The Promise of Love

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The Promise of Love Page 24

by Lori Foster


  “I’m sorry,” he said, finally managing the appropriate show of remorse. “That must have been hard.”

  “Not so bad, actually,” she said, offering him a reassuring smile. “We were too young to get married. We both realized that eventually, so our breakup was mutual.”

  “Why did you get married in the first place?” He couldn’t imagine doing such a thing. He’d never imagined marriage ever, really.

  Again he studied Franny, wondering just for a moment what it would be like to be married. To her.

  “I guess”—she quirked her lips as she considered the question—“I wanted stability. A family.”

  Her words surprised and intrigued him, but before he could ask her more, she continued. “But it didn’t work out that way. So once we divorced, I attended college to study business. Then I used the money I’d inherited from my parents and purchased the bed-and-breakfast.”

  He grew more curious. “Inherited?”

  She nodded. “Yes, my parents were killed in a car accident when I was twelve. I moved here to live with my aunt.”

  Rocco had no idea. Of course, he was quickly realizing he hadn’t had a clue about much when he’d lived here. He’d been so wrapped up in his own loss and hurt and anger, he hadn’t seen anything else.

  Maybe he hadn’t really seen anything his whole life.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize we had so much in common,” he said, feeling genuine sorrow. If he’d had a clue, he might have been there for her back in high school. He had no doubt she would have been there for him, if he’d let her.

  “It was hard,” she admitted. “But I made out flne. I love my bed-and-breakfast. And I have made a home for myself. My aunt is still here. I have lots of friends. I’m really at peace with my life.”

  He studied her again, realizing what she was saying was true. She was at peace.

  “You are a really amazing lady, Franny Mullens.”

  Franny stared at Rocco, her heart pounding. His dark eyes glittered with admiration and something else that she didn’t dare name.

  Then to her utter astonishment, Rocco leaned in, pressing his lips to hers.

  She’d imagined his kiss hundreds of times before, but they’d been the fantasies of a young girl. This was real, and far more intense than her childish imaginings. Hot and sexy. His lips tasted of chocolate, sweet, but also dark and decadent. And she wanted more.

  She moaned, wordlessly begging, and he answered her, his hand on the back of her head, tangling in her hair. He deepened the kiss, his tongue finding hers, sampling her, lost to anything but this moment and their desire. Until the squeal of a child seemed to snap them back to reality at the same time.

  They parted, both laughing sheepishly at how easily they’d forgotten where they were. And maybe at their intense reaction to each other and what should have been a simple, flrst kiss.

  “Perhaps we should go,” she said, knowing her cheeks had to be scarlet, even in the waning light.

  “Okay,” he agreed.

  He reached for her hand to help her up and neither released the other’s as they started back to the bed-and-breakfast, fingers linked.

  When they reached the inn and the door of Rocco’s room, Franny had a moment of doubt. So they’d kissed. Probably their passionate moment would end right there. Probably it should.

  But as she started to tug her fingers from his, he held her fast. His dark eyes searched hers and for a moment, she thought he was experiencing the same uncertainty.

  “Good night, Rocco.”

  He shook his head, offering her what she could only describe as a naughty little smile. A gorgeous, naughty little smile.

  He kissed her again and all thoughts of walking away vanished. He stopped only long enough to fumble with the room key, and then they were inside the room, fumbling with each other’s clothes.

  Soon they both stood naked in the center of the room. Franny would have thought she’d be shy in front of him. Rocco had been her dream, her ideal, for as long as she could remember. But she didn’t feel any bashfulness—any doubts. She’d waited so long for this very moment and she was far too busy admiring him to worry about her own nudity.

  She’d always found Rocco gorgeous, but the reality of the man was beyond any fantasy. Tall with broad shoulders and lean muscles rippling under golden skin. A smattering of dark hair on his chest that narrowed to bisect his hard, rippled stomach, then thickened again around his very, very impressive erection.

