Trail of Chances

by Merry Farmer

  “In fact, you might could say that we don’t act like most folks our age at all,” Pete went on.

  “You might just say that, yes.”

  They stopped in front of one of the doors, but Josephine’s inside felt as though they continued to move.

  “My room,” Pete said, eyes ablaze.

  “Oh?” How had they walked up to Pete’s hotel room when the intention was to escort her out of the hotel? It seemed only natural. Something magical was swirling around her, around both of them. One minute they’d been devastated by the loss of the children—a loss that was their own fault. The next they were grinning and leaning closer to each other. How had that happened? What had led from one thing to the next?

  The answer came to her like a cool breeze blowing across a fevered brow. Half an hour alone. Half an hour to think things through without distraction or pressure. Half an hour to open her heart and admit what she had known all along. Josephine promised to thank Estelle for her wisdom as soon as she had a chance.

  But first things first.

  “What I want to know,” Pete went on, slipping a hand around the side of her waist, “is that if we’ve done a few things that people our age wouldn’t usually do, do you think we might do others?”

  “Like what?” Her question came out more breathless than she’d intended.

  “Like getting over whatever fool notions we have about what folks our age should and shouldn’t do?” Pete asked.

  “But…we’re not young anymore.”

  Pete ignored her protest. “Like pretending we’re at the beginning of our journey instead of the end?”

  “You know, I think we might just be at the beginning of something.” Her heart hammered so hard against her chest that she felt dizzy. Good thing Pete had his arms around her to keep her from falling.

  “Like making our own rules instead of trying to follow someone else’s rules?” He leaned so close that she could smell the salt of his skin. “Those rules aren’t making me all that happy at the moment anyhow.”

  “Who needs rules?” She slid her arms around his back, digging her fingertips into his muscle—fine, strong muscle at that.

  “Not us,” Pete whispered, then captured her lips in a kiss.

  Chapter Eight

  Josephine had been kissed before, but at the moment she couldn’t remember when or by who or anything. She didn’t want to remember anything. As far as she was concerned, her past was a muddle of hesitation and chances not taken. But all that was about to change. She was going to take a chance, here and now.

  Pete broke their kiss, leaning back to stare at her with wonder in her eyes. “I do believe you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  Land sakes, the dear, sweet, passionate man actually seemed shy for a moment. Josephine rested her hand against the side of his face. “And you’re the most handsome, kind, virile male I’ve ever had the privilege to hold in my arms.”

  His brow quirked and his moustache twitched at the word ‘virile.’ “Miss Josephine, I do believe you just made an improper suggestion.”

  She loved the low hum to his voice, loved the way his arms stayed wrapped tightly around her, loved how he made her feel twenty years younger and as mischievous as a fox. “Was that a suggestion?” she asked, pressing the fingertips of her other hand into his back. “Because it was meant to be a straight-out invitation.”

  “Miss Josephine.” Pete growled her name in a tone that was split between mock surprise and hunger. He dipped down to kiss her again.

  Yes, they were too old—too old for coy, flirting kisses. Josephine knew what she wanted, and Pete was apparently willing to give it to her. He slipped his tongue along the seam of her lips, encouraging her to open to him. When she did, he explored her mouth boldly, his tongue dancing with hers in imitation of a far greater dance that was to come. Josephine responded with abandon. Maturity had its advantages. Not a soul in the world would scold or censure her for living her life with all the daring she desired.

  Well, perhaps some souls would object to wanton abandon. She eased away from Pete, keeping the fingers of one hand threaded through is hair. “Seems to me that we have a decision to make,” she panted. She could still taste him on her lips. Her whole being wanted more of that.

  “Decision?” Pete’s voice was low and gruff. He continued to hold her close.

  Josephine was suddenly aware of the evidence of his desire pressed against her waist. It filled her with energy and the most delicious feeling of wickedness she could have imagined. Spurred on by his reaction, she lowered her other hand to squeeze his backside.

  “We either need to say goodnight and go our separate ways,” she said, gaze dropping to his kiss-reddened lips, “or we need to move this interesting and exciting activity to the other side of that door so we can see where it leads.”

  Without a word and without hesitation, Pete stepped away from Josephine long enough to reach into his pocket and take out the key to his room. He fumbled, hands shaking slightly, as he fit the key into the lock and turned.

  As soon as he stepped into the room, Pete turned to take Josephine’s wrist and tug her in with him. He shut the door and locked it, then lifted Josephine half off her feet, pressing her back against the closed door. She hardly had time to think about his arms supporting her as she stood on tip-toe before his mouth came slanting down over hers. He kissed her with all the passion of a man who had longed to consummate the sparks between them for months. And heaven help her, she kissed him back with just as much longing. Why had they waited so long?

  “I love you, Josephine Lewis.” He left her lips long enough to rain kisses across her cheeks, her brow, and her nose. “I shoulda told you ages ago.”

  “Oh, Pete.” A thousand kinds of emotion welled up from Josephine’s gut, spinning her heart and her head. “I love you too. I have since the first moment I saw you.”

  “I know.” A deep laugh filled his voice. He still had her pressed against the door, perfectly helpless and barely grounded. He stroked one hand along her side, trailing up to cradle her breast. “I’ve wanted to love you for a long time.”

