License to Love

by Barbara Boswell

  Those restless, suffocating feelings that had driven him out of Merlton resurfaced yet again. He wasn’t ready for the restrictive claustrophobia of family life, not yet! A night in Michelle Carey’s bed was not worth the marital life sentence it would cost him!

  Five

  February

  ‘The turn out tonight is fantastic,” Michelle remarked as she and the other Dineen staffers surveyed the well-dressed crowd packed into the Waterworks, the restored old building along the shore of the Susquehanna River. The Dineens had rented the place for tonight’s party.

  “Confidentially, I thought it was a bit sappy when Valerie picked Valentine’s Day to announce Ed’s plans to run for re-election,” said Leigh Wilson. “And when she suggested kicking off the campaign with a Valentine’s Day party fund-raiser, I cringed. Sending out invitations pasted on ted cut-out hearts strikes me as excessively comball.”

  “Well, everyone who was invited is here,” Michelle said with satisfaction.

  “At five hundred dollars a plate, it’s a nice boost to Ed’s war chest,” added Claire Collins.

  Leigh frowned. “I do wish Valerie had shown a little restraint with the decorations. There must be a billion candy hearts hanging on those mobiles dangling from the ceiling. Everybody has been commenting on them. It’s embarrassing.”

  “Valerie is very creative,” Michelle said loyally. “And I’ve heard nothing but compliments on those candy heart mobiles.”

  “Valerie Dineen could string dog biscuits and hang them from the ceiling and you’d approve, Michelle.” Leigh sighed exasperatedly. “You think everything she does is wonderful. If you’d be a little more objective you would see that she holds Ed back in many ways. She turns down almost all speaking invitations because she’s so bad at giving speeches, she still hasn’t lost all the weight she gained with the last baby and—”

  “She’s Ed’s wife,” Michelle cut in sharply. “She’s kind and shy and he adores her. If you’ll excuse me, I see someone I want to say hello to.”

  She didn’t, but she did want to get away from Leigh. Michelle crossed the room, disturbed by the other woman’s open, vitriolic critidsm of sweet Valerie Dineen. She was so preoccupied that she didn’t see the dark-suited figure step in front of her until she almost crashed headlong into him.

  “Whoa! Where’s the fire?” Steve Saraceni asked jocularly.

  “Oh, I’m terribly sorry. I’m afraid I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Michelle was proud of the smooth steadiness of her voice and the impersonal pleasantry of her smile. Steve Saraceni would never know that her heart had leapt into her throat at the sight of him and her stomach was still doing flips.

  She was annoyed by her acute reaction to him. It had been three weeks since the blizzard had forced them to hole up in her apartment and she hadn’t heard a word from him since. Not that she’d expected to, Michelle continually reminded herself. Yet for days after the storm she’d waited in a state of heightened anticipation for him to call. When he did not, an aching disappointment nagged at her. That, too, had worn off as she’d accepted what she should have realized from the very beginning. The wintry weekend of conversation and closeness meant nothing to Steve. He’d undoubtedly forgotten it—and her—as soon as he’d left her apartment.

  She moved to pass him, but he stepped to the side, blocking her way. “You look great tonight, Michelle,” he said, his dark eyes sparkling with admiration. “Red is definitely your color.”

  “Valerie Dineen asked all the staff to wear some shade of red in keeping with the Valentine’s Day theme of the party,” Michelle said coolly. She’d had to buy her strawberry-red knit sweater and matching pleated skirt because she had never owned anything red. She’d always considered the color too bright for her tastes.

  “I was pleased to receive an invitation to the party tonight,” said Steve, sounding credibly sincere. “I like Ed Dineen and Legislative Engineers was delighted to contribute to his campaign.”

  As a member of the senator’s staff, Michelle said what she would say to any contributor. “I’m sure Senator Dineen appreciates your support.”

  Steve smiled. “Ed’s a great guy. I met him a couple of weeks ago and we’ve had lunch together.”

  “Yes, I know. Ed was terribly pleased when you recognized him as a Penn State basketball star,” Michelle said dryly. She was certain that the “accidental” meeting on the Capitol stairs between Steve and Ed Dineen had been premeditated and carefully arranged on Steve’s part.

