maternal urges?
She’d never once spoken of motherhood for herself.
But then again,
who was he to be surprised? No one would ever believe the changes he’d been
thinking about for his own life. He could only imagine how the brass plates
back in Manhattan would react if he decided to actually go through with any of
those plans.
Cara was still
looking out at the ocean, an expression of longing on her face that he’d never
seen before. Her vulnerability overwhelmed him and made him want to touch
her. Reaching out, he stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers and
gently brushed a wayward strand of hair aside.
She closed her
eyes for a mere second, and leaned into his touch, the scent of jasmine
drifting to him with the light breeze. She smelled sweet like powder and
lemons, as if she’d just made some homemade lemonade before she came over. He
heard her moan softly before her eyes flew open.
She stood up
quickly, pulling the cuffed edges of her white shorts from her thighs before
taking the few steps down the stairs. She brushed her hand along her derriere
as if she were suddenly self-conscious. What he wouldn’t do to have his hand
there, doing that very same thing. He couldn’t help but take pleasure in the
gentle sway of her hips as she moved. He’d touched her countless times in
harmless ways, but never in the way his mind kept insisting he venture now.
And it was an
incredible odd place to go. This was Cara, the girl he used to help climb out
of her second floor bedroom window in the middle of the night so they could
have a bonfire on the beach and drink cheap liquor. She was the one who played
hooky from her summer job just to drive all the way to New Hampshire to buy an
old beat up Firebird he’d wanted to restore.
And she was the
one who listened to countless hours of his hopes for the future, his fears of
failure and his devastation when he learned his father was going to die.
She’d been
there, always. No matter what time of day or night. And like that old
Firebird, he’d left her and their friendship behind. Looking back, he couldn’t
understand shy. When had their friendship ceased to be important enough that
he no longer needed her?
She twisted
around and smiled at him. It was a slow, coy smile that he wasn’t used to
seeing on her. She’d always been confident. But now, she looked exposed, as
if that hot fire that sparked to life, making him want to pull her into his
arms, was somehow affecting her, too. And the idea of that wasn’t half bad.
“I should be
going,” she said finally.
He felt his
expression collapse. “You just got here.”
She was
uncomfortable. He could see it by the way she flitted her gaze to him and then
away. God, he hated that. That wasn’t the way it was supposed to be with
them.
“I’m going to
see if I can drag Roger away from Dad’s den for a little while. There’s no
telling what my mother is up to now that Roger is staying under the same roof.”
“That bad?”
“Actually, no.
I have to admit I thought it would be worse than it is. They’re trying to stay
out of each other’s way, which is a blessing. But still...”
Her voice was
soft and when a soft sigh escaped her lips he had the incredible urge to touch
her mouth, kiss her. Sure, he’d kissed her before. But as a friend. Not at
all the way he wanted to take her now.
Disappointment
hit him straight in the chest. He didn’t want her to leave. He wanted to sit
there—all day if he could—and just look at her, talk to her. It had been a
long time since he’d felt this much at peace being with another person, not
worrying about weighing his words or thoughts. It’s what he always loved most
about him and Cara.
He pulled
himself up from the stairs. “Let me get a shirt. I’ll walk you back.”
She shook her
head and nibbled on her bottom lip. “That’s okay. I could use some
She’d never once spoken of motherhood for herself.
But then again,
who was he to be surprised? No one would ever believe the changes he’d been
thinking about for his own life. He could only imagine how the brass plates
back in Manhattan would react if he decided to actually go through with any of
those plans.
Cara was still
looking out at the ocean, an expression of longing on her face that he’d never
seen before. Her vulnerability overwhelmed him and made him want to touch
her. Reaching out, he stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers and
gently brushed a wayward strand of hair aside.
She closed her
eyes for a mere second, and leaned into his touch, the scent of jasmine
drifting to him with the light breeze. She smelled sweet like powder and
lemons, as if she’d just made some homemade lemonade before she came over. He
heard her moan softly before her eyes flew open.
She stood up
quickly, pulling the cuffed edges of her white shorts from her thighs before
taking the few steps down the stairs. She brushed her hand along her derriere
as if she were suddenly self-conscious. What he wouldn’t do to have his hand
there, doing that very same thing. He couldn’t help but take pleasure in the
gentle sway of her hips as she moved. He’d touched her countless times in
harmless ways, but never in the way his mind kept insisting he venture now.
And it was an
incredible odd place to go. This was Cara, the girl he used to help climb out
of her second floor bedroom window in the middle of the night so they could
have a bonfire on the beach and drink cheap liquor. She was the one who played
hooky from her summer job just to drive all the way to New Hampshire to buy an
old beat up Firebird he’d wanted to restore.
And she was the
one who listened to countless hours of his hopes for the future, his fears of
failure and his devastation when he learned his father was going to die.
She’d been
there, always. No matter what time of day or night. And like that old
Firebird, he’d left her and their friendship behind. Looking back, he couldn’t
understand shy. When had their friendship ceased to be important enough that
he no longer needed her?
She twisted
around and smiled at him. It was a slow, coy smile that he wasn’t used to
seeing on her. She’d always been confident. But now, she looked exposed, as
if that hot fire that sparked to life, making him want to pull her into his
arms, was somehow affecting her, too. And the idea of that wasn’t half bad.
“I should be
going,” she said finally.
He felt his
expression collapse. “You just got here.”
She was
uncomfortable. He could see it by the way she flitted her gaze to him and then
away. God, he hated that. That wasn’t the way it was supposed to be with
them.
“I’m going to
see if I can drag Roger away from Dad’s den for a little while. There’s no
telling what my mother is up to now that Roger is staying under the same roof.”
“That bad?”
“Actually, no.
I have to admit I thought it would be worse than it is. They’re trying to stay
out of each other’s way, which is a blessing. But still...”
Her voice was
soft and when a soft sigh escaped her lips he had the incredible urge to touch
her mouth, kiss her. Sure, he’d kissed her before. But as a friend. Not at
all the way he wanted to take her now.
Disappointment
hit him straight in the chest. He didn’t want her to leave. He wanted to sit
there—all day if he could—and just look at her, talk to her. It had been a
long time since he’d felt this much at peace being with another person, not
worrying about weighing his words or thoughts. It’s what he always loved most
about him and Cara.
He pulled
himself up from the stairs. “Let me get a shirt. I’ll walk you back.”
She shook her
head and nibbled on her bottom lip. “That’s okay. I could use some
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