DEREK BUTTONED HIS white linen shirt, put on his beige vest, and grabbed his gray tweed sport coat on the way out of his bedroom. He tugged it on as he went to say good night to his father. There was a time when Jonah Grant had seemed larger-than-life. Whether he was playing his guitar, cooking, or helping Derek with homework, he’d had an authoritative presence about him. Upbeat yet stern. As Derek breezed into the living room, he took in his father’s scruffy cheeks—Jonah had developed a hatred for shaving lately—and the blue baseball cap that had become part of his daily attire. The disease had claimed so much of him that he often thought he was a young man again. Derek was hit with a familiar wave of conflicting emotions. He considered every day he had with his father a blessing, even though some days were beyond difficult to get through.
He crouched beside his chair, covering his father’s hand with his own. “Pop?” He waited for his father to look over. “I’ll be home later, okay? It’s potluck night with my friends. Sunday you and I will go to the museum.”
His father’s blue eyes drifted down Derek’s chest. “You look nice, Archie.”
Derek’s heart sank.
Maria looked up from where she was reading on the couch with an empathetic expression on her face. She knew the feeling of holding her breath to see which man they were speaking to—the lucid father, the disoriented patient, or the guy who had jumped back in time, suddenly fifteen or twenty years old again.
“Thanks, Pop.” It’s me, Derek, your son. Stifling the futile reminder had become as rote as checking his father’s meds and adhering to a daily schedule. His father’s lucid moments came and went. Derek had long ago accepted that part of the unfair disease. It was the mention of his father’s brother, Archie, that bothered him most. Archie and his father had been close as kids, but Archie was an artist and lived overseas. He had been adopted and hadn’t inherited the genes for this awful disease, which Derek was grateful for. But he wished his uncle lived closer, as he visited only once a year. Early-onset Alzheimer’s progressed quicker than other forms of the disease, and the more his father disappeared, the more it hurt knowing he probably had only a handful of visits left with his brother.
“I haven’t seen you wear those pants for a while,” Maria said with a twinkle of delight in her eyes. “It must be a very special potluck dinner. I should iron those for you, mijo. Oy, and that shirt, too. You’re rumpled. Your mama would shake her head at you.”
“No time.” Derek had filled in for half of a coworker’s shift at the bar this afternoon and had barely had time to shower and dress after getting home. He patted his father’s hand, kissed his cheek, and whispered, “Love you.”
Maria pointed to her cheek, and Derek pressed a kiss to it. “Thanks again for staying later tonight. I’m not sure how long we’ll be, but I’m only a phone call away. We’re going to India’s.”
“Take your time. I’ll sleep in the guest room if you’re too late. We’re having a good night so far.” Derek often had to work until past midnight, and on those nights Maria sometimes stayed in the guest room. “You go, have fun. I’ll call if we need you.”
Derek grabbed the cooler with the dish he’d prepared, and twenty minutes later he stood at Talia’s front door, trying to calm his nerves. He was used to stepping outside his comfort zone. Hell, the past few years had kicked him in the ass. There was nothing comfortable about dancing at the bar, watching his father deteriorate before his eyes, relying on Maria as a son should never have to, and giving up most of his autonomy. But picking up Talia for their first date brought a new feeling. Where his father’s illness sometimes made him feel weak for not being able to protect him, picking up Talia brought a rush of adrenaline, of strength and vitality, topped off with red-hot desire.
Derek had heard of Sugar Lake, though he’d never been to Sweetwater. From what he’d seen on his drive in, it was a charming town with cobblestone streets and old-fashioned storefronts. Talia’s two-story town house was located just beyond the marina, overlooking Sugar Lake, which was half-frozen. He knocked on the door, and seconds later he was staring at the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen. Cascades of dark hair tumbled over her sleek, bare shoulders. Hints of olive-colored lace peeked out beneath an off-the-shoulder beige sweater. Tight jeans hugged her mile-long legs, tucked into knee-high, olive-colored suede boots. Her lusciously plump lips and the expressive brown eyes that had first reeled him in smiled back at him.
