Chapter 6
Brisk, night air greeted him when work let out, and too restless to go home, he decided to take the half hour drive and visit his parents in Port Washington. He didn’t care to be alone right now, needed to talk someone.
Pulling up to the familiar brick, ranch-style house, he smiled. Flowers in every color bordered the narrow driveway. A welcome friends flag with various birds hung near the front door. Noting the silver van parked in the driveway, he knew at least his mom was home.
He glanced over at Emma’s old house next door and smiled. The cozy yellow Cape Cod with attached one car garage looked the same as when she and her mom lived there. The grin on his face grew as he looked toward the top left window.
Emma’s old bedroom, and he could still picture her. Gauzy white curtains drawn back as she’d study him, one hand resting on her chin, and a moon-eyed expression on her face. She’d been absolutely adorable.
Realizing he was getting carried away, he shook his head and exited his vehicle.
The door was unlocked as he went to open it. “Mom?”
“Patrick, honey? Is that you?”
His mother’s sweet voice and the warmth of the tiny kitchen enveloped him as one. Surrounded by the smells of fresh-baked bread, homemade brownies, and beef stew made him take an appreciate whiff. Ambient relaxing music played in the background. Her snowy white cat, Fly Girl, nuzzled her head against his leg. He smiled and knelt down, briefly giving her a loving scratch behind the ear.
He stood to greet his mom, kissing an upturned cheek. “Hi, Mom.”
She wiped her hands on a kitchen towel before setting it aside. Grasping him around the neck, she pulled him in for a hug. “How are you doing?”
He nodded. “Just fine. Thought I’d come out and pay you a visit. See how you’ve been. Hey, is Mrs. McCallen still living next door?”
The words were out, but he wished them back. He hoped his mom wouldn’t see more into the question.
Catrine Taylor held either side of his face, and probably saw right through him, as if possessing mind-reading power. Moms, especially his, had an uncanny way of doing that.
“No, she moved to the country. It’s been a few years now. Why do you ask?”
He shrugged. “No reason.”
She grinned a sly, knowing grin, but refrained from further comment. Silently, she went about fixing two cups of tea, and took a seat at the table.
“How’s the new job of yours going?” she asked.
He joined her, taking a sip of the soothing liquid. “Fine.”
She appraised him and pursed her lips, as if she knew there was more, but didn’t want to probe. “Dinner will be ready soon. Are you hungry?”
“Thanks, but no,” he said, and took another sip.
Thoughts of Emma played on repeat in his mind, inappropriate ones he had no business thinking about in front of his mother, but he couldn’t stop them from coming. Memories that burned like a brushfire in the forest, destroying everything in its path, but damn, he’d willingly traveled into the fire.
“Tell me about her.”
Patrick looked up, greeting her gaze. “Emma.”
“Emma McCallen? The sweet girl who used to live next door?” She teasingly winked one eye between sips.
Embarrassing heat prickled and set his entire neck on fire. Nobody, except Mike, knew what really happened between them years ago, and the passing of time only intensified his feelings. Picturing the voluptuous, beautiful, spirited woman she was now, and replaying the kiss over, and over again. His hunger for her took on its own life force.
“Yes, Mom, but that was a long time ago.”
“So, why mention her now?”
He let out a deep breath. “We work together. She’s my new co-worker on a large project.”
Her eyebrows shot up to greet her graying hairline. She brought the mug to her lips, hiding an amused grin. “I see. Well, is she married, got a boyfriend?”
He shook his head. “No, Mom, nothing like that. I like her, a lot.”
There, he’d said it, but wasn’t about to go into great detail other than that.
There were some things you just didn’t tell your own mom.
“Ask her out then.”
“I did, but she keeps turning me down. She said it would be too awkward since we work together.”
Then you probably shouldn’t have kissed her either, you idiot.
Damn it, but the woman had been irresistible. The kiss, and more that was sure to follow, was inevitable.
He stood, if only to scatter the wicked thoughts from his mind. He needed to focus, not daydream like some lovesick buffoon.
