He laughed. “I bet you’re a force to contend with.”
“I’m losing that edge,” she said. “When I was younger, I had a fighting spirit. I was essentially a single mother working very hard for a modest salary, devoting myself to the education of teenagers who, by definition, make you want to commit murder. Hmm, maybe that’s what gave me the inspiration to deal with so many dead bodies.” She chuckled and took a bite of her chicken. “Oh, Sully, this is brilliant, this chicken. It’s perfect!”
“I can turn meat on the grill,” he said. “But I’m mostly lucky.”
“I never even thought of dessert,” she said apologetically. “I usually skip dessert and it never occurred to me.”
“I have my dessert in a glass,” he said. “I have a whiskey before bed.”
“Perfect,” she said. “Do you have any thick, sweet liqueur? Like Amaretto? Or Frangelico?”
“I haven’t the first idea. After dinner we’ll walk over to the store, sneak in the back door and check the bar stock. If we don’t have your brand on hand, I’ll get it on my next run to town.”
“You’re turning out to be a very good friend,” she said. “Accommodating.”
“I aim to please,” he said.
They washed up the dishes together before their drinks; they did find a little Grand Marnier for Helen. She put an ice cube in just a splash of liqueur and they took their drinks back to his front porch and talked awhile longer. Sully wanted to hear about her travels and what compelled her to visit foreign lands. She admitted it was curiosity and asked if he had traveled much.
“I’m pretty familiar with Vietnam,” he told her.
He got the impression she was footloose and fancy-free while his roots in Sullivan’s Crossing went deep. “Now family holds me,” he says.
It was nine before she looked at her watch and said, “I’ve kept you up past your bedtime.”
“If I hadn’t wanted to stay up, you’d have known it,” he said.
“I think it’s time for me to get home. I’ve given Leigh and Rob enough privacy, I think.”
“I’ll walk you to the car.”
Braving rejection, he grabbed her hand as he walked with her down the porch steps and to her car, and she didn’t pull away. Standing beside the driver’s door, he put his hands on her shoulders. “Thank you for dinner,” he said. “I like the time we spend together.”
“So do I, Sully.”
“You’re an awful pretty lady,” he said.
“You’re a handsome man,” she said.
“And you have such an imagination. In all things.”
She laughed. But then she leaned toward him and pressed a small kiss on his lips.
He was taken by complete surprise and was frozen in place. Finally he said, “You gonna write tomorrow?”
“I write every day, Sully. Are you saying your porch is available?”
“For you,” he said, nodding.
She reached into her duffel and pulled out a copy of her book The Dark End of the Beach. It was an eerie-looking cover—black rocks and sand and blue water. “Good God, woman. I might have to read in daylight!”
She laughed and touched his cheek. “I’ll protect you,” she said. Then she slid into her car.
* * *
Leigh had spent an entire afternoon on the internet, trying to find a recipe she could manage. Make that manage to not screw up. Video instructions helped. She finally settled on a chicken enchilada casserole done in the slow cooker. She vaguely remembered something like that from her college days—one of her girlfriends used to make it. She threw together a salad and bought a cheesecake.
Then, since Helen wasn’t going to be there for dinner, Leigh took a long soak, shaved above the knees, gave herself a pedicure, set the table and ended up ready an hour early. From the way Rob kissed her on their date last weekend, she had a pretty good idea he was angling for sex. She thought she really shouldn’t. Though she’d known him for nearly a year, they’d only had what she could call a relationship for a short time. And how much time is actually required?
Finally there was a knock at the door, and when she opened it, there he stood with a bottle of wine and a fistful of flowers. It made her laugh. Aside from her young fiancé many, many years ago, no man had brought her flowers. A couple of times she had received flowers the day after, which was a whole different thing. But this was so adorable.
“How sweet,” she said. “Did you steal them from anyone’s garden?”
“I did!” he said. “Mrs. Pritchart, my next door neighbor. She was outside with her rake in hand and I told her I had a date and could sure use some flowers. She was so excited I was afraid she’d stroke out, but she clipped a few stems for me.” He sniffed the air. “Enchiladas?”
“How do you do that?”