“Wow,” slipped out before he could form a more refined greeting. “You look gorgeous.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Mm. And you smell like Tuscany in the summertime. Fresh, citrusy, and utterly alluring.”
“Thank you,” she said with an air of disbelief. She blinked several times, her eyes roaming over his face and hair, then slowly down the length of him.
He ran his hand down his rumpled vest and shirt. “I didn’t have time to iron.”
“Who needs an iron?” she said a little breathlessly. “You look incredible. I never knew I had a thing for guys with long hair, but for lack of a better word, wow yourself. I love your hair up and kind of down like that. Don’t get me wrong; I really like it down, too.”
He absently touched his hair. He’d pinned it back, but strands always broke free. He’d never thought about it much until now, and he was glad he’d pinned it up.
“And your outfit is perfect, like you walked out of a Casual Male fashion magazine or something. Maybe I should change?” She took a step back into the foyer, and he touched her hand.
“Don’t change a thing. We’re perfectly matched. Two wows.”
She laughed softly and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Come in while I get my coat.”
He stepped inside and felt Talia all around him, from the pretty peach walls with white accents to the demure gray couch with colorful throw pillows in the living room to the left of the foyer. A ceramic bowl holding a set of keys and a pen sat on a table by the front door, along with a small notebook, a box from Sweetie Pie Bakery, and a flyer for a cooking class. He remembered Talia’s derogatory comment about her cooking skills and brightened at the thought of her taking a class. It seemed a very Talia thing to do.
He glanced at a group of photographs on a table at the base of the stairs. The resemblance between Talia and her family was too strong to deny. She had her father’s eyes, her mother’s nose, and she was much prettier than any of her sisters. Her brother stood protectively between the girls, with two on either side, his arms around them all. He was glad she had him looking after her. But his favorite picture was of a little brown-haired, brown-eyed Talia and three tiny blondes, all wearing polka-dot bikinis with oranges stuffed in the tops like boobs. They were arm in arm, beaming at the camera with gap-toothed grins. Behind the girls, a lanky boy stood with his arms out, showing off his biceps.
That single picture told him everything he needed to know about Talia, her happy childhood, and her close-knit family.
“I like your place,” he said as she retrieved her coat from the foyer closet.
“Thanks. I’ve rented here for several years. I like the view of the lake, and I can walk to town.”
When she turned, his eyes were drawn to a speck of something brown beside her lower lip. “Come here, beautiful. You’ve got something . . .” He reached up and wiped it off.
She covered her mouth with her hand, and her gaze shifted to a bakery box. Embarrassment shimmered in her eyes.
He chuckled. “How many doughnuts did you devour before our date?”
“It’s chocolate baklava.” She lowered her hand and said, “How hard did you work out before our date?”
“I actually didn’t have time to work out.” He stepped closer, his gaze lingering on her mouth as she licked her lips. “Can I assume this is chocolate?” He held up his finger, and she answered with a smile. He sucked the sweetness from his finger, and her eyes flamed. “Tell me, Talia, did the sugar do the trick?”
“No,” came out in a lustful rush of minty air.
“Good.” He pushed both hands into her hair, framing her face between his palms, and gazed deeply into her eyes. “I’m going to kiss you now, so if you don’t want me to, you have about three seconds to say ‘Please don’t.’”
Neither one of them blinked as he mentally struggled through two of the longest seconds of his life. She shot up on her toes, grabbed his jacket, and pulled him into the kiss he was already taking. He sank into her sweet, hot mouth, pulling her closer as he intensified his efforts. Her arms circled his neck, and he swept one arm around her, holding her so tight he could feel her heart beating against his chest. He’d thought about kissing her so many times, wondered if she’d kiss like she did everything else, confidently, with a measure of caution, but as he kissed her harder, more demanding, taking everything she had to give, she was right there with him, her tongue searching, probing, her body shifting and arching, igniting an inferno inside him. He couldn’t resist tangling his fingers into her soft, silky hair, earning the most seductive sound he’d ever heard. It wound through him like liquid fire, stoking his most primal urges.