Out of habit he went to open the fridge and survey its contents. A photo affixed to the fridge door stopped him cold, as chills shot through his spine.
Laura.
A photo of him and Laura, she’d only been around four or five months pregnant. He remembered the lovely spring day at the park, and how she’d glowed. Stunning in a flowing summer dress, and jean jacket. Briefly, he closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. It was their engagement photo. His heart pounded, and heavy dread infiltrated, burned his lungs, and singed his veins.
He opened his eyes and pressed a shaky finger toward her smiling face. Her dark-brown hair wavy, and past her shoulders, and a sunny smile aimed at him, as she gazed into his face. Her deep brown eyes sparkled, pouring out love. He recalled she’d been unaware of the photographer, of anybody else, only aware of him, and with that lost thought, tears misted, and gathered in his eyes, sliding down his cheeks, and he’d lost the battle. His shoulders slumped, and body went lax as he released the handle of the fridge.
A reassuring palm pressed against his back, rubbing back and forth. His mom didn’t speak but offered strength and support.
“Why didn’t God take me instead?” He shook his head, hating the shakiness in his voice. He hated the guilt carried with him too, even after all this time.
He drew his hand away from the photo and covered his face. Humiliation coursed through him for losing his shit.
He could hear her clear her throat.
“I don’t have an answer, honey. It hit us all hard, and we still think of Laura, and our granddaughter, Abigail, often.” The words were spoken softly, but he could hear the quaver, the tears clogging her throat and coating her words.
“Come here, sweetie,” she soothed, turning him gently toward her.
His unborn child’s name spoken out loud pushed him over the edge, and without hesitating, he wrapped his arms around her. The tears fell even more freely, as she continued rubbing his back and offering words of comfort. Emotions, which had clogged his heart, and haunted his dreams, came out as he openly wept. She didn’t speak, and only hugged him tighter.
Finally, the tears abated, and she turned him toward her. Smiling, she brushed the tears away from his face. “Are you hungry?”
Patrick’s stomach answered for him, letting out a fierce growl.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
~ ~ ~
The next morning, Emma set her briefcase down and booted up her computer.
She’d come in earlier than normal, with two things in mind, to attempt to gather her thoughts and catch up on emails. Part of her wanted to ask Patrick out, but another part of her was scared. Absentmindedly, she drummed her fingers on the desk, and looked up in time to see Patrick strolling toward her door with a smile on his handsome face. She noticed how the heather-gray suit wonderfully complemented his solid frame.
“Good morning, Emma,” he said.
Damn this man. Coming back, upsetting the happy balance she’d carved out for herself. He’d come back and turned everything topsy-turvy.
Admit it, Emma. You’re having a great time.
“Hi there, Patrick.”
Entering, he shut the door part way, and took a seat on the edge of her desk. “Look,” he began, staring at the floor and scratching the back of his neck. “I’m sorry things got a little. Carried away a couple days ago.”
The back of her neck burned as flashbacks of how she’d initiated the kiss, grasping his lapels, and forcefully drawing him forward. Even in memory, such thoughts made her pulse beat a rapid tattoo.
“I appreciate that, Patrick, but there is no need to apologize. I’m as much as fault as you are. We both got carried away,” she said, in as even a tone as she could muster.
He smiled as a cuter-than-hell blush stained his cheeks, but he didn’t speak.
Just do it, Emma, bite the bullet.
Before she lost her nerve, she blurted, “Would you like to go out Saturday night?”
Genuine delight came over his features, and his smile grew wider. “I’d love to. Pick you up at six?”
Excitement churned in her belly. “Sounds good. Since we’re both here early, shall we get to work?”
~ ~ ~
Emma double-checked her appearance in the mirror that night. The week had gone quickly, and tonight was the night.
She smoothed damp hands down her little black dress just as the doorbell rang.
Seconds passed, then the door opened, closed, and errant chatter sounded. Spurring into action, she sat at the edge of the bed, and slipped on her stiletto heels. After grabbing her purse, she opened the bedroom door, and made her way down the hall.