“I’m a professional,” he said with a laugh. Then he looked at the table, attractively appointed for two. “Where’s Aunt Helen?” he asked.
“At the Crossing. For dinner.”
“We’re alone?”
She nodded.
He put his flowers and wine on the table. “For how long?”
“I don’t know. The last time she had dinner at Sully’s, I was with her and we stayed till almost nine. Helen’s not much of a night person. She stays awake, reading, but—”
That fast, his hands were on her cheeks, his long fingers threaded into her hair, his lips on her lips. He caught her in the middle of a word, leaving her lips parted for his, making that first kiss of the night so deep, so intimate. With a will of their own, her arms went around him, holding him. He tilted his head once, then the other way, deepening the kiss as he moved over her mouth. “Wait,” she said, breathless. “Where are your kids?”
He didn’t allow much space. He whispered into her mouth. “Finn is where Finn always is these days, with Maia. Sean has gone to the park with a couple of friends. He’s going to call me when he’s home.”
“He might just knock on my door,” she warned.
“He knows where you live?”
“Everyone knows where everyone lives,” she reminded him.
“He better not,” Rob said. “He could be embarrassed...”
Then he was kissing her again. And just as she knew she would, she thought, What the hell. She kissed back. It must have lasted a full minute. Then she said, “Wait.”
He sighed and leaned his forehead against hers. “Now what?”
“How long has it been? Since you’ve been... With a woman?”
“I don’t know. About six months, I think. I’m not in a relationship.”
“But you were seeing some woman in the restaurant business.”
“Not really,” he said. “She’s a friend. She’s divorced, very busy trying to climb her ladder in sales. We’ve had casual sex a few times and each time she has reminded me that she doesn’t want a serious relationship.”
“Some women say that and don’t mean it,” she said, but as she was saying it, she was caressing his back and arms.
“I think the deciding factor is the phone.”
“Huh?” she said, her fingers drifting up his neck into his hair.
“I’ve talked to you on the phone more in the past two weeks than I’ve talked to her in as many years. I’ve only called her to make plans. Trust me, it’s not a complication. I don’t have a girlfriend. Helen might be more of a complication.”
“I hope not,” she said. “Is that what we’re having? A relationship?”
“Yes, Leigh. That’s what this is. Just what kind of relationship hasn’t been decided yet. I think you’re deciding.”
He kissed her again. “Wait,” she said. “What do you expect us to tell people?”
He sighed and buried his face in her neck. “Oh God, you smell so good,” he murmured. “I’m not going to tell anyone anything. You tell whatever you want. Now just out of curiosity, do you want to talk for a while?”
“I’m trying to be sure this isn’t a mistake. Because I know where this is going.”
“Do you now?” he asked.
“You’re aroused,” she pointed out to him.
“No kidding. You’re pretty easy to get aroused about.”
“We need to get behind a closed door,” she said.
“Excellent idea,” he said, scooping her up in his arms. “Point!”
She pointed. Her heart hammered and a little voice in her head was chanting, Yes! This! Hurry! Now! He kicked the door closed and fell with her onto the bed, his mouth still stuck to hers, moving, devouring, penetrating. His hands were all over her breasts, down her sides, cupping her butt. Her fingertips moved into his hair and he groaned, letting his eyes close briefly. He slid his hands under her shirt, massaging her breasts. In no time at all they were both panting and pulling at clothing. He pulled her up and helped her out of her shirt, and in almost the same fluid movement he pulled his off.
She gasped and her fingers immediately went to that soft mat of hair on his muscled chest while he made fast work of the clasp on her bra, tossing it aside. He slid a hand under her and pulled her up, pressing himself against her and grinding at her until a small whimper escaped her. She hung on to him with her arms around his neck.
“Is this what you want?” he whispered in her ear.
“Oh God, yes,” she whispered back.
“The rest of these clothes have got to go,” he said.
She immediately unzipped his jeans. “I could use a little help here,” she said. Like magic, his pants disappeared and hers were sliding down past her knees, her panties with them, and there they were—naked and straining against each other, their lips locked together, their hands exploring. The length of his penis was captured between her legs and she moved against him. Wanting more of him, wanting him inside.