Their kisses were endless, her mouth was magnificent, and if he didn’t break their connection soon, he might never stop. He’d promised her a date, and as much as he wanted to continue kissing her—to carry her up to her bedroom, strip her bare, and devour every luscious inch of her—he forced himself to put on the brakes, easing to a series of languid, intoxicating kisses. When they finally parted, he couldn’t stand it, and pressed his lips to hers once more.
They came away breathless, and he touched his forehead to hers, holding her trembling body against him. He couldn’t remember a single kiss, a single connection, as powerful as this one.
“Wow,” they said in unison.
He pressed his lips to hers again. “Sorry. I just had to get that over with or I might have burst.”
“Me too,” she said softly, running shaky fingers over her lips as if they still tingled like his did.
Her eyes fluttered open, and he was captivated by the raw emotions looking back at him.
“That was supposed to take the edge off before we met my friends.”
“Oh . . .”
“I don’t think it did,” he said with a grin.
“Then you’re doing better than me. I know it didn’t.”
The both looked at the bakery box and said, “Sugar!”
On the way to meet his friends, Derek filled Talia in on what they were like. She tried to concentrate on their descriptions, but she was too busy reveling in the aftermath of their incredible kisses. She could still feel the scratch of his scruff, the hard press of his lips. Her ability to focus ebbed, but she’d heard enough that when they arrived, she found they were just as quirky, friendly, and wonderful as he’d described.
India Cosgrove, a vibrant woman who looked to be around Piper’s age and size, was hosting the get-together. She had skin the color of honey and the most gorgeous corkscrew curls billowing around her pretty face. She greeted Talia with a tight hug.
“So, you’re the woman who nearly ran over our boy,” India said with a twinkle in her eyes.
“No, I—” Before Talia could get her response out, Eli Winslow, a dead ringer for Adam Driver, complete with lanky body, angular nose, jet-black hair, and a brown fedora, put his arm around her and pulled her against his side.
“Don’t mind India,” Eli said as he dragged Talia toward the colorful kitchen. “She’s always looking for ways to meet guys.”
Talia looked over her shoulder and saw Derek talking with India, but he was watching her and Eli.
In the kitchen, a woman with wavy shoulder-length salt-and-pepper hair and kind eyes set down the dish she’d taken from the oven, pulled off her oven mitts and placed them on the counter, and said, “You must be Talia. I’m Phyllis. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Hi. Derek’s said such nice things about you.”
“He’s lying again?” Eli teased.
Derek set the cooler he’d brought on the table and then pried Eli’s hand from Talia’s shoulder, and the two exchanged a manly embrace.
“Good to see you, man. I missed you last week.”
“Yeah . . .” Eli shook his head. “Mom had a rough one.”
“I’m sorry.” Derek stepped behind Talia and leaned in close. His breath slid over her cheek as he pressed a kiss beside her ear and said, “Can I take your coat?” He helped her off with it and laid it over a chair in the corner of the room with the others.
The house smelled spicy and delicious, and it was filled with plants—hanging and potted. Music played in the living room, giving the gathering a festive feel as they set dishes on the table. Derek hummed to the music as he lit candles. He and Phyllis danced around the room, swinging their hips and shoulders. He looked happy. They all did. India whipped from one end of the kitchen to the other, setting out napkins and condiments and directing Talia so she was kept busy, too. Talia had been so nervous when she was getting ready for their date, she’d changed her clothes several times while fielding texts from her sisters, each suggesting a different outfit. His friends were so easygoing, she didn’t know what she’d been nervous about.
“I’m envious of your green thumb,” she said to India as they carried wineglasses to the table.
India looked around the dining room at the tall palms, hanging ferns, and other plants and said, “They represent life and make me feel like I can breathe, no matter what else is going on.”
“Well, they’re lovely.”
“Why don’t we sit down and eat? I have Eli’s sangria!” Phyllis set a pitcher on the table, among the veritable feast of falafel, cilantro and lime chicken, paella, and several dishes that hadn’t yet been explained but looked delicious.
Derek pulled out Talia’s chair. “I know you don’t drink, so don’t feel pressure to taste the sangria.”
“I don’t drink much, but I’d like to try it.”
