When Sparks Fly (6 page)

“Loren?” he repeated, his brows furrowing, wondering what his best friend had to do with anything.

As nonchalantly as possible, she moved to the sink to rinse out her mug. “Didn’t you have a date tonight?” Keeping her back to him, she squeezed her eyes shut waiting for his response.

“Not with Loren, I didn’t,” Joe answered, unable to keep the humor from his voice.

Just how many women was this guy seeing
? Opening her eyes, she dried the mug and put it back in the cabinet. Deciding to wash out his glass as well, she turned on the faucet, running the dish cloth around the rim where his lips had been just a moment before. “Oh, I thought I heard your mother mention something to that effect. Not that I’m trying to be nosy.”

She reached for the dish towel but he grabbed it first. Taking the glass from her hand, he dried it and put it away. “I went to Deuce’s tonight to shoot pool with Frankie and Loren.
He’s
my best friend; has been since kindergarten. That’s who called for me.” He studied her face, amused by the myriad of emotions that played across it.

“Oh, well, it wasn’t any of my business. I was just wondering….” She fidgeted as he took a step closer and before she knew it, he had wrapped the dish towel around her waist, pulling her to him.

“Would it bother you if I was out on a date?” he murmured, bringing his face close to hers while keeping his body just out of reach.

Gulping, she answered, “No, why should it? I mean, it’s not like we’re going out.” His lips were mere inches from hers and she could smell beer on his breath. There was another scent too, a masculine scent, fresh and sweaty at the same time. Her heart was pounding out of her chest and her nerves sizzled like a live wire. Every part of her body was aching for him to touch her but all he did was stare.

“What have you done to me?” he asked, moving his head to nuzzle her hair, sweeping it back away from her neck. His fingertips tingled as they brushed lightly against her skin and he could feel the blood rushing through his veins. “How can it be that I’ve known you for less than a day but it feels like you’ve been in my life forever?”

The feel of his breath against her head made her dizzy and she couldn’t think straight. Bringing her hands up, she wrapped them around his waist and pressed her body against his. She could feel his erection and her legs went weak with wanting him. She had never been this attracted to a man before, especially not one she’d just met, not even Phillip. What was wrong with her? Was she really that desperate for sex that she’d fall into bed with the first man who asked? But wait a minute, he hadn’t asked, had he