  But she’d been disturbed to learn that Steve had made use of the information about Ed’s college basketball career, facts she had provided during their weekend together. Being Steve, he’d used them well, to gain access to the senator. Now, having been subjected to the full force of the Saraceni charm, Ed Dineen was quite favorably disposed to the lobbyist.

  Perhaps she was being too sensitive but Michelle felt somewhat used. She was undecided as to whether Steve Saraceni’s operating methods were sneaky and underhanded or deft and skillful. She couldn’t trust her own judgment where he was concerned and that concerned her.

  Michelle glanced purposefully at her watch. “I’ve got to run. It was so nice seeing you again.” Her tone and expression were blatantly insincere. She swiftly fled to the cloakroom.

  “Leaving so soon?”

  Michelle didn’t bother to turn around. She knew it was Steve who was suddenly a few steps behind her. And then by her side.

  “There’s no need for me to stay any longer,” she said crisply. “I’ve put in an appearance here. Ed is busy working the room and my presence isn’t required.”

  “Do you have a date lined up after this?” Steve pressed.

  “Of course not,” she said incredulously. “It’s a Wednesday night.” Weekend dates were enough of a rarity for her; weeknight dates were inconceivable.

  “It’s not such a preposterous question. It is Valentine’s Day,” Steve reminded her.

  “Yes, it is. And naturally, this is a big holiday for you, isn’t it? I’m sure you singlehandedly boost sales of cards, flowers and candy on this day. After all, you have valentines in four cities.”

  Steve smiled, his credo being: when in doubt, smile. He also ignored her jibe and laid his hand on her shoulder. “Well, since neither of us have dates tonight, why don’t we go somewhere and have a drink together?”

  Michelle didn’t miss a beat. “No, thank you.” She hurried away from him, shoving her coat claim check into the hands of the checker.

  Steve followed her, his smile still in place. “Why not?” His voice lowered and turned coaxing. “I thought we were pals, Michelle.”

  Michelle received her coat and quickly slipped it on, resisting his attempt to help her. “You’re mistaken,” she said sweetly as she headed to the door. “We’re not pals. Good night, Steve.”

  Steve stared after her. He realized that his jaw was agape and quickly closed his mouth. It was extraordinarily difficult to put his smile back in place. Michelle had given him the brush-off as he’d never received it before.

  Back at her apartment, Michelle had just settled down on the couch with Burton purring on her lap when her doorbell sounded. A glance through the peephole revealed a most unexpected sight—Steve Saraceni, holding a big red heart-shaped box that just had to contain chocolates.

  Michelle opened the door, laughing. “You’ve got to be kidding!”

  Steve cleared his throat. Laughter, he hadn’t expected. “I wanted to give this to you,” he said, an uncharacteristic note of uncertainty in his voice. He put the box of candy into her arms.

  Michelle looked from it to him. “Do you buy these things wholesale, by the gross? And keep them handily stashed in your car for whenever you run across a prospective valentine?”

  Steve grimaced. “I did buy a number of them but not for the reasons you think. I pass out candy to the secretaries and receptionists in the various House and Senate offices every year—it’s the only Valentine some of them receive. And
you can’t accuse me of romancing every secretary in the Capitol. Think how many are married, how many are older. It’s business, that’s all.”

  “I see. You give candy to the secretaries and they make it easier for you to get in to see their bosses. Whatever it takes to do the job, hmm?”

  “Access is the name of the game,” Steve affirmed.

  “And you can even write off the cost of all the candy because it’s business. Just one question though. How come you gave a heart to me? Does this mean I’m included in your Valentine’s Day tax break?”

  “That’s two questions,” Steve corrected silkily. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, which were pensive and wary. What was he doing here? He had no answer; he’d followed her home impulsively, not allowing himself to think at all, only to act. But he had to admit that giving her the candy had been an inordinately stupid move. Michelle was too bright to be taken in by such a blatant last-minute gesture.