He took the seat beside her and filled her glass, then proceeded to pour some for each of the others. Then he took Talia’s hand and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too. Outside of family and Fletch, I don’t get together with people very often. Thank you for inviting me. And thank you,” she said to the others, “for letting me join you.”
Eli lifted his glass. “To new friends and lovers!”
“Eli.” Derek gave him a narrow-eyed warning.
“What?” Eli clinked glasses with India and winked at Talia. “He’s a good guy. Don’t hold us weirdos against him.”
Derek touched his glass to hers. His blue eyes coasted slowly over her, lingering like she was the only thing he saw. His lips curved up in a smile that reached his eyes and filled her heart. Why was she so drawn to him? Um, maybe because I finally met a guy who has his priorities straight and is interesting and as tasty as hot fudge. A nest of butterflies swarmed in her belly, and she realized Eli was still looking at her as if he were expecting a response.
“I don’t want to hold anything against Derek but me.” She had no idea where she’d gotten the courage to say that, since she’d never before been that bold. But Derek and his friends made her feel like they were already a couple, and it was the truth. She didn’t want him holding another woman.
Eli whipped out his phone and took a few pictures. When he turned the camera on her and Derek, Derek kissed her.
“Nice,” Eli said. “My turn!” He grabbed India’s shirt as she came around the edge of the table and pushed his lips out like a fish.
India twisted out of his reach, laughing. “Eli! We’ve been over this.”
Eli scoffed. “One day you’ll give in.”
“Or not.” India set a tray of baked brie with figs, walnuts, and pistachios on the table. She sat down and said, “So, Talia. Who do you take care of?”
Talia looked at Derek. “Um . . . ? Take care of?”
“I forgot to mention we’re all caring for our parents,” Derek explained. “India and her sister take care of their father, who had a stroke last year. Eli’s mother had him late in life, and she’s struggling with memory problems and severe arthritis.”
“She’s stubborn as a bull, too,” Eli said.
“My parents are elderly, but they’re not ill,” Phyllis said. “They need help navigating more and more lately.”
Talia’s heart opened even more to Derek and his friends. “I don’t have anyone that I’m taking care of like that, but I can appreciate how hard that must be. How did you guys meet?”
“We met through a support group Eli runs,” India explained.
“It’s hard,” Phyllis agreed. “You can’t hold down a full-time job unless you can afford a caregiver. Most friendships go by the wayside. Not many people understand that you have to plan things way ahead of time, often need to be home early, and you might have to cancel at the last minute because your relative is having a hard time.” She looked thoughtfully at the others and said, “Then you find a few special people who get it. And they become your new friends. Your new family.”
“But not everyone is as understanding,” Eli said. “It’s tough, taking care of aging parents, and there are plenty of people who feel stuck with the responsibility. Hell, sometimes we all do, and we help each other through those times. We get along so well because we’re not holding grudges against our parents for something they can’t help.”
“They raised us,” India said. “It seems only fair that we give them the same love and attention they gave us when we needed it most.”
“That’s beautiful,” Talia said. Some days she thought taking care of herself was more than she could handle, and they were giving up huge parts of their lives to take care of their parents. “They’re lucky to have you. I’d like to think that if or when the time comes, my siblings and I would share in the caretaking. I guess it really makes you think about your future, and maybe having to put some of your dreams on hold. Each of you must be doing that to some extent.”
“Have you told her about Our Friends’ House?” India asked.
Derek shook his head. “I didn’t want to send her running for the hills just yet.”
“Our Friends’ House?” Talia asked.
“You mentioned putting our dreams on hold. We’ve all done that. I once dreamed of running my own restaurant. Father and son, you know? Team Grant. But taking care of my father has opened my eyes to what really matters, and I developed a new dream. That’s why I went back to school. I want to open an adult day-care center for families like ours whose loved ones aren’t ready for a nursing home but need full-time care.”
“And we all want in on it,” India said. “My sister Sahara is a doctor, and she’s going to help part-time. Phyllis is a physical therapist. Derek cooks, entertains, and knows a heck of a lot about running a facility because he’s a research nut, and Eli is a therapist.”
“Was,” Eli corrected her. “I’m more of a part-time counselor now. And India is . . . India.”