Crossing the threshold, she stopped. Transfixed at the sight of his backside, she took free reign to stare. He wore a white button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up partway, navy-blue slacks, and a black leather jacket. She couldn’t stop staring . . . when suddenly he turned around.
She drew a sharp breath but didn’t remove her gaze. It drifted toward the two buttons, undone, giving her the briefest view of delightfully bare skin. That skin taunted her to walk over, lean in, lick, and savor.
Someone cleared her throat, rather loudly, drawing her attention upward. She met Patrick’s amused expression, and behind him, Sarah, shaking her head and covering a grin.
Oh, joy. The night was already off to a wonderful start. Caught red-handed, staring at him with a no doubt, carnivorous expression on her face.
“Good evening, Patrick.”
He inclined his head. “Emma.”
“Let’s make our way out, shall we?”
With this, they left the apartment, Sarah smiling and waving behind them.
They stepped out into the balmy night, and he went to open the passenger’s side door for her. Thanking him, she slid in, luxuriating in the feel of the cool leather seats.
He got behind the wheel, shut the door, and they were off. Silence engulfed the small space, not even the sound of music to distract. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him, and subtly took a small whiff. The scent of his cologne clung to the air. Turning her gaze forward, she tried focusing on other things. Judging by the route, he was headed toward Downtown Milwaukee.
She watched people on the sidewalk, girlfriends linked arm in arm, an elderly woman walking her dog, a young couple closing the local deli for the night. The semi-warm spring air drawing people out of their homes, as the slowly sinking sun dipped into the blue-pink haze of the sky.
A touch on her knee drew her eyes toward her lap, where she spotted his hand on her knee. Briefly, she closed her eyes. She maintained her silence, for fear of something stupid slipping out. Her breath hitched as he moved a little higher, caressing her thigh. His skillful fingers rubbed back and forth. His touch sent wonderful sensations coursing through her veins.
“You look—wow—damned good tonight, Emma.” His voice traveled straight to her core.
“Thank you, Patrick.” She kept her tone calm and moved her gaze forward.
They arrived at their destination, a lovely little Italian restaurant overlooking the Milwaukee skyline. He withdrew his hand, although the memory of his touch remained a warm, satisfying imprint on her skin.
If she didn’t gather her hormones, it would be a long and uncomfortable night, indeed.
~ ~ ~
Fuck. Patrick couldn’t keep his eyes, or his hands, off Emma. The moment he’d turned around at her apartment and caught her bold stare, he knew the woman would kill him.
And that little black dress, lacy, off the shoulder, hugged curves, and a shapely derriere to perfection. All the way the way up, showcasing the barest hint of cleavage, down to lovely legs in black stiletto heels. His blood thundered, and it would be a tall order to keep his thoughts from wandering to dirty places, all the places he longed to see.
Damn, but the way he’d caught her staring, openly appraising, and biting that sexy, plump lower lip of hers . . . Thinking God knew what, but by the look on her face? It wasn’t the least bit pure.
His mind conjured an entirely too appealing fantasy of taking her back to his apartment, laying her on his bed, stripping her bare, and making sweet love to her. His entire body on fire for Emma, and the knowledge that she wanted him, too, did nothing to help his situation.
Whoa, boy, get a hold of yourself or you won’t survive the evening.
Within moments, they were seated outdoors under a gazebo. Warm air blew her blonde tendrils around her face, as it fell in pretty waves around her shoulders. She looked so lovely that he had difficulty removing his stare.
The waitress gave them menus and a couple glasses of water before allowing them a few moments. He made short work of looking it over, just as the waitress came back to take their orders, and they were alone once more.
“So, tell me how the last few years have treated you, Emma.” He took a sip of his water, needing a distraction. Because let’s face it. Emma was one hell of a distraction.
She fidgeted with her water glass before she met his gaze. “Well, I was dating a guy for a couple years, but, we ended up separating.” Her next words were directed toward the table. “He cheated on me.”
He felt sucker punched and couldn’t fathom someone hurting Emma in such a way.