  Michelle shrugged. “Well, thanks for the candy.” She refused to tell him that it happened to be the only Valentine she’d received. She did not want to be on his access-via-pity list every year. “I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.” She started to close the door____

  Steve wedged his shoulder inside, blocking it open. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

  “Sorry. It’s not snowing and the electricity is on tonight.”

  “And the only way I get invited in is if there’s a blizzard raging and the power is out, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  He heaved a groan mingled with a sigh. “Ah, Michelle, don’t be this way. We had a great time together. Why can’t we—”

  “—Pick up where we left off?” Michelle inserted with saccharine sweetness. “Three weeks ago?"

  “It’s been that long?” He sounded genuinely surprised. “I’ve been really busy—went to the Super Bowl one weekend and—”

  “Steve, you don’t owe me any explanations,” she cut in coolly. “In fact, I don’t care to hear them. I was simply pointing out that when three weeks pass without a single word, you can’t expect to—”

  “It’s not that I wasn’t thinking of you,” Steve blurted out.

  “Oh, I’m sure you thought about me just as often as I thought about you,” Michelle said caustically, pleased with the effects of ter tone. She sounded cool and flip, as if the thought of him hadn’t crossed her mind once for the past three weeks. She wasn’t about to inform him otherwise.

  Steve frowned slightly. The truth was that he had thought about her, entirely too much. That had scared him enough into deliberately keeping away from her. Nevertheless he would find himself thinking of her at odd, unguarded moments, wanting to discuss a bit of news with her, to share a joke. It wasn’t a good sign. He knew the words to The Tender Trap; his father, a Sinatra fan, had played it often enough over the years. What Steve did not want was to find himself living the lyrics.

  “Good night, Steve,” Michelle said firmly. She would’ve closed the door to accentuate her point, but didn’t as he remained stubbornly wedged in the door frame. There was really no need to bloody him.

  He should leave; she clearly wanted him to. Steve had no idea what kept him rooted to the spot, but he didn’t budge. “You’re the unfriendliest woman I’ve ever known,” he accused.

  Michelle thought about all those other women he knew, who undoubtedly qualified as ultra friendly—and then some. Her blue eyes flashed. “Coming from you, that’s a compliment.”

  “This is ridiculous!” Steve growled. His cool was definitely beginning to melt. The woman mocked him, quarreled with him, infuriated him. “I don’t need this. What am I doing here?”

  He was speaking more or less rhetorically but Michelle chose to reply mockingly, “You’re trying to pawn off your leftover candy on me in an attempt—a futile one as far as I’m concerned—to gain access to Ed Dineen. That’s what you’re doing here.”

  Anger surged through him like a burst of adrenaline. “That’s it!” he spat. He fully intended to stalk out. When it came to the fight-or-flight alternative, he always opted for the convenient “I’m out of here” course of action.

  But tonight he seemed to be operating under different guidelines. He surprised himself almost as much as her when he caught her arms and yanked her against him. “You’re impossible,” he snarled. “You drive me nuts!”

  The box of candy slipped from her nerveless fingers and hit the floor. Neither noticed. Their eyes were locked, his dark and fiery, hers startled and wide.

  And before Michelle could think, move or breathe, his mouth was opening over hers in a hard, hungry kiss. She struggled, she tried to twist her mouth free, to no avail. Steve kept her pinned firmly against him, his arms wrapped around her as strong as steel bands, his thighs trapping hers, while his mouth plundered her own.

  Michelle’s mind spun out of control as pleasure exploded within her like a fireball. She wasn’t sure when or how, but somewhere along the line she stopped fighting and her emotions took over, responding to the powerful chemistry sizzling between them.

  She arched against him, her arms locked around his neck, as he took her mouth deeply over and over again. Her breasts swelled sensuously against the hardness of his chest and she was achingly aware of the burgeoning heat of his thighs pressing into her, tight and hard and close. But not close enough.

  Governed by pure instinct, Michelle writhed in his arms, striving to get closer still. A primal feminine need to envelope him and absorb him into her very being surged through her with shattering force.

  Their kisses grew longer and hotter and wilder. Michelle’s hands roamed over the hard male strength of his back and shoulders. She’d never dreamed there could be so much pleasure in caressing. It was almost as exciting and arousing as being caressed.