“Hey!” India scowled at him. “I spent three years working in a doctor’s office, handling billing and reception. I’ll be taking care of the administrative end as well as just being me, and keeping everyone happy.”
“Which she does really well,” Phyllis added.
“This is brilliant.” Talia was unable to hide her astonishment. “This could help so many families. I’ve heard of adult day-care facilities. But isn’t it expensive to put something like this together? Where will you do it?”
“I’ve spent two years researching and putting together a business profile outlining budgets, staffing, the whole deal. I’ve also had a few meetings with the administrators of the senior center here in town to pick their brains. They’ve been really helpful in fielding my questions and giving guidance.” Derek spoke passionately, his eyes glimmering with excitement. “And as for where, my father and I live in a massive old farmhouse that needs work, but it’s on a quiet street, and I’ve already obtained preliminary approval to make it into a day-care facility, assuming we get through renovations and meet all the criteria. I’ve got a nice nest egg from dancing, but I’ve got another year or so before I’ll have enough saved to begin the process, and then I hope to pay off the renovations within two years after that so there aren’t any loans hanging over my head.”
The image of people throwing money at him when he danced came rushing back. The pieces of his life, and his adamancy about continuing to dance, started to make sense.
“Even with us all chipping in, we’re still short a good bit of capital,” India explained.
Talia’s mind raced in a hundred directions. She wished Ben were there. He might be able to give them some advice. “I wish I knew more about raising capital. This is really impressive.”
“We’re not doing it to be impressive,” Derek said with a serious look in his eyes.
“I understand, but that doesn’t lessen how remarkable it is that you all came together and are developing a business that should be available to families around here. This will touch the lives of so many people. It’s inspiring. You’re all inspiring, giving so much of yourselves. Derek, you’re lucky that you can afford to work part-time and still make enough to care for your father, while saving money toward the center, but how many people can afford to give up their full-time jobs? I think people will be breaking down your doors to get in.”
“We want to keep it small and personable,” Phyllis said. “At least at first, until we find our footing.”
“This will never be about money,” Derek said gently. “This is about people. We always say that what we do for a living isn’t who we are, but this endeavor? This is about who we are.”
The more Talia learned about him, the harder she fell for the man he was and all that he stood for.
Dinner was delicious, and the banter was entertaining. Derek and his friends treated one another like siblings. They had deep discussions about life and lightheartedly pondered how their dreams had changed over the years. They teased and joked and weren’t afraid to show their real emotions. Talia couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed an evening as much as she enjoyed tonight. Derek and his friends also seemed genuinely interested in hearing about her and the classes she taught. It was easy to see why Derek had bonded with them, and even easier to see that these were more than friends. She imagined gatherings like tonight were rejuvenating for all of them. Including me.
They danced around the kitchen as they cleared the table to prepare for dessert, though she was so full from their pre-dinner sugarfest and the delicious meal, she wasn’t sure she could eat another bite.
“Talia’s sister made chocolate baklava,” Derek said, then dipped his head and kissed her shoulder as he walked past.
She felt like she was in a scene from The Big Chill—and loved every second of it. Outside of her family, she’d never had friends like these, who were so open and fun, but also serious about family and life. And never in a million years would she have imagined herself dancing around someone else’s kitchen with people she’d just met. She gazed across the room at Derek, and her heart stumbled. Oh yes, Mr. Blue Eyes, you are definitely turning my world upside down, and I never thought I’d like that, either.
“My favorite!” India said. “You should bring her sometime. Anyone who makes chocolate baklava deserves to feast with us.”
“Willow would love this. She was very intrigued by my guy and his request for a Mediterranean dessert.”
The room went silent, save for the music as Derek’s friends exchanged approving glances. Derek took her hand and pulled her against him, and she realized what she’d said.
“Your guy?” he asked.
“It just came out,” she said quickly, but for the first time since college, she felt—truly felt—excited about, and interested in, a man. She didn’t want to tiptoe around it or pretend it wasn’t the most amazing feeling, so she said, “But I kind of hope it’s true. I mean, if you—”
Her words were silenced by the press of his lips. His friends hooted and cheered, making her blush a red streak.