  Without any hesitation, she moved forward to touch him there, his penis pulsing at the brush of her fingertips. He gasped and she rose up on her toes to kiss him. Her hand still exploring his delicious body. The hard muscles of his back, his tight little rear end.

  When they parted again, his dark eyes were hooded, hungry. His own hands teased over her body, discovering her.

  “You are so beautiful,” he murmured as his hands moved her breast, his thumbs rubbing and circling her hardened nipples.

  She shivered. She felt beautiful.

  Then one hand slid lower, skimming over her belly to the apex of her thighs and then deeper still to where she literally ached for his touch.

  She dug her fingers into his shoulders, trying to anchor herself, her legs trembling as he stroked her. Driving her mad. His mouth returned to hers, his lips and fingers making love to her until she was moaning, and so, so close to release.

  Then both were gone.

  She whimpered, the sound one of frustration and despair.

  Rocco smiled at her and caught her hand. “I don’t want to do this standing. I want you under me, and I want to take my time figuring out exactly what will make your toes curl, make you cry out, and leave you so satisfied you can’t think.”

  She shivered again, her body so aware of him.

  “I want that, too,” she whispered, following him to the bed. “Very much.”

  Franny wasn’t sure how long he took doing exactly what he’d said, but one thing was for sure by the time he was through, her toes had indeed curled. She had cried out in ecstasy so many times she was sure her voice was hoarse. And her whole body was so sated that she felt like a very happy, very content puddle next to him.

  Rocco grinned at her, looking very content, too. He cuddled her close, his large hand idly stroking up and down her back.

  She yawned, not wanting to go to sleep, but unable to keep her eyes open.

  “Tired?”

  She nodded. “Yes, you know how to wear a girl out.”

  He chuckled, the sound low and rich and wonderful.

  “I actually imagined what sex with you would be like,” she said, realizing her drowsiness was making it too easy to make admissions.

  His hand stilled and she felt him lift his head to look at her, but she didn’t open her eyes. Sometimes admissions were easier in the dark.

  “I had such a crush on you.”

  “Really?”

  He seemed genuinely surprised, which made her smile.

  “Oh yeah.”

  She felt the pillow dip again as he laid his head back down, then his hand began rubbing her back again.

  He didn’t say anything more, and at the moment, she didn’t care. She was too blissful.

  Rocco ran his hand down Franny’s back, amazed how delicate she was, her back narrow, her skin baby smooth. She was pressed against him, both on their sides, their legs tangled.

  Her breathing had evened and she slept. But he couldn’t. He stroked her skin as if trying to memorize every nuance of her body. Her graceful shoulders, the jut of her collarbone, her pert little breasts with cherry nipples, the slight flare of her hips. The softness of her rounded little derriere. Her sweet lips. Her freckles.

  She’d had a crush on him. Damn, the things he’d missed.

  The sun rose, shining through the lace curtains, dappling her pale skin in warm light. Her hair gleamed, warm copper. She looked like an angel. Fallen to earth to give him peace. Finally.

  She stretched then, her moveme
nts languid and sensual.

  His body reacted instantly.

  She blinked at him, her expression still sleepy but quickly becoming aware.

  “Good morning,” she whispered, smiling her sweet smile.

  He answered her by pressing her back against the mattress and kissing her senseless.

  It was a long time before either spoke again.

  But this time there was no basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Just as Rocco would have fallen asleep, Franny levered herself upright.

  “What time is it?”

  Rocco glanced to the nightstand. The dials on the windup clock revealed it was a little after seven.

  “Early,” he murmured. “Come cuddle.”

  She groaned, swinging her long, shapely legs over the edge of the bed.

  “I can’t. I’m running late,” she said. “I need to get breakfast ready for the guests.”

  “Want help?” he asked, starting to get up, too, but she returned to the bed, placing her hands on his shoulders and pushing him back against the pillows. She kissed him quickly, slipping out of his reach before he could tug her back into bed.