  Desire sizzled through her. His hand felt so amazing around her, even with all of her layers of clothing. She practically squirmed to get out of that clothing, though a large part of her mind couldn’t believe how wanton she felt.

  “I don’t think any man has ever wanted me like that before,” she sighed, tilting her lips up to his, inviting another kiss.

  “Well, they’re fools.” Pete obliged her silent plea, kissing her, but lighter this time. “You’re the most desirable woman I’ve ever seen.”

  “Even though I’m old?” she teased.

  “You’re not old,” he growled. “You’re seasoned, like prime firewood ready to burn.”

  Never had a comparison to wood felt so wicked or so true. Heaven help her, but she was about to burn up, inside and out. The feeling filled her with boldness and mischief. She reached a hand between the two of them, closing it over the front of his trousers.

  “Looks like I found a match,” she murmured, resting her head against the door and exposing more of her neck to him.

  The sound he made at her touch was enough to ignite the entire hotel. He surged into her, kissing her hard and lifting her clean off her feet. She barely had time to move her arms so that she clutched him around his middle as he ran a hand along her thigh, encouraging her to straddle him. It was difficult to do in skirts, but if she had her way, she’d be rid of those skirts in no time.

  As soon as she was off her feet, Pete pivoted and walked her to the bed. For one glorious moment, Josephine had images of him throwing her across the coverlet and taking her fully clothed, like a pirate in the night. She groaned with bliss at that image and pressed herself into his embrace. When he set her on her feet at the edge of the bed, she was momentarily disappointed that he would curtail his passion. But that only lasted until he tugged her blouse out from the waist of her skirt.

 
; “Say no now if you don’t want this, Josephine,” he whispered, hands spreading along the stiffness of her corset.

  “You fool man,” she chuckled. “Of course I want this. I’ve wanted this for months.”

  “Even though I’m old and grizzled?”

  She swatted his arm even as his hands moved to undo the buttons of her blouse. “If you try to tell me you’re old one more time…”

  Her protest faded away as he finished with the buttons and lifted her blouse over her head. As soon as he’d tossed it aside, he bent down to brush the tops of her breasts with kisses. The sensation was so enticing that she didn’t wait for him to continue undressing her. She reached back to undo her skirt and petticoat herself, letting them sag.

  “Let me see you,” he said, voice rich with wanting, and swayed back to undo her corset.

  It was just a simple corset, nothing fashionable, but that made it easier to remove. She pushed down her skirts and undid her drawers as he tugged her corset off and swept her chemise up over her head. Undressing became a blur until suddenly she was standing naked in front of him.

  His eyes swept over her with enough hunger to leave her weak in the knees. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

  Was she? She didn’t have a young woman’s body anymore. Some of her curves were rounder than they once were, and others weren’t as firm, but the way he looked at her, that didn’t matter. The number of years she’d been on the earth didn’t matter. She was a woman with all that meant, and the man standing in front of her looked as though he wanted to devour her whole.

  Pete moved toward her, but she held up a hand.

  “Fair’s fair, Peter Evans.” Her lips twitched with her teasing. “I’ve let you see me…” She let the second half of her sentence go unspoken as she nodded to him.

  He was still fully dressed, but heaven bless the man, he knew what her mischievous grin meant. “Is this what you want?” He took a large step back and began unbuttoning his vest and shirt. As he did, he toed off his boots and kicked them aside.

  Josephine had only enough sensible thought to push her clothes aside with one foot as Pete continued to undress. It was like watching someone unwrap a present designed especially for her. He took his time, peeling his vest and shirt off slowly. Josephine gasped for breath as he revealed a find, broad chest, as well-muscled as any man in his twenties. Yes, grey hair sprinkled across the hard lines of his chest, but Pete Evans was clearly a man who hadn’t let the years stop him from maintaining peek physical condition.

  His teasing display continued after he tossed his shirt aside. A deep trembling started in Josephine’s core as he unfastened his trousers as slowly as possible.

  “Now you’re just teasing,” she said, breathless with anticipation.

  “Yes, I am.” He winked, then pushed aside the front of his trousers.

  Josephine gulped as his manhood burst free. A fiery flash of desire pulsed through her at the sight of it, larger than she would have imagined and so firm. She barely noticed his powerful thighs and calves as he shucked his trousers and kicked them aside. All she cared about as he straightened, hands on his hips, displaying what God had given him as proudly as a young buck, was the potential in his upright staff. The tantalizing sack below it was fascinating as well, but the sole thought that remained in her head as everything else dissolved into emotion and desire was that she knew full well where that staff was supposed to go, and she couldn’t wait to get it there.

  “Old man my foot,” she murmured, swaying toward him.

  She’d lived through far too much experience in her forty years to hold back now. Biting her lip, she reached for him with both hands. Pete hummed, low and dangerous, as she closed gentle fingers around him. That hum reverberated in her center, building the urgent, liquid sensation between her legs. So much so that it was difficult to give her full concentration to exploring the length and girth of his manliness. He seemed to thrill to her every touch, sucking in a breath when she circled her fingers around the flared tip. That was a revelation. She had so much to learn about him…and a lifetime to do it.

