Just One Week (14 page)

“Yeah, well, you know Mom.”

“Don’t think we haven’t figured out what goes on in the cottage at night,” Dad said.

And in his bedroom upstairs. They didn’t have any problems in the sex department.

“You’re not toying with her, are you, Alex?”

“Dad!” He did glare at his father this time. His dad couldn’t seriously think he’d do something like that.

His father put a hand on his shoulder. “Just checking.”

“I couldn’t do that.” He hadn’t entered into a relationship with every woman he’d slept with. Some had been casual lovers, on both sides. But that was impossible with Michelle. Only where did that leave them?

“Work it out between yourselves, then,” Dad said. “But do it. I don’t want either of you hurt.”

“I will.” Easier said than done.

“I’d better get back outside, then. Your mother will be needing me.”

At that, his dad opened the door and went onto the deck. Before it closed, the sound of Michelle’s laughter came to him on a breeze.

…

Why had Alex taken off like that, and why hadn’t he returned? His initial reaction to seeing her had been everything Michelle had hoped for and more. Instant male interest, immediately by her side. Touching her in ways that said “mine.” If he’d been truly jealous of Sam Tillis’s attentions, he wouldn’t have left them alone.

She sipped some of Kyle’s zinfandel and skirted the party. She’d met many of these people at the winery. Family members mostly. The folks from the publishing house were something else entirely. So far, she’d met an anthropologist, a poet, and a woman who wrote cookbooks. Most had driven up from San Francisco and would be staying at the B&B and other inns in neighboring towns.

As night fell, a mellow jazz ensemble had set up to one side of the party area, and strings of lights overhead had come on. A truly romantic setting and one she’d hoped to share with Alex. Where was he?

He materialized finally, and in the dim light, he looked almost mythical in his finely tailored suit, with his broad shoulders and firm chest. He came right up to her. “Care to dance, pretty lady?”

She held up her glass. “I’ll need to get rid of this.”

“Got it covered.” He took the glass and gave it to a waiter. Then with his hand at the small of her back, he guided her to the area where couples were moving to the music.

Stepping into his arms felt like walking into a fantasy. She fit against his chest as if he’d been designed specifically for her. With the height her heels gave her, her nose brushed his chin, and she inhaled the scent of his cologne. The consummate gentleman, he’d shaved for the occasion, and she allowed herself to nuzzle his jaw.

“What’s that for?” he said.

“Because you might be the sexiest man alive.”

“You’re biased.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

He pulled back and studied her face. “Having a good time?”

“Amazing. You wouldn’t believe the people I’ve met,” she said.

“My dad and Chase run in pretty rarified company.”

She cocked her head and looked up at him. “Not you?”

“I tackle people for a living, remember?”

“Still, you must meet and hang out with them sometimes.”

“Sure.” With that, he clammed right up, his jaw tensing. The dyslexia? What else could upset him about discussing his family’s publishing company? He’d seemed decidedly uncomfortable around Sam Tillis and had actually escaped from the conversation. She thought of their lunch earlier, and how she’d noticed his struggle to read the menu. She’d hoped then that he would tell her the truth.

She gazed up at him. “Alex, is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

One of his eyebrows went up. “About what?”

How could she word this? She could let him know, straight out, that his grandmother had slipped and mentioned his dyslexia. But that would force him to share the secret. They could only be a couple if he trusted her with the information.

“Oh, I don’t know…” There, that sounded casual. “Why the authors at Stafford Publishing make you uncomfortable.”

He tensed. “Who says they do?”

“You had a funny reaction to Sam Tillis.”

“It would have been even funnier if he’d tried to put a hand on you.”

“Cute,” she said. “But I mean it. Why don’t you like to talk to people like him?”

“My whole life has been football. I went to a sports college, and now I play in the pros. Lots of people think athletes are dumb.”

Some people in academia thought that, sure. But that couldn’t apply to Alex. “No one could believe that about you.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Well, bless my soul,” a familiar male voice said. “Is that Michelle Dennis?”

She glanced around and found the source. Mr. Quinn, her high school chemistry teacher—the man who’d given her her love of science.

She nearly danced her way over to him. His hair had turned gray. Otherwise, he was the same man who’d laughed when she’d stained her fingers with the chemicals in the lab and encouraged her to enter the county science fair.

“Look at you, all grown up,” he said. “What are you doing with yourself?”

“Biochemistry, Mr. Quinn,” she said. “I have a PhD now. I’m doing research.”

“Best student I ever had.” He tapped the side of his head. “I told you you had a great mind.”

Mr. Quinn glanced past her, and his smile faded. “Stafford.”

Alex had come up beside her, and the two men sized each other up. A rather strange interaction for former teacher and student, but then, Alex hadn’t done particularly well in Mr. Quinn’s class.

“Nice party,” Mr. Quinn said.

“Glad you could come.” Alex didn’t sound glad in the least.

“I saw your brother. Another good student.” Clearly, Mr. Quinn left Alex out of that category.

She tucked her arm around Alex’s. “Alex plays in the NFL.”

“So I understand,” Mr. Quinn said.

So this was what Alex had been talking about. She’d heard of academics who scorned athletes, considering them second class students who expected special treatment because their teams brought prestige and money to their schools. She’d never seen that in action before, but she might be witnessing it now. Alex didn’t deserve that treatment. Being a braniac, as he’d used to call her, didn’t make you a good person.

Mr. Quinn turned his smile on her again. It didn’t feel nearly as welcoming as it had a few minutes before.

“What are you researching?” he asked.

“Biochemistry of Parkinson’s,” she answered.

“Wonderful,” Mr. Quinn said. “I knew you’d do well.”

Alex slipped an arm around her. “Michelle’s up for a job at Cardmouth University.”

Mr. Quinn’s eyes widened. “A research job?”

“Faculty,” she said.

“Tenure-track,” Alex added.

“Well, well,” Mr. Quinn said. “That is exciting.”

“Not sure I’ll get it. I have a lot of highly qualified competition,” she said.

“I’m sure you will, Michelle.” Mr. Quinn glanced at Alex. “And you’ll continue with football, I presume.”

“As long as they pay me,” Alex said. “Say, will you excuse us? I think my father needs help.”

“Of course.” Mr. Quinn smiled and disappeared back into the crowd.

Michelle turned toward Alex. “Jim doesn’t need anything.”

“But I do…” Alex said. “Want to dance some more?”

“Let’s.”

He took her elbow as they went back to the area in front of the band. They’d started another slow song, and soon, she was in Alex’s arms again. She’d enjoy the fantasy for as long as she could. Tomorrow reality would stare her in the face.

They still hadn’t said anything to each other about the future by the time Michelle lay in the bed waiting for Alex to join her. It was well after midnight when he appeared on the threshold to the bathroom, silhouetted by the small light in there. He stood there for a few seconds, his forearm resting against the doorframe, and then he hit the switch. Before her eyes had adapted and she could make him out, he’d picked up the blankets and slid in beside her. They lay for a bit, their sides touching. It was a pretty small bed, after all.

He sighed. “It was a great party.”

“It was.”

“Mom and Dad looked so happy,” he said.

Of course, they did. Thirty-five years married and together for some time before that. They had plenty to be happy about.

“I’m glad you came,” he said.

“Me, too.” Rolling over, she ran her arm around his ribs and rested her head on his shoulder. “You can’t let people like Mr. Quinn get to you.”

“I know. It’s just irritating.”

He was a lot more than irritated, if only he’d admit it to her. Obviously, his learning disability made him feel he couldn’t keep up with other people intellectually. In reality, lots of people would feel they didn’t fit in a crowd like the one at the party. She could make all that clear to him if only he’d trust her enough to tell her what made him so insecure.

She’d given him an opening earlier. Now she lay next to him in bed. Not exactly a situation where you could maintain emotional distance, but he managed quite well.

“I leave for Boston tomorrow,” she said.
God, please make him say something.

“Yeah.”

“I guess you’ll be getting to camp soon,” she said.

“Back to the grind,” he said. “Plus the kids I’m mentoring.”

“I read about that. You adopted a whole elementary school class.”

He put an arm around her and tugged her closer. “In a bad part of town. If they stay in school, I’m going to send them to college.”

“See? What you do is important.”

“Do you really want to talk about this?” he said.

“No.” Well, yes, she did if talking meant coming up with a solution that would keep them together, but that didn’t seem likely to happen.

He rolled onto her, resting his weight on his arms. “It’s late.”

She stroked his face. In the near-darkness she couldn’t make out the color of his eyes, but her memory supplied their deep blue. “Not too late.”

That declaration earned her a smile and a kiss. One last chance for lovemaking, and she wouldn’t waste it with sadness. Twining her arms around his neck, she moved her lips under his in a way that could only serve as prelude to intimacy. He slanted his mouth over hers to seal the promise, and they went deeper. Tugging her under to currents of desire at once forbidden and familiar.

She should have known better than to wear a nightgown, but then, he had pajama bottoms on. For now, the material did little to lessen the friction of her breasts against his solid chest. And in a moment, she could detect the hard length of his erection against her hip. If nothing else, she’d have these images imprinted on her mind to pull out and remember that for a few days, she’d held the man of her dreams in her arms and he’d made love to her as if they could be together forever. He couldn’t make the sex more wonderful for another woman. The laws of nature wouldn’t allow it. He might let her go, but surely, he’d never be able to erase their time together out of his memories.

As always, their connection took on a life of its own and he moved from her mouth to her jaw and laid a path of caresses down the length of her throat. She loved the way he kissed her neck, as if he were famished and couldn’t get enough of her. She stroked his head and his back as he went lower still, and in a moment, he’d closed his lips around one nipple, taking the cloth into his mouth as well.

Such an amazing lover, he created a web around her. Heat and his firm body against hers. Eventually, he reached to the hem of her gown and pulled it upward. She had to sit so he could tug it over her head, and then he tossed it aside to land wherever it wanted. Now his hands roamed everywhere, his long fingers massaging and pulling her against him. And she let him do it, giving him complete freedom. He’d make her explode into tiny pieces and then put her back together, a different person than the one he’d crawled into bed with.

Eventually, he reached the ultimate destination, and he took the time to kiss her inner thighs and even nip them gently. He’d kissed her most intimate flesh before, so she should have been prepared for heaven when he parted her lips and found that scrap of flesh that begged for his loving. But nothing could lessen the shock that travelled along her nerves as he stroked the spot with his tongue.

Oh, so good. And hot and sweet all at once. She could only lie and allow him to continue, urging her higher and higher. She let her mind drift off into the hottest erotic images she could imagine. Alex. Always Alex. Inside her, big and hard. Stretching her to take all of him.

He didn’t have to be imagined, though. He was here, creating all the delicious sensations. She could have him, maybe not for forever but for now.

She reached down and stroked his hair. “Now. I’m ready. Please.”

He immediately reached to the bedside table for a condom. Once he’d put it on, he rose up over her, poised to enter her. Sliding a hand between their bodies, she grasped him and guided the head into her. He entered her slowly, letting out a long groan of pleasure as he did.

She opened her eyes to record the moment, and found him looking back at her. Their gazes locked and held. Without words, they communicated. No matter what happened in the morning, this connection was real. She was losing him, if she’d ever had him, but for right now, they belonged to each other.

Too intense. She might cry if he continued to stare into her like that, and she would not spoil their last time together with tears. So she closed her eyes again and let her body take over, sealing out any unhappy thoughts.

He began to move. Slowly at first. Deep passes, nearly out of her and then back in. Each time he did, he jostled her nub, and the friction started her climb to the inevitable. She’d climax, and she’d have him inside her when she did. The ultimate, not a fantasy.

His face rested against hers, his lips near her ear. “Michelle. Oh, God, Michelle.”

“Alex,” she whispered as she stroked his shoulders and his back. Wrapping her legs around him, she could bring her hips up to meet his thrusts, and the pressure against her most sensitive flesh grew. She could hardly breathe because of the intensity of feeling, but she moved with him.