  “You rest. I’m good.”

  He rolled on his side, enjoying the view as she dressed. She was truly the most stunning women he’d ever seen.

  How had he missed all this in high school? Oh the schoolboy fantasies he could conjure about her now.

  Once fully clad, she smiled. “Breakfast in twenty minutes. If you are still awake.”

  “I’d love to come help you.”

  “Nope.” She smiled impishly, then hurried out of the room.

  Rocco stared at the closed door for a moment, then fell back against the pillows.

  Damn, he had not expected his trip to Beals Point to turn out like this.

  THE rest of the day flew by for Franny. Between her usual work at the inn and preparing for the reunion, she was on the run.

  A few times, she did see Rocco and spoke with him briefly. She couldn’t help noticing he seemed distracted, and a little distant, but she refused to let herself worry. She would not overthink last night. She wanted him, and she wouldn’t allow herself to regret her actions. No matter the outcome. And she had no illusions about what the outcome would be. He was a successful writer with a life in New York City. She had a life here.

  A little pain tugged at her heart, but she pushed it aside.

  “No regrets.”

  By the time the reunion started, her conviction to remain calm about the previous night was wavering.

  She kept checking the door of the banquet hall, looking hopefully as every new person entered. But as of yet, Rocco hadn’t appeared.

  Finally about forty minutes after the reunion had started, he appeared looking utterly dashing in a tailored shirt and pants. He searched the room, seeking her out right away.

  “This turned out great,” he said as he walked up. He didn’t kiss her, but she hadn’t expected him to. But he did place a hand on the small of her back, the touch sending tingles right down to the soles of her feet.

  But his moment with her was short-lived. After all, he was pretty much their local celebrity and everyone wanted a chance to talk to him.

  Franny mingled, too, catching up with classmates she hadn’t seen in years. But even as she talked to this person and that, she seemed to sense where Rocco was in the large, crowded room. And he, too, seemed aware of her. Several times, they made eye contact, and the fact he seemed so in tune with her thrilled her.

  Just enjoy, she told herself. And she did.

  At around midnight, when the crowd had begun to thin and the party was winding down, Rocco flnally returned to her side.

  “Well, this was a success,” he said, handing her a glass of wine.

  She accepted it. Both of them watched the room, sipping their drinks.

  “Did you have fun?” she asked.

  “I actually did,” he said, giving her a surprised little smile.

  She laughed. “Well, good.”

  “But I can think of something that would be a lot more fun.”

  She didn’t need him to explain what or ask her twice. She placed her wineglass on the table next to them and said, “Well, let’s go, then.”

  Rocco laughed, clearly pleased by her eagerness.

  And her eagerness didn’t wane as they fell back into his bed. They spent all night, lost in each other and their passion.

  But once the sun rose, Franny woke up to flnd she was alone. And beside her a simple note in broad masculine handwriting.

  Thank you, Franny. Talk to you soon.

  Rocco

  She stared at the note, fighting the hurt, then pulled in a deep breath. She’d known he wouldn’t stay. She had known that.

  “IT seems you had quite the trip home.”

  Rocco stopped what he was doing to turn to his editor. Daniel leaned a hip on his desk, his arms crossed over his chest.

  “Yes, I did,” Rocco said.

  “The column is not what I expected of you, though.”

  “No. It wasn’t what I expected, either.”

  The men stared at each other for a moment. Then Daniel nodded. “Looks like your column is going to be changing a bit, huh?”

  Rocco smiled. “Yeah. I think my column is going to be changing quite a bit.”

  FRANNY straightened, stretching her stiff back, raising her face to the sun. It was a beautiful day, sunny, warm. A nice breeze off the ocean.

  She remained that way for a moment, focusing on those thoughts. She had to do that more often these days. Remember the good things.