“I’m your guy, beautiful,” he said against her lips, and began a sensual dance.
This wasn’t a stage dance meant to impress. His body swayed fluidly and somehow also powerfully, moving with her, not for her, as he gazed deeply into her eyes. She felt herself letting go, lifting more of her barriers, wanting to be even closer to him. In the next second, images of him up onstage, dancing in front of all those other women, came at her, stealing a little of her joy. She felt herself stiffen, and confusion rose in his eyes. He began singing along with the stereo in a low, seductive voice about taking his arm and walking down the street.
His gaze turned pleading, as if he’d read her mind and understood her struggle. He pressed his cheek to hers, still singing, though this was no song she’d ever heard before. This was meant for her ears only.
“Let it go, sweet Talia. It’s not who I am; you know it’s true. Be with me. Let me show you.” He drew back, never missing a beat. His hands splayed across her back possessively, honesty welling in the depths of his eyes as he said, “You can trust me to be careful with your heart.”
All it took was one look for him to understand what was going on in her head and, more importantly, for him to want to make her comfortable. She was safe with him and somehow knew she could trust him not to hurt her. His words soothed her, his body beckoned her, and the tension faded away. She melted against him as he sang to her, and the lingering weight of her worries lifted. It was an amazing and frightening feeling to trust someone that much. They danced through several songs, his friends singing and swaying around them, and soon, to her surprise, it all felt natural—dancing, trusting, the safety of Derek and this group of friends. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t known any of them long or that there were aspects of Derek’s job she struggled with, because those aspects enabled him to give more of himself to his father and, if he realized his dreams, to also help many more families. The way he focused on her, cared about her comfort, made it easy to feel like she belonged. Like they belonged together. She gave herself permission not to overthink or overanalyze, but to enjoy another romantic evening with the man who made her heart happy.
When the song ended, Derek continued holding her, dancing, as he whispered, “Are you looking for the nearest exit so you can sprint back to your comfort zone yet?”
He’d held her hand all evening and shared his dinner, offering tastes of different dishes and explaining who’d made what. He laughed at her jokes and paid complete attention when she spoke, making it easy to forget this was their first real date. And as she gazed into the bottomless blue eyes of the man who had appeared unexpectedly in her life and was surprising her at every turn, running away was the last thing on her mind.
“I’m actually hoping tonight never ends.”
On the drive home, Talia was a hot mess. Her hormones were in overdrive, taking full advantage of their venture out of their comfort zone and making her a nervous wreck. This was worse than finals week when she was in college. Worse than when she lost her virginity, because at least then she’d had enough alcohol in her system to dull her nerves. This was knee-knocking, stomach-tumbling nervousness. Wanting Derek had become all she could think about. He was as tender and thoughtful as he was manly, and every time those blue eyes locked on her, she got the feeling he looked deeper and saw more of the real her than anyone ever had. Oh, how she wanted to feel all his tenderness and his virility when he touched her, those big hands wandering all over her naked body. Heat shivered down her spine as he parked by her house and came around to her side of the car to help her out.
“Shall we?” He reached for her hand.
At five nine, Talia was the tallest of her sisters, and she had relatively large hands. Derek’s hand engulfed hers, sparking more dirty thoughts about what she’d like him to do with them. She usually turned into a motormouth when she was nervous, but as he walked her to her door, she wasn’t sure she could even form a coherent good night without attacking him.
On the porch, she fidgeted with her keys. Should she invite him in? She wanted to, but would that make her seem easy? She wasn’t easy, and she had a feeling he already knew that, but right that second, after so many steamy kisses and such a wonderful night, every beat of her heart pushed her to be easy with him.
“I can’t remember the last time I’ve had so much fun. Thank you for coming with me tonight.” He gathered her in his arms and slid his hand possessively to the nape of her neck. “You’re shaking. Cold?”
“Nervous. So nervous.” Oh my gosh. I’m so lame . . .
Flames rose in his eyes. He brushed his lips over her cheek and said, “Let me help you with that.”
