“Again,” she begged, twisting to offer him her other breast.
He obliged, and Charlie pulled him up to thank him with a kiss that had him rock hard against her. She reached down to unbuckle his belt but he was already sliding down her body, using his tongue to trace a line down to the top of her jeans. As he unsnapped and unzipped, she raised her hips to wriggle out of the impeding denim and cotton. She toed off her sneakers, and he pulled her pants down and off her ankles, then crouched over her and ran his lips up the inside of her leg and thigh.
She was so ready to feel his mouth between her legs that she almost wept when he moved to her other thigh and down. Her hands fisted in the blankets and her toes curled into the pad as he moved upward again, the flannel of his open shirt brushing her sensitized skin and adding more delicious torment to his slow journey.
“Oh, Rhett!” she moaned.
He laughed, and the sound and breath of it vibrated against her just before his tongue touched right where she most wanted it. She tilted her hips to give him better access, but he kept right on stroking her toward her climax in his own agonizingly slow, absolutely wonderful rhythm.
As she reached that moment of suspension when all sensation was focused in the pool of heat between her thighs, before the ripple of release began to spread outward, he drew away to unfasten his own jeans. Then as she felt the first clench of orgasm, he slid inside her, instantly triggering another spasm so hard that she dug her fingernails into his shoulders. He moved again, and she locked her legs around his waist to keep him there while she came over and over until her muscles quivered with exhaustion. His own release was a rush of warmth inside her, causing an echoing tremor in her belly.
She let her arms and legs sprawl across the sleeping bag, still enjoying the scrape of denim and flannel against her bare skin and the weight and warmth of him between her thighs and on her breasts.
“I'll overlook you calling me 'Rhett' just this once,” Jack said, propping himself up on his elbows to look down at her.
“You know it was your own fault,” she said, smiling up at him. “You were deliberately torturing me.”
Then she closed her eyes and wriggled slightly under him. “God, I feel good.”
“You certainly do,” he agreed, cupping her bare breast.
“Do your worst. I can't move,” she claimed.
“You're a liar, sweetheart. I felt your hips tilt up just now.”
“It was involuntary muscle movement, like when chickens run around with their heads cut off.”
That warm, honeyed chuckle poured into the night and Charlie chuckled back. Her laughter turned to an “oh” of deprivation when he pushed away and stood up.
“If you could see yourself…” he said, staring down at her for a long moment before raising his face to the sky.
“If I could see myself what?” she wanted to know, enjoying in equal parts the shock of cold air on her heated skin and the knowledge that he still wanted her.
“Don't fish, sugar, and put some clothes on before you catch your death.”
He flicked her jeans toward her with the toe of his boot.
The darkness covered any awkwardness she might feel about dressing in front of him, but Jack kept his back politely turned. Dressed, she stood up and wrapped her arms around him from behind, burying her nose in his back and inhaling the scent of man and shirt and outdoors.
“Ummm, you smell good.”
He laughed. “In your current mood, everything is good.”
“Thanks to you,” Charlie murmured. She felt a sudden stiffening in his back and shoulders.
“You give me too much credit.” He laced his fingers with hers and gently pulled her hands away from his waist. Turning, he kissed first one of her palms and then the other before releasing them. “You provided all the inspiration.”
“Still, you can consider your debt paid,” she said, stung by his smooth but obvious withdrawal. He had started this.
“Glad to hear it.” He stood three feet away in the darkness so she couldn't read his expression.
She squinted up at the sky, only to find the heavens as inscrutable as her companion. “Is the meteorite shower over?” she asked.
“No, it's just passed its peak. From now on, you'll see only occasional activity.”
Charlie wondered if his statement applied to more than the sky.
“Why don't we pack up and head back?” he said, bending over and starting to roll up a blanket.
“Avoiding temptation?”
“You got it, sugar. Temptation with a capital T.”