  There was never any point in focusing on the negative. She’d learned that long ago. She sighed and returned to her weeding. Only the flowers that could survive the cold nights were blooming now. Rudbeckia, phlox, a few hardy geraniums.

  She plucked some of the stubborn dandelion greens that didn’t seem to notice the changing of the season, and her mind returned to its usual train of thought these days. Rocco.

  She understood he had to go, but she couldn’t help feeling hurt about how he left and that she’d heard nothing over the past few weeks. She’d considered contracting him but decided that would probably just magnify her sense of loss. Sometimes it was better to just leave things alone.

  So she rededicated herself to her life here. But it wasn’t easy.

  “No regrets,” she said aloud to herself. Her personal mantra these days.

  “No regrets about what?”

  Franny paused, thinking for a moment she must have imagined the voice behind her. She spun, half expecting to flnd herself alone in her backyard.

  But she wasn’t.

  Rocco stood there, a suitcase beside him. His dark eyes moving over her, unreadable.

  “Rocco. What—what are you doing here?” She didn’t dare hope it was to see her.

  “I need a room,” he said as if that would be the obvious reason.

  Her heart sank. He wasn’t here to see her specifically. She was silly to think he was. Rocco was a good guy, but he was a player, a dedicated bachelor, a city boy—and not the type to return to small-town Maine to date an old high school classmate.

  She had to remember that and just enjoy seeing him again.

  “Sure,” she said with a smile, the gesture feeling forced. She tugged off her gardening gloves and started across the lawn.

  Rocco fell into step beside her.

  “How many nights?” she asked, trying to sound casual. Like she was just chatting with any old guest.

  “Well, I’m not sure.”

  She stopped on the porch to frown at him. “Not sure?”

  He shook his head, giving her an uncertain smile, suddenly reminding of the boy she remembered from school.

  “You see, I’m looking for a place to rent, and it might take me a while.”

  “A place to rent?” She realized she sounded like she was completely addled. But at the moment, well, she was.

  He nodded. “So it might take a little tim
e. Can my checkout day be open-ended?”

  She nodded, too, not sure what to say. What did this mean? Was he staying here for good? Just for a while? She didn’t understand.

  Finally she decided just to ask. “Why are you back? Are you staying?”

  He shifted, looking down at his feet for a moment. “I was thinking about it.”

  Her heart jumped, but she wasn’t sure if it was out of excitement or fear.

  “Why?”

  He smiled, seeming to find the question amusing. “Because I realized I wanted to come home. Turns out there is a lot of good stuff here I missed the first time around.”

  Again her heart did a crazy somersault, but she didn’t say anything, afraid she was misreading what he was saying.

  He seemed to understand and added, “You see, I have a huge crush on this girl from my high school class, and I was hoping to see if she could have a crush on me.”

  Franny blinked, then hugged him. “I pretty sure she does.”

  Rocco kissed Franny, relieved and grateful she wanted to give him a chance. After all, she remembered the hurt, angry kid he’d been and she’d read about the adult he’d become, using his career and column to stay single and cut off from ever having to put himself out there and feel something real.

  But he wasn’t hiding anymore.

  Of course, he would have to admit he’d sort of lied to her just now—he definitely had more than a crush on this girl. He was falling in love with her.

  But he’d tell her that later. At this very moment, he was far too busy enjoying being home.

  Copyright Notices

  “Shelter from the Storm” by Lori Foster copyright © 2011 by Lori Foster.

  “Take Me Home” by Erin McCarthy copyright © 2011 by Erin McCarthy.

  “Razor’s Edge” by Sylvia Day copyright © 2011 by Sylvia Day.

  “Midnight Rendezvous” by Jamie Denton copyright © 2011 by Jamie Denton.

  “Dime Store Cowboy” by Kate Douglas copyright © 2011 by Kate Douglas.

  “Life in the Past Lane” by Kathy Love copyright © 2011 by Kathy Love.

 

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