been dancing to had never stopped. The look on her face told Jefferson she was all set to continue slow dancing with him, moving to the music in her head.
Jefferson paused for a moment longer, letting the rhythm that was now pulsing hard and fast throughout the gallery settle into his system. With a nod, he took her hand and began to dance to the beat.
Stunned, unprepared, Sylvie stumbled for a second. She stared at him as she fell into step. He’d surprised her. Again. “This isn’t an old dance.”
“No,” he agreed amiably, “it’s not.” He had no idea what the song was called, or what heading it could be filed under. But he was good at imitating what he saw, and there were people around him dancing. The natural rhythm he’d been born with did the rest.
Within moments, the other dancers began to back away, giving them room. Watching them with appreciative expressions.
Sylvie felt exhilarated, improvising and then laughing as Jefferson half twirled, half swung her around the floor. By the time the number finally came to an end, she realized that she was very close to breathless. Was that because of the dance, or the man? She couldn’t say. All she knew was that she felt extremely alive.
Applause rose from all sides.
Sylvie laughed. “That was wonderful,” she exclaimed, hugging him. “You are a man of many surprises, Jefferson Lambert.” Still trying to catch her breath, she rose up on her toes and impulsively kissed him.
The laugh in her throat faded away as she found herself the recipient of yet another, far greater surprise.
She’d only meant to brush her lips against his. But one swift pass led to another. And another. Each time, the contact was a little longer, a little deeper. What began as less than a kiss blossomed until she felt it engulfing her.
Reacting, not thinking, Sylvie threaded her arms around Jefferson’s neck and drew her body closer to his, giving in to whatever it was that was happening here.
The kiss deepened until it had no beginning, no end.
And the longer she kissed him, the more she wanted to.
Finally, she stepped back.
Her head was spinning, her pulse seemed to have taken over her entire body and she was throbbing from top to bottom. The last time she had felt thisway, Daisy Rose had come along nine months later. But unlike Shane Alexander, Jefferson wasn’t trying to overwhelm her with his sexual prowess. He was just kissing her. Nothing more.
Nothing.
The word echoed in her head. Everything was more like it.
“Lots of surprises,” Sylvie heard herself saying again in a breathy tone. She realized suddenly that she was running the tip of her tongue along the outline of her lips, savoring the taste of him.
Well, he hadn’t been prepared for that, Jefferson thought almost numbly. Soldiers were expected to make their beds so that a quarter could be bounced on top of their blanket. That was how taut everything felt inside of him right now. Stretched so far it was in jeopardy of breaking.
Yet he couldn’t remember when he’d felt so alive.
He hadn’t seen the kiss coming. And he certainly hadn’t been prepared for his own reaction to it. He hadn’t kissed any woman but Donna since he was in his first year at Tulane.
Once Donna came into his life, she was all he needed. And after she was taken from him, he never had the desire to connect with another woman. Never felt any of the urges that his colleagues liked to spend so much time talking about on Monday morning. Sex was a three-letter word that he had agonized over only when he thought of Emily being confronted with it. Until now.
Her breath sufficiently recovered, Sylvie smiledat him as she threaded her fingers through his. She indicated the tables she’d helped set up yesterday. They were to the far left of the gallery’s central viewing area. Elegant glasses were set beside finely embossed paper plates. Nothing was conventional where Maddy was concerned.
“Come,” she coaxed, drawing him toward
Jefferson paused for a moment longer, letting the rhythm that was now pulsing hard and fast throughout the gallery settle into his system. With a nod, he took her hand and began to dance to the beat.
Stunned, unprepared, Sylvie stumbled for a second. She stared at him as she fell into step. He’d surprised her. Again. “This isn’t an old dance.”
“No,” he agreed amiably, “it’s not.” He had no idea what the song was called, or what heading it could be filed under. But he was good at imitating what he saw, and there were people around him dancing. The natural rhythm he’d been born with did the rest.
Within moments, the other dancers began to back away, giving them room. Watching them with appreciative expressions.
Sylvie felt exhilarated, improvising and then laughing as Jefferson half twirled, half swung her around the floor. By the time the number finally came to an end, she realized that she was very close to breathless. Was that because of the dance, or the man? She couldn’t say. All she knew was that she felt extremely alive.
Applause rose from all sides.
Sylvie laughed. “That was wonderful,” she exclaimed, hugging him. “You are a man of many surprises, Jefferson Lambert.” Still trying to catch her breath, she rose up on her toes and impulsively kissed him.
The laugh in her throat faded away as she found herself the recipient of yet another, far greater surprise.
She’d only meant to brush her lips against his. But one swift pass led to another. And another. Each time, the contact was a little longer, a little deeper. What began as less than a kiss blossomed until she felt it engulfing her.
Reacting, not thinking, Sylvie threaded her arms around Jefferson’s neck and drew her body closer to his, giving in to whatever it was that was happening here.
The kiss deepened until it had no beginning, no end.
And the longer she kissed him, the more she wanted to.
Finally, she stepped back.
Her head was spinning, her pulse seemed to have taken over her entire body and she was throbbing from top to bottom. The last time she had felt thisway, Daisy Rose had come along nine months later. But unlike Shane Alexander, Jefferson wasn’t trying to overwhelm her with his sexual prowess. He was just kissing her. Nothing more.
Nothing.
The word echoed in her head. Everything was more like it.
“Lots of surprises,” Sylvie heard herself saying again in a breathy tone. She realized suddenly that she was running the tip of her tongue along the outline of her lips, savoring the taste of him.
Well, he hadn’t been prepared for that, Jefferson thought almost numbly. Soldiers were expected to make their beds so that a quarter could be bounced on top of their blanket. That was how taut everything felt inside of him right now. Stretched so far it was in jeopardy of breaking.
Yet he couldn’t remember when he’d felt so alive.
He hadn’t seen the kiss coming. And he certainly hadn’t been prepared for his own reaction to it. He hadn’t kissed any woman but Donna since he was in his first year at Tulane.
Once Donna came into his life, she was all he needed. And after she was taken from him, he never had the desire to connect with another woman. Never felt any of the urges that his colleagues liked to spend so much time talking about on Monday morning. Sex was a three-letter word that he had agonized over only when he thought of Emily being confronted with it. Until now.
Her breath sufficiently recovered, Sylvie smiledat him as she threaded her fingers through his. She indicated the tables she’d helped set up yesterday. They were to the far left of the gallery’s central viewing area. Elegant glasses were set beside finely embossed paper plates. Nothing was conventional where Maddy was concerned.
“Come,” she coaxed, drawing him toward
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