Patrick didn’t know who this asshole ex-boyfriend was, but he knew for sure. If he had the chance to do it all over again, he’d make it right, and wouldn’t have disregarded her. He’d treat her like the goddess she was.
Even if he was curious, and knew there was more, reading by her body language, he would not delve further.
He noted her fidgeting, fingers fumbling with the napkin on the table, and eyes down cast in shame. As if for some reason she thought her ex had every right to behave that way.
“I’m so sorry, Emma. He was a fucking fool.”
She raised her eyes toward his, a small smile gracing her lips. “Thank you, but it is what it is. What about you, Patrick?”
Taking a few sips of water, he gathered himself before speaking. “I haven’t had too many relationships since college. Nothing serious until I met Laura.” He winced slightly when her name crossed his lips.
“Oh?”
“We were engaged and had a baby on the way. Laura, and the baby, were killed in a car accident by a drunk driver.”
She gasped. He could almost see the moisture gather in her eyes, which was something he didn’t want: anybody’s pity.
The waitress brought the meals, and he was thankful. Perfect timing, because God, he hoped she didn’t ask any more questions. He wasn’t in the mood to discuss it.
He didn’t want to talk about the beautiful day as they drove to the baby shower, and how he’d been holding her belly, felt their baby kicking only seconds before the truck slammed into the passenger’s side. The pain was something he’d done a good job of stuffing down, and buried in the depths of his broken, hollow soul.
As if to read his mind, she somberly nodded. “I’m sorry to hear that, Patrick.”
As if she sensed his discomfort, she let the subject drop and began discussing other things.
They spent the rest of their time talking about work, college, and future plans. He could read the relaxation in her body as the night drew on. She leaned back in her seat, laughed at his jokes, and listened to his stories. She’d also ordered a third glass of wine, and it proved distracting. The more she drank, the gigglier she became. The graceful, alluring expanse of her neck conjured an image of Emma in the throes of passion. Her neck exposed to his greedy lips.
He cleared his throat to push away the maddening image.
When they’d finished, he grabbed the check, and an idea hit him.
“How would like to take a walk over by the pier?”
She smiled. “I’d like that.”
~ ~ ~
Stuffed, and a little too delirious from the wine, he parked the car moments later, and they exited.
The clear night’s balmy breeze was pure heaven against her skin, as the inky blue-black sky showcased twinkling stars.
“I had a nice time tonight, Emma.”
“Thank you, Patrick. I did too.”
As they made their way to the pier, she leaned against the railing and crossed her arms. She kept her stare toward the darkened water, watching boats bob up and down, swaying against the rippling waves. Her mind recalled his discomfort for part of the dinnertime conversation. She could read it in his body language. She understood. He had a wound he’d rather have left alone.
Shaking the dark thoughts loose, she observed the beautiful moon, high and full as it hung in the night sky, casting a beautiful mirror against the water.
Aware of his nearness, she kept her eyes averted, and knew if she turned her head, she’d come face to face with him. The thought scattered goose bumps across her arms, and she nonchalantly brushed them away.
“Cold?”
“Just a little.” She lied, too ashamed to admit the real reason.
He removed his jacket, and she turned toward him, allowing him to drape it over her shoulders. His scent surrounded her. Old Spice, cologne, fresh laundry, and Patrick, a heady combination she found completely irresistible.
Her mouth parted as magnetic, beautiful emerald greens drew her in, and he continued holding her gaze. She felt wanton, carefree, but desperately wanted the night to end with a good morning. Even as dark memories of her past loomed, she dashed them away.
“Is that better?” he murmured.
Her mouth felt dry, like parchment paper sitting out in the sun. “Much,” was all she could manage, licking her lips in a vain attempt to draw moisture.
Moonlight and Patrick was an intoxicating combination.
His eyes drifted toward her mouth, and he placed a finger underneath her chin, tilting her mouth toward his. She leaned closer and took the unspoken invitation. Thankful for the shadows of the night, she pressed her body against his, and claimed his lips. Wrapping her arms around his neck, he continued to tease. His mouth hungry against hers, and she decided right then and there.
His kisses would kill her.