, he shifted to her earlobe and nipped and tugged, drawing another soft moan from her and a slow shift of her hips along his erection.

  “God, that feels so good,” he whispered and let out his own deep moan when she drew back over him.

  “They say anticipation just makes the wait worthwhile,” she said and mimicked his actions, dragging her mouth along his jaw and to a spot just below his ear.

  When she opened her mouth on him and sucked, he nearly jumped out of his skin. Each pull of her mouth had his dick pulsing in expectation, but he dampened that need, because tonight was not about sex.

  “If you keep that up, I may not be able to wait,” he confessed.

  Her husky laugh nearly undid him. With a quick love bite at that spot, she shifted back onto her buttocks and met his gaze. “I like you, Owen. I like that you can be honest with me,” she said, which made him feel like a total dick since, in some ways, he wasn’t being totally honest with her about lots of things. Like the lie he’d told his father. A lie that directly involved her. A lie that he’d told to save his own dreams as well.

  “I like you too, Mags. I’d like to see you again when we get back to the city,” he said, vowing to himself that he would not let that lie get in the way of what was happening between them.

  “I’d like that too, Owen,” she said and snuggled against him trustingly.

  His heart did a little jump of contentment with her action. He hugged her close and settled in to enjoy the peace in her embrace and the quiet of the late-summer evening. It wasn’t quite how he had pictured their night together would end, and yet somehow, it felt more right than he had ever expected.

  Chapter 14

  The papers that Connie spread out across the boardroom table on Tuesday morning told a story of a life interrupted and hopes and dreams that would never be fulfilled. By the end of the meeting, one thing was irrevocably clear. Maggie’s only choice was to put her big-girl panties on and stand up to her dad to save their Sea Kiss home, her town house, and the stores.

  All were a big part of her heart, she thought. Especially the stores. There were so many memories of visiting as a child. Her mother had taken her to the Fifth Avenue location regularly to walk the floors and speak to the staff. It wasn’t unusual for them to spend a few hours in the office her mother had had before her marriage had merged the Sinclair’s and Maxwell’s business interests. After that, she’d moved to the office in the Chrysler Building but had still spent time in the flagship store office when she visited.

  At Christmastime, one of the floors would become a Winter Wonderland for the children, complete with Santa and his elves. She remembered sitting on Santa’s lap and giving him her wish list of toys. She also recalled sitting there the year after her mother had died and asking for just one thing: to have her mommy back and meet the new little brother who had died as well.

  Forcing away the sadness, she vowed to try to make things right. But if this was going to be the very last Christmas for the stores, she intended for it to be the best Christmas ever. That would take months of hurried planning, because they were already late for the holiday season thanks to her father’s refusal to change. But she was up to the challenge both for herself and for her store’s employees.

  * * *

  To text or not to text. That was the question.

  Owen had always found texting to be too impersonal, much like voicemail.

  He hadn’t left one earlier when he’d called Maggie. She’d been out of the office, so her assistant had routed him to her voicemail, but after he’d recorded a stilted message, he’d deleted it and hung up.

  He didn’t dare to just show up on her doorstep. First, there was getting by building security. That meant someone from Maggie’s office had to clear him. By the time he took the elevator up the fifty-some floors, he worried that there’d be talk about why he was there and lots and lots of gossip. Maggie’s employees had to have seen the earlier photos in the paper. And of course, it wouldn’t be any kind of surprise for Maggie, because he’d have to have been cleared to come up.

  Just way too complicated, he thought as he leaned back in his chair and considered his options, hating his indecisiveness until he finally put together a plan of action. With one quick call, he had a bouquet of flowers headed her way with a very simple note.

  He set a reminder on his phone and turned his attention back to the drawings one of their architects had dropped off earlier that morning. He’d been in meetings all day but had been eagerly awaiting the plans. He unrolled the drawings and weighted down two of the sides so he could examine them.

  They’d purchased a building in the high Nineties on the East Side, not far from their new condo complex on what real estate agents were selling as Central Park North. It would always be Harlem as far as he was concerned.

  Since not even a facelift could fix the issues with their newly acquired building, they had moved out what few tenants were left to some of their nicer rental properties so they could demolish the structure and construct high-end apartments. With the building’s views of the East River, easy access to the FDR, and a nearby subway station, he didn’t think they’d have any trouble getting more than decent rents once it was done. They were also setting aside some units for lower-income families.

  As he pored over the drawings, he smiled. The architect had done a good job, providing a variety of units on the assorted floors, luxury condos on the higher levels, and a stunning penthouse along with easily accessed common areas, like a fitness room and a recreation hall that tenants could reserve when they needed more space for an event.

  He did have some additional ideas about the mix of units in the building. The demolition and new construction would be costly, and they needed a certain number of apartments to quickly recoup those costs as well as the original investment in the building itself.