She noticed that he had given up his attempt at neatness and was simply stuffing the wadded-up blanket into a backpack. She smirked into the darkness as she deftly rolled her own blankets and mat into a tidy bundle. Inspiration or temptation, either one meant he was more affected than he wanted to admit.
Jack was thinking exactly the same thing.
***
They slept, they loaded the car, they drove halfway back to New Jersey, all as if they had never touched each other. Charlie couldn't stand it any longer.
“You know, I'm all for keeping this 'partnership' businesslike, but I'm not sure I can just forget what happened this weekend.”
“Forget it?” He laughed. “I'm not going to forget it for a very long time. I'm just going to put it behind me and get back to the original intent of our arrangement.”
She frowned. He seemed much too confident in his ability to do that.
“Face it, Charlie. Put a man and a woman together out in the woods, and they start to feel like they're in the Garden of Eden.” He shrugged. “There's nothing surprising about it, and now we've gotten it out of our systems.”
Charlie didn't particularly care to be cast as Eve. “You're right,” she said. “It was just the excitement of seeing fire blazing across the sky that got me all hot and bothered. Any man who had been there would have gotten the same reaction. Maybe even a woman.”
He had been looking like a thundercloud, but her last comment cleared the storm and made him smile. “A dose of my own medicine, eh? Be careful what you suggest.”
“I thought we were being strictly business from now on,” she pointed out.
“We sure as hell are,” he agreed, but he sounded as though he was reminding himself.
***
“This is where you list your assets and liabilities and your income,” Charlie said, passing the forms to Jack. She tried not to touch him as he sat beside her on her couch.
His focus seemed entirely on the paperwork. “I'll fill this out in New York where my records are.” He gestured toward a pile of papers on the table. “What are those?”
“Proof of citizenship, INS forms, birth certificate, criminal record, fingerprints, etc. They don't require any thought, just filling out, notarizing and sending in. Those are the easy ones,” she laughed.
He didn't smile.
“Is there a problem?” she asked. Maybe in all his international travels, he had done something to annoy the INS? Or maybe Isabelle was right: he had murdered his first three wives.
“No, no problem. I had no idea there was so much red tape involved in adopting from China.”
“Now you see why I didn't want to wait any longer for my home study approval. It will be another six months after it's done before I can bring home my baby.”
“You have a pretty nice life here.” He waved a hand around her living room. “Why are you so eager to have a child who will gum up the works?”
“I have a pretty lonely life,” Charlie said quietly. “I grew up without a permanent family. I don't want to live that way any longer. And since I can't have a family in the usual way, I'm going to create one.”
“You've already done that with your neighbors. They think very highly of you.”
“The ties aren't the same. They'll move. Or die.”
“We're all going to die, sooner or later.”
She made no response so he gathered up all the documents and
tapped them into a neat pile. “I'll have these done for you by the end of this week.”
“Then I'll call Rhonda Brown and guilt her into an appointment for the following week.”
He picked up the garment bag with his wedding suit in it. Charlie went with him to the door. “Call me if you have any questions about any of those forms.”
“I will.” Taking her chin in his hand, he looked down at her and said, “Watching the Lyrids will never be the same again.”
Then he straightened and walked out into the dusk.
Ten
“Charlie, this is Rhonda Brown. I'm sorry to call so late and on a Sunday, but I have an emergency situation I need help with. Can I come over and talk with you in person?”
“Of course. I'll be here.”
What on earth could Rhonda Brown need my help with?
Charlie fixed some coffee and put leftover wedding hors d'oeuvres on a plate before the doorbell rang. Rhonda swept into the room with the same majesty she had displayed on her first visit. Tonight she was dressed in a swirling purple shift that matched the heavy amethyst-and-silver necklace around her neck. When she saw the coffee, she took a mug, and buried her nose in it, saying, “I need this desperately.”
“Bad day?” Charlie said, offering her the plate of food.
“I left Brooklyn to get away from this sort of day,” her guest said, eating a miniature quiche with a sigh of pleasure. “Thank you.”