  Exploring him wasn’t enough. She wanted to be touched and stroked and explored as well. Feeling bolder by the second, she stepped back, sitting on the edge of the bed, then pulling herself into the center, head near the pillows. Her heart sang with relief that she didn’t have to pretend to be a shy, young virgin—even though, come to think of it, she was a virgin. That hardly seemed to matter. Bold as tacks, she let her knees fall to the side and beckoned for Pete to come to her.

  He didn’t hesitate. Like a panther on the prowl, he climbed onto the bed and over top of her. She wriggled her hips, tilting them up in expectation of him joining with her. But instead, he ground his staff against the top of her thigh without sinking into anything. It was his hands and mouth that took her by surprise. His hands slid up her sides as he kissed her to distraction. One hand circled around her breast, kneading and teasing her nipple to a hard point. It felt so new and fantastic that she sighed with pleasure. Only, it was no ordinary sigh. It was a sound far too primal for such a dainty emotion. She liked it, reveled in it, and gave Pete more of it when he lightly pinched her nipple.

  “Pete—”

  She had no idea what she planned to ask him, but before any other words could form, he’d shifted to capture her other breast in his mouth. The sensation of him suckling and teasing her nipple with his teeth dragged another pleasured sound from her. It also punched the fire between her legs up to an inferno. An aching, urgent sensation began to build there that drowned out everything else.

  As if sensing that, he trailed his fingers down her stomach and through the thatch of curls above her mons. As his tongue teased her breast, his fingers searched through her hot, wet folds. A tremor of expectation pushed her closer to the edge as she realized he was intent on the secret spot she’d discovered to please herself years and years ago. But as he reached it, swirling his fingertips around the nub and causing lightning bolts of pleasure to course through her, she realized it was so, so much better when someone else struck that spark.

  No, not someone else, Pete.

  She came apart with a blossom of pleasure fiercer than anything she’d experienced in all her many years. Pete purred in victory, his fingers swiping lower to feel her tremors of pleasure. Then all at once, he shifted above her again, guiding himself right to her entrance. Before the blissful squeezing inside of her subsided, he slid himself home with a deep groan.

  His invasion only drew out the pleasure, and as he began to move inside of her—not particularly gently, but with utmost tenderness—she held onto him for dear life. Not only held him, but arched her hips and moved with him. If there was supposed to be pain, it never manifested. She was too old for pain anyhow, she thought with a laugh, but never too old for pleasure. She bucked and writhed to meet his thrusts, which were coming faster and harder with every second.

  And she loved it. She loved all of it, the fierceness, the abandon, the determination. But mostly she loved him. A second wave of intense pleasure swallowed her as he began to make desperate, earthy sounds above her. More sounds joined them—the straining of bedsprings, and a faint thumping as the bed hit the wall. It all made her want to laugh with delight, forever and ever.

  At last, Pete came apart with a guttural moan. Nothing had ever sounded so urgent or so sensual. It felt as though he gave his whole self to her, then collapsed in exhaustion, half on top of her. As far as Josephine was concerned, that was just fine. She loved everything about him, everything about what they’d just done. There was no way she would go a single day of her life from that point on without that bliss, without Pete in her life.

  After a few minutes had passed and they had both caught their breath, as they lay entwined in each other’s arms, stealing an occasional light kiss, Josephine said, “Well, that proves it.”

  “Proves what?” He smiled.

  “Proves that we’re damned fools who let ourselves get talked into t
hinking we’re older than we are.”

  “Yep.”

  Josephine chuckled. That was the Pete-est of Pete answers.

  “So I guess this means we’re getting married as soon as possible,” she went on.

  “Yep.” His answer was softer this time.

  Her heart swirled and danced with joy and with hope. “And first thing tomorrow morning, we’re going back to that Mrs. Fielding’s house and taking our children home.”

  “Absolutely.” His body firmed with resolution, and he kissed her soundly. “Those are our kids and always have been.”

  “They are.”

  She would deal with the guilt of thinking otherwise and make up to the Chance children for her horrible mistake as soon as she was able. The best excuse she could come up with was that her heart had to figure out first that it wasn’t as old as she had assumed, and second that she loved Pete, had since the moment she’d met him, and would until the day she died, and finally that they were all meant to be a family. Now she knew. Now everything was in order. Now she could begin the life she was always meant to have.

  The big, too-perfect house was spooky at night. Freddy knew he should have been grateful for a good meal and a soft bed all to himself. He knew it, but that wasn’t how he felt. He was scared. He wouldn’t admit he was scared, of course. Luke slept in a bed right next to his, but all of the other beds were empty. Like they’d barely been slept in at all. He shouldn’t be scared when all there was in the room was his big brother and a bunch of empty beds.

  He didn’t like that Muriel had been forced to sleep in the other room, all by herself. Mrs. Fielding had said that girls slept in the girls’ room, but that seemed stupid to Freddy when the only kids in the entire house were all Chances.

  Why were there no other kids in the house? There was a big playroom and a big dining room, but no other kids. Hadn’t Josephine said something about other kids to play with?