  Those ideas prompted a load of new thoughts about how to restore some of the smaller Sea Kiss summer cottages that were still suffering Sandy damage. Issues with insurance and battles between FEMA and the local authorities had left them uninhabitable even years later. He could run those ideas past Maggie to see what she thought before he raised the concept with their committee in Sea Kiss.

  He sat down at his computer to draft a memo with his ideas when his phone beeped to remind him that he had to call Maggie.

  Walking to the entrance to his office, he closed the door and, for good measure, drew the blinds along the glass that made up one wall of his office, wanting total privacy for this moment. He strolled back toward his desk, sat on its edge, and engaged the video call app on his smartphone.

  It rang and rang and rang.

  He worried that either the flowers hadn’t gotten there in time or that she was busy or that maybe, worst of all, she’d just reconsidered and had no desire to see him. Disheartened by that possibility, he was about to disconnect when she breathlessly answered.

  It took a few seconds for her pixelated image to come together. She was smiling, her crystal-blue eyes bright and glittering.

  “Thank you so much for the flowers. They’re lovely,” she said and shifted the camera so he could see them.

  He grinned when he saw that the florist had gotten the order perfectly. A riot of off-white and pink cabbage roses were mixed with deep-blue hydrangea and stargazer lilies, just like the summer flowers he’d noticed that weekend at
Maggie’s Shore home.

  “You didn’t have to,” she said as the camera did a dizzying whirl before settling on her face again. “And while this is nice, you could have called or texted me a message.”

  “I hate texting,” he said.

  Her smile broadened, and she said, “I do too, plus there’s one thing I hate even more.”

  “Voicemails,” they said at the same time, drawing laughter from both of them.

  After the humor had quieted down a little, he really took the time to examine her. She seemed more peaceful than she had the other day. Maybe even downright happy. Her eyes, the windows to her soul, were free of the shadows and darkness he had seen just days earlier.

  “I can tell things seem to be going better.”

  While that might please him to no end, he knew his father would not be at all happy if Maggie had suddenly found a way out of the mess her company was in.

  “They are, but why don’t we save that discussion for tonight? Dinner? Somewhere neutral?”

  He huffed out a laugh before he said, “Do we need to establish a DMZ?”

  Her full lips quirked in a way he couldn’t quite read. “More like a DFZ?” At his questioning look, she clarified. “Dad Free Zone.”

  He grinned and nodded. “How about the Mesa Grill? I’d like to run some ideas by you for fixing up the Sea Kiss summer cottages.”

  Maggie considered his choice and smiled. “Sounds great. Tex-Mex and spicy is definitely not something either of our dads would like. Eight o’clock? I don’t know about your dad, but mine is usually in front of the television by then.”

  “Mine too. See you then, and, Maggie…”

  She waited, expectant. It was clear she was unable to read him, so he flashed her a megawatt grin to dispel any doubt.

  As she smiled back, he said, “I like seeing you happy.”

  Chapter 15

  Maggie saw Owen waiting for her by the door to the restaurant despite a late-summer heat wave that was toasting the city. Luckily, a thunderstorm was on its way to provide needed rain and cooling. The impending storm was sending gusts of wind whipping down the avenue, ruffling the thick strands of his black hair into disarray.

  As she approached, he held his hand out, and she slipped her hand into his, following his lead as he pulled her close and hugged her. She told herself not to read too much into how right it felt. How she knew that he’d had a smile on his face right before he’d brushed a kiss across her cheek. How her deep inhale of satisfaction filled her senses with the smell of Owen.

  “Hello, Maggie,” he whispered against her ear.

  “Hello, Owen,” she said and shivered as the first fat drop of rain landed on her sun-warmed skin and more quickly followed.

  “Let’s get inside,” he said, and hand in hand, they rushed into the restaurant.

  There was a good crowd in the place even on a Tuesday night, thanks to the popularity of the celebrity chef and the food, which was always excellent.

  Owen had made a reservation, and with barely a pause to check off his name, the hostess was soon guiding them to an intimate table in a quiet corner.

  He held the chair out for her gallantly and then took the spot to her right, surprising her. It put him much closer to her, so close that their knees bumped under the table.

  A waiter immediately arrived with menus and asked if they wanted any drinks.

  “How about some margaritas on the rocks?” Owen said.

  She nodded and, after the waiter left, quickly perused the menu. The drinks arrived in minutes, they placed their orders, and once the waiter had departed again, Owen held up his drink and said, “To Maggie’s happy day.”

  It was impossible not to smile at the toast and at the day she’d had, so she touched her glass to his and took a sip. Sweet and sour lime blended perfectly with the Cointreau and Jose Cuervo.

  “Dare I ask what made your day so great?” Owen said and set his glass on the table.

  “You may,” she said and took another sip. Her gaze skimmed briefly across his, and it was impossible to miss the gleam in his eyes that said he might dare to do more. She ignored the flutter of desire inside her and pushed ahead with her story. “For starters, I had it out with my dad. Not an easy thing to do, but I told him we were going to start making changes, including canceling a contract we’d argued about last week.”