“You're welcome. Would you like something more substantial, like a sandwich?”
Rhonda sat back on the couch with the coffee mug cradled in her hands. “No, thanks. I don't have much time. I just came from the police station in Atlantic City.”
“That doesn't sound good.”
“A young woman from Tennessee who came to live here about a year ago was murdered early this morning.”
“I'm sorry to hear that.”
“She has a nine-year-old daughter. We can't locate a father or any relatives here. And so far we haven't been able to reach anyone in Tennessee either.” Now Rhonda sat forward and looked straight at Charlie. “I don't want this little girl to go into the foster care system. I think we can find a family member who will want her, but it may take some time. You know what it's like to be an orphan, and you're prepared to adopt a child. Would you take her in until I can find the right person?”
Charlie put her mug down with a thud. “I-I guess so.”
“I could get into a hell of a lot of trouble for not putting her in a certified foster home,” Rhonda said, “but I think you could make a difference for this little girl. She's as cute as a button, has a southern twang, and says, 'yes, ma'am' every other sentence. Her mother raised her right.”
“Do you know why the mother was murdered?” Charlie asked.
“She was working as a prostitute and a john got violent,” Rhonda said, looking grim. “I hate those damned casinos. They don't do anyone any good.” She shook her head. “Evidently, she rented an apartment in Bellefont because the schools were good, and she didn't want her daughter anywhere near what she did for a living.”
“Of course I'll take the child,” Charlie said, with a conviction she was genuinely beginning to feel. “What's her name?”
“Sallyanne McGraw.”
“Where is she now?”
“With a neighbor. I'll go pick her up and bring her here.”
“Shouldn't I go with you?” Charlie said, rising too.
“No. You get her room ready, and think about what you want to say to her. I'll tell her a little bit about you.”
“Any suggestions?”
“I think you'll figure it out.” Rhonda had reached the door, and paused as she opened it. “You're a smart lady, and you have good instincts. I'll be back in under an hour.”
“Right.” Charlie closed the door after her, and turned around to lean against it.
She needed to get the guest room ready. She wanted to bake some chocolate chip cookies. She had to make a nine-year-old girl whose mother had just died a violent death feel welcome in a strange house. How exactly did one do that?
Major came over and pushed his nose into her hand. She stroked him a couple of times and said, “You're great with cats. How are you with children?” She pushed off from the door and headed upstairs to make the guest room look inviting.
Flowered sheets and a patchwork comforter brightened the bed. A friend had given her two Beanie Babies as a joke; they went on top of the quilt. She hung yellow and white striped towels in the bathroom and unwrapped a lilac-scented cake of soap someone had given her as a houseguest present. Somewhere in her attic was a set of the Chronicles of Narnia but she didn't have time to dig them out.
That would have to wait for tomorrow.
Checking her watch, she dashed downstairs to the kitchen and started whipping up a batch of chocolate chip cookies. They wouldn't be ready to eat but the smell should make a child feel more at home. She had just pulled the first tray out of the oven to cool when the doorbell rang again.
She took a deep breath and opened the door.
Standing beside Rhonda was a small girl with blond pigtails and blue eyes. A pink plastic purse hung from her shoulder, and Rhonda held a small suitcase in her hand. Charlie got down on one knee and offered her hand to the child. “Hi, I'm Charlie. It's nice to meet you, Sallyanne.”
“Hello, Miz Charlie,” the child said, shaking hands gravely.
Charlie reached up and lightly stroked the little girl's pigtail. “Just 'Charlie' is fine. Come in.”
Rhonda stepped forward but Sallyanne stood still. “Charlie is a boy's name.”
“My real name is Charlotte, but everyone calls me 'Charlie'. I have some chocolate chip cookies cooling. I baked them especially for you.”
“Mama and I bake cookies together,” Sallyanne said. “We make the best cookies of anyone.”