His lips covered hers, soft and sweet, like the first step outside on a summer day, warm and inviting. Exhilarating. His fingers tightened in her hair, and a moan of appreciation crawled from his lungs, vibrating into their kiss. That sound unleashed hours—days? years?—of pent-up desire, and she went a little wild. Kissing him ravenously, she shoved her fingers into his hair, causing it to break free from its tether and tumble over her wrists. Why did that turn her on even more? Her world was spinning, and her body was on a mission, pressing against his hard frame, feeling every inch of his desire, urging him to take more. Her hands moved along his broad shoulders, his muscles flexing against her palms as her hands glided down his back. Blood rushed in her ears as she fought the urge to go lower. She wanted to feel more of him so badly, just the thought of touching his ass made her go damp. She craved taking what she wanted, but she’d never been a taker. He intensified their kisses, and every stroke of his tongue chipped away at her good-girl resolve. When he moaned, the greedy sound shattered her last shred of restraint. She lowered her hands to his firm butt, and her emotions skidded and whirled, drawing a long, surrendering moan from her lungs. His hips ground against her, setting off fireworks behind her closed eyelids, and her back met the door, shocking her back to reality.
They were making out like horny teenagers on her front porch!
She reluctantly tore her mouth from his, instantly mourning the loss, and panted out, “We should go inside.”
He framed her face with his hands as he’d done earlier, his eyes storming with passion. “If I come in, there’s a chance I’ll get called away in the middle . . .”
Her entire body clenched in anticipation.
“I don’t want to do that to you,” he said. “I won’t do that to you. In an hour I won’t want to leave you even more than I don’t want to right now. But make no mistake about this. I want you, Talia, only you. I want you like I’ve never wanted a woman in my life. I want to be closer to you, to feel your naked body against mine. To become one with you in every sense.”
Yes . . . God, yes.
Her body shook with desire. She couldn’t speak, could barely think.
“My life is complicated, but I want to see you again and again and again,” he said. “Even if only for a few stolen minutes, an hour, whatever we can get. Maria is taking care of my father for a few hours tomorrow morning so I can run a few errands. Can I see you then?”
“I promised to go dress shopping with my sisters.” Her words came fast and breathless. “What about at night?”
“I have to work. Sunday? I’m taking my father to a museum. Come with us?”
She stifled the urge to accept right away, her brain slowly awakening. “Are you sure you don’t want that time alone with him?”
“Talia. My sweet, careful Talia,” he said softly. “I want you there. My life is always going to be complicated, and I know it’s another strange date request, so I’ll understand if you’d rather not—”
“No,” she said quickly. “I want to go. I just didn’t want to intrude.”
“Don’t worry, my careful girl,” he said sweetly. “You’re no intrusion. Are you ready for another great date starter? Would it be too much to ask you to meet us at my place? The museum is about half an hour from there, and the fewer changes to my father’s routine, the better.”
“I don’t mind at all.” She loved that he wasn’t embarrassed to ask for what he needed in order for his father to be comfortable. “Is there anything I should know before meeting him?”
Something akin to gratitude washed over him. “Sometimes he calls me Archie, when he thinks I’m his brother, and he might get agitated when we’re out. I never know when something will set him off, so we try to keep to a routine, but even that might not help. And he has moments of lucidity that are like glimpses into who he used to be. They’re gifts, and I treasure every single one of them.” He opened his hand and looked at it, his fingers curling slowly. “Those moments, they’re like sand slipping through my fingers. I try to hold on to them, and . . .” He shrugged, but the longing in his eyes told of his anguish. “What you really need to know is that he was a supportive father who fed my love of music and art and my passion for life. He was a loving husband to my mother and a hardworking man. The person you’ll meet is a shell of the man he once was.”
“If he did all those things for you, that part of him isn’t gone. It lives on inside you, and it’ll be an honor to meet him.”
He touched his lips to hers in another tummy-tumbling kiss. “Remind me to thank your family for distracting you enough to almost run me over.” He kissed her again, softer this time, as if he was weaning them off deeper kisses. “If you haven’t yet figured out that I’m not a charmed prince, you will soon.”
She couldn’t resist running her fingers through his hair. “Princes are given everything in life. I prefer a man who gives as much as he gets.”