  Almost. Could there ever be anything as thrilling as the feel of his big hands slipping beneath her sweater to cup the soft fullness of her breasts? His fingers kneaded her sensuously, until her nipples were tautly erect against the lacy fabric of her brassiere. He slowly, deftly, flicked his thumbs over them, moving up and down, back and forth, making her moan and twist with need.

  His hands on her breasts, his mouth never leaving hers, Steve slowly began to inch away from the door and into the room. Both were so absorbed in each other that Burton the cat crept unnoticed to stare curiously out the slightly opened door into the intriguing hall beyond. Carefully winding his way around their legs, he let out a triumphant meow as he successfully navigated his escape to freedom.

  The sound’s effect on Michelle was instantaneous. She pulled out of Steve’s arms and flung the door open wide in time to see Burton racing down the hall. “Oh no! Burton, come back!” Her cry of distress echoed in the corridor as she went chasing after the cat.

  Steve stared blindly ahead, feeling dazed and disoriented. One moment he had been holding her, kissing her, and suddenly he was left standing there alone, remembering the sweet hot taste of her mouth, the rounded softness of her breasts in his hands. His blood pulsed heavily. Every heartbeat made him throb with a desire and need that was painfully slow to subside.

  It took several moments for him to shake off the impact of that potent languorous fog. Finally, heaving a sigh, he followed Michelle to the far end of the hall, catching up with her in the open stairwell.

  “I don’t know which way he went!” she cried, standing on the landing, looking first up and then down. “He won’t come when I call him. He’s so wound up. This is the first time he’s ever been out of the apartment alone.”

  Steve stared at her. He was astonished to see that she was genuinely distraught. Her china blue eyes were swimming with unshed tears and she was visibly trembling. “Hey, he’ll come back when he’s ready,” he soothed. “You know how cats are—they come and go as they please.”

  “No.” Michelle shook her head, her voice choked. “Burton doesn’t know his way around. I have to find him before he gets out of the building or he’ll be hopelessly lost.” She start
ed to run up the stairs, then paused. “Will you help me find him, Steve?”

  She was so agitated her voice was quavering. Steve was puzzled. Nothing in his experience warranted becoming upset because a cat had slipped out an open door. The Saraceni family had been letting their many cats in and out for years without a single bout of hysteria.

  “Please!” cried Michelle. “I’ll look on the third and fourth floors, if you’ll take the first floor and the basement. And if the door to the building is open—”

  “I’ll close it,” Steve finished for her. “Michelle, stop worrying. We’ll find him.” But she was already gone, presumably racing along the third-floor corridor in search of the runaway feline. Steve made his way to the first floor, shaking his head. Michelle was as high strung as her cat!

  Although he felt no urgency, he checked the first floor of the building, and finding no sign of the cat, proceeded to the vestibule where he saw the front door swing closed. Obviously someone had just left the building.

  Steve frowned. Had the cat taken advantage to zoom outside? He pushed the door open and called tentatively, “Here kitty, kitty,” in what he hoped was a feline-enticing voice. He decided he sounded exceedingly foolish and didn’t blame Burton for not responding. What self-respecting cat would?

  “I checked the top floors and there was no sign of him.” Michelle appeared by his side, her face pale, her voice frantic with worry. “Did he get out? He’s never been outside before—only in his cat carrier when I take him to and from the car. He doesn’t know about traffic or—”

  “Michelle, calm down. He probably isn’t outside and even if he is—”

  “I’ve had him for almost three years.” Michelle was crying now, tears streaming down her cheeks faster than she could wipe them away. “I got him when he was just six weeks old. I had to economize to afford him but I wanted him so much. I love cats and Burton is... he—he’s special. If something happens to him, I—”

  “Nothing is going to happen to him,” Steve said firmly. But her anxiety was beginning to affect him. He was starting to feel slightly worried about the cat’s whereabouts himself although he didn’t dare let on. “Michelle, I’m going to search the basement and while I’m doing that, you go up to your apartment and put the cat’s box outside your front door. Since he doesn’t have any familiar scents around the building to guide him home, we’ll provide him with one—his box.”