Charlie could see the exact moment Sallyanne remembered she and her mama wouldn't be baking cookies together anymore. She swept the little girl into her arms and hugged her close. “Well, maybe you can show me how you did it.” The little body was stiff in her arms, but Charlie held on until Sallyanne relaxed and put her head on Charlie's shoulder just for a second. It was enough. When she pulled away, Charlie let her go.
They eyed each other, and then Sallyanne stepped past Charlie into the house.
And screamed.
“What is it? What's wrong?” Charlie asked, racing after her.
Sallyanne stood frozen two feet from Major.
“Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry. That's just my dog Major. He's as gentle as a lamb.”
“I'm allergic to dogs,” the little girl announced in a trembling voice.
“Oh dear. Well, then Major will have to go live somewhere else for a while. In the meantime, I'll shut him up in my office,” Charlie said, grabbing the dog's collar and leading him up the stairs.
“Are you allergic to cats too?” she asked when she returned to the living room. Twinkle had bolted as soon as she heard voices, but Charlie wanted to avert any more drama from Sallyanne's day.
“No, ma'am. They're little and soft, and they don't bite.”
“Ah, I see,” Charlie said. “Would you like to come with me to the kitchen, and we'll take the cookies off the cookie sheet and put some more in to bake?”
Rhonda nodded her approval and sat down on the couch. “I'll just sit here a little while and read the paper.”
“Thanks,” Charlie mouthed and took Sallyanne into the kitchen.
Sallyanne wasn't boasting when she said she knew how to bake cookies. Even though the first batch had cooled so much they stuck to the pan, the girl expertly wedged the spatula under a cookie and carefully separated it from the metal.
“Wow, you're really good at that,” Charlie said with honest admiration. “I would have broken that into at least three pieces.”
Sallyanne smiled a tiny, tentative smile.
“Thank you, ma' am,” she said before returning to her task.
When the cookies, all intact, had been arranged on the Noah's Ark plate, Charlie handed Sallyanne the cookie dough and a clean cookie sheet. The young chef carefully spooned the proper-sized mounds of dough onto the pan and handed it back.
“We may have to go into competition with Mrs. Field's,” Charlie said as she put the second batch in the oven. “Why don't you invite Rhonda in to eat some?”
They all sat down to milk and cookies at Charlie's kitchen table, the scent of baking enveloping them. And Charlie was happy. She berated herself for the sudden flood of joy that flowed through her because it sprang from a little girl's terrible misfortune. But having a child sitting at her kitchen table felt so good she had to hide a smile behind her milk glass.
In the last few hours, Rhonda had become family too.
She had come to Charlie when she needed someone to take care of a child. She had even broken the rules to do it. Charlie wanted to reach over and take her hand but restrained herself. “Oh my gosh,” she exclaimed suddenly. “Rhonda, I completely forgot to tell you. I got married on Friday.”
“Wasn't that rather sudden?” Rhonda asked as she arched a skeptical eyebrow. “And where's the lucky man?”
“He had to go to New York on business. He's Jack Lanett, the meteorite hunter who found the Mars rock.”
“I've read about him.”
“It wasn't really sudden. We've been&helip;involved for several years, but we both traveled so much we never made the relationship more formal.”
“What changed your minds?”
“He's retiring after he auctions off the Mars rock. And I'm staying home for…” she glanced at Sallyanne, then said vaguely, “reasons you already know. We had always planned to get married when our circumstances were more settled, and we decided to go ahead with the wedding now so we could be together for the Chinese, um, situation.”
Rhonda looked dubious.
“We had the most marvelous honeymoon in the Poconos.”
“Don't overdo your story. I can't see you in a heart-shaped tub.”
“Not that sort of place,” Charlie said, laughing. “We went to a cabin out in the woods and spent two nights under the stars, watching the Lyrid meteor shower.” Turning to Sallyanne, she said, “We even saw a fireball,” and explained the phenomenon to her guests. They both had questions, and Charlie spent a half an hour fascinating them by describing the shower of stars she and Jack had witnessed.
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