  Owen grimaced, obviously understanding how hard the whole working-with-dad dynamic could be. “How’d he take it?”

  Maggie started to speak but then slapped a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry. Our truce clearly said no talk about family or business.”

  One corner of Owen’s mouth quirked up in a half grin. “We could make an exception tonight. After all, friends talk about all kinds of things.”

  Friends, she thought, only they both wanted to be more than friends. If only for tonight, she was willing to expand the terms of the truce, because for the first time in a long time, she felt both happy and optimistic about the stores. That also meant she might be able to have enough to save the shore home and pay off the loan on her town house.

  “My dad dug in his heels at first, but then surprisingly, amazingly actually, he gave in.”

  She recalled that moment when her father had seemed to have an epiphany and how his whole demeanor had changed in what seemed like the blink of an eye. Her throat tightened with emotion, and her voice was husky as she told Owen, “He said I had never reminded him more of my mother than at that moment. That when she’d been passionate about something, she wouldn’t let go. He said that if I truly believed this was what needed to be done, he wouldn’t stand in my way anymore.”

  She knew it was obvious to Owen how much her father’s words had affected her. Tears shimmered in her eyes, and her voice was thick with feeling.

  As one tear escaped and ran down her face, he cradled her cheek and swiped away the moisture with his thumb. “I’m glad he finally relented. And I know these are happy tears, right?” he said, gallantly trying to restore the joy she’d been feeling earlier.

  With a sniffle and a nod, she said, “Yes, they are. Happy tears. Thank you.”

  She covered his hand with hers and stroked it. Bestowed a watery smile on him that brightened little by little as they brought their joined hands to the table, and she provided a brief rundown of how the rest of her day had gone. How she had prepared to start some of the changes she’d been planning for so long.

  “It sounds like you’re going to be very busy,” he said.

  She detected the regret in his voice that it might mean he’d see less of her in the coming months. “It’ll be crazy, but I’ve got good people working for me. I know we’ll get it done.”

  As the waiter came over with their meals and placed them on the table, he asked, “And maybe have some time to sneak in another weekend or two down at Sea Kiss?”

  Maggie narrowed her gaze and searched his features, trying to get a sense of how serious he was about what he was proposing, since she was suddenly having a major attack of doubt about how much she could trust him. Truth be told, she really was contemplating sleeping with the enemy, much as her friends had kidded her. Plus, in some deep part of her, there was still the fear he’d leave her the way he had so many years earlier.

  “Maybe, only… What we say here is between the two of us, right?”

  That he got what she was intimating was immediately evident. His lips, those lips capable of that sexy, boyish grin, firmed into a knife-sharp line that cut into her with his displeasure, and his beautiful gray eyes became as lifeless as those on a shark.

  “There are probably a million reasons why you shouldn’t trust me,” he said.

  “Hundreds of millions if you’re referring to the stores,” she said, trying to lighten the mood, because she didn’t want to let her fears ruin what could possibly be something really good between them.<
br />
  The slight upward tilt of his lips was tempered by a tired exhale. “You can trust me, Maggie. I’m not my father’s son, even though he wishes that I were.”

  “I know I can trust you. I’m sorry about your dad and about the way he treats you and Jon,” she said, but it was painfully obvious that her words had caused hurt that couldn’t be brushed away with just a few words.

  “We deal, don’t we? We both lost our moms. We both have difficult fathers. Maybe we get lucky and they change. Just look at you. You managed to finally get your dad to see the light.”

  He attacked the last of his steak with short, jerky movements, and she opted to remain silent and let time ease some of the upset. As wonderfully prepared as the meal was, the flavors were dull thanks to the unhappiness still simmering in Owen.

  When the waiter arrived to clear the table and asked about dessert, they both demurred. Clearly, their time together would be over quickly tonight.

  After Owen paid for the meal, since this time it was a date, they hurried outside.

  The rain had come and gone during dinner, bringing a bit of chill to the night, but it was nothing compared to the frostiness between them.

  She faced him just as he said, “I’ll walk you home.”

  “You don’t have to. I can just grab a cab.”

  A small gust sent her hair across her face, and he reached out and tucked it back behind her ear. “I insist. I like to make sure my dates get home okay, remember?”

  She was about to protest when a powerful gust of wind blasted down the avenue and sent her reeling against him.

  * * *

  Owen cuddled her close, and the feel of her, the easy way she slipped an arm around his waist, melted some of the ice that had surrounded his heart during their dinner discussion. She looked up at him, question in her gaze, and he smiled, bent his head, and answered her with a kiss. A sweet, undemanding skim of his lips along hers. A kiss meant to reassure and also rebuild the happy mood with which they’d started the night. As the kiss ended and she pulled away, the relaxed grin on her face signaled his success and broadened his own smile.