"But if he's around the corner, so to speak, you can keep hoping he might eventually."
"That's right." That, she realized, was exactly, perfectly right. "Opal Johnson couldn't push hope into her sons, and they needed it. I can'tor haven't-let go of mine when it's a useless weight."
"How does Carly feel?"
"Carly doesn't care." They soared over the water, where boats skimmed below the span of bridge. "She's healthier about it than I am."
"She has you. A kid knows she's loved, absolutely, she's got a healthy base."
He hadn't had that absolute love, she remembered, but had built his own base. "I haven't told her about the wedding yet. I will, when I'm not so mad. I don't think he'd have bothered to tell me about all this except the child support checks will be delayed while he changes banks. Changes his damn dollars to Euros and back again. Whatever."
"So you're pissed he's moving to Europe."
"Oh, I'm just pissed altogether." And suddenly just a little amused at the entire business. "I don't care who she is, no woman likes being traded in on the Mizzy model. Especially when the trade-in has a lot higher mileage."
"I bet the Mizzy model is high maintenance and can't handle the curves nearly as well."
"Hopeful thought. I'm telling you all this because it factors into my overall mood, which is restless and conflicted, and a little aggressive." The faintest smile curved her lips as she tilted her head to study his profile. "I'm wondering how you feel about aggressive women."
"Am I going to find out?"
"I believe you are."
"Oh boy."
When they were inside his house, she decided the cold drink could wait. They'd both probably need a gallon of cold liquid after they were done. Since he'd been considerate enough to wear a tie, she grabbed it and, strolling toward the stairs, pulled him behind her.
"Bedroom's up here, I assume? We didn't get that far last time."
"To the right, all the way down. Last on the left."
When she glanced over her shoulder, her eyes sparked on his. "I bet the view's lovely. We won't be paying much mind to that for a while, but I bet it's lovely."
She tugged him inside. She got the impression of space, of strong colors, tall windows. And best of all, a big iron bed.
"Now." She turned, tugged the knot on his tie loose. "This may hurt a little."
"My tolerance for pain is rising as we speak."
Laughing, she yanked his jacket off, flung it aside. Then backed him toward the bed, where she gave him a little shove until he sat. With slow, deliberate movements, she straddled him so the skirt of the sober business suit hiked high on her thighs.
"Now, gimme that mouth."
She used her teeth on it, her tongue, and all those wildly veering emotions coalesced into one hard, hot ball of lust. Her fingers got busy with his shirt, flipping open button after button until she could run her hands over flesh, scrape her nails over him. The quickening of his breath, the urgent way his hands streaked over her, made her feel invincible.
She let him peel her jacket off, tug the tank over her head. And, arching back, invited his lips and hands to feast and to take. The way he took, the way he feasted, electrified.
She was clamped around him, arms and legs. The most seductive of traps. A careless rake of his fingers and her hair came spilling down, fragrant red rain. A quick flick and her breasts, white satin, filled his hands.
Energized silk, he thought. Everything about her was smooth, soft, everything inside her so avid with purpose.
She let out a gasping laugh when he flipped her onto her back. Then a low purr of pleasure as his hands, his lips began to roam over her. Slowly now, he slid the skirt down her hips, her legs, following the movement with his mouth. The inside of her thigh, so firm and warm. The back of her knee, sensitive enough to cause quivers.
And when he retraced the route, and found her center, she went from quiver to quake.
Pleasure, dark and deep, swamped her. Sensation powered into sensation in a roaring, raging river. She tumbled into it, drowned in it until he dragged her gasping to the surface only to plunge her down again. She rolled with him, hands slipping, sliding over flesh damp with sweat; her mouth, frantic, greedy, seeking his. Until at last, at last, she straddled him again, took him in. Deep, deep as hearts thundered. Their bodies locked.
She rode him hard and long. His hands gripped her hips as she bowed forward or back. The sheer beauty of that shape, that silhouette, shimmered in his mind while the stunning drive of need ruled his body. And all of it was her. There was nothing but her when he shot blindly over that last jagged edge.
When she collapsed on him, simply fell limb by limb, he managed one final groan.
"I forgot-" She had to stop to wheeze in another breath.
"I didn't-I remembered that time. One suit off, another suit on." She let out a weak laugh. "No, not that-good memory, by the way. I was going to say I forgot how much I like sex."
He rested his forehead on her shoulder and hoped that, eventually, his brain would find its way back home. "Happy to remind you, as often as possible."
"Oh God, Duncan, I'd give almost anything for a glass of water. A half glass. One swallow."
"Okay, okay, don't beg. It's embarrassing." He rolled her over, and she kept going until she was splayed on her belly.
"You're my hero," she mumbled into the pillow, and drifted off. A faint smile curved her lips as she heard him walking back into the bedroom.
Then she leaped in shock as the ice water hit the center of her back. "Duncan!"
"What?" He stood, an innocent smile on his face, the glass in his hand. "You said you wanted water. You didn't say where you wanted it." Eyes narrowed, she got to her knees, held out a hand. She took a long sip. Then, with a half laugh, reached out to tug his hair. "Very funny." She tugged him again until his lips met hers.
Then poured the rest of the water over his head.
Chapter 20
Phoebe leaned over after Duncan stopped the car. "Thank you for going with me." She kissed him lightly. "Thank you for the sex. And thank you for the ride home."
"You're welcome. And on the second part? Pretty much anytime."
"An additional thank-you." She brushed his lips one more time.
"For understanding I have to get myself home earlier than Cinderella most of the time."
He trailed a finger around her ear. "If I buy you some glass slippers, do you think we could arrange a sleepover?"
With a laugh, she got out of the car. "You know, I was talking myself into backing off this-whatever this is-with you."
"Oh?" He got out so they stood for a moment, studying each other on opposite sides of the car. "Why is that?"
"I'm trying to remember. I had my reasons. Duncan, I'm resistant to being swept away."
"I'll leave the broom in the closet."
Too late, she thought. Much too late. "You're better at this than I am."
"At what?"
"At whatever this is."
Lights sparkled over in Forsythe Park, and there were soft pools of shadows along the street. Ava's flowers perfumed the air that threatened to turn sultry. Through the open windows of a passing car Delta Blues throbbed like a broken heart.
Here she stood, Phoebe thought, looking over at a man who excited her so she noticed those small details she often overlooked. So that those details were like colorful backdrops in Act Three of her personal play. And she was fretting over it because she wasn't absolutely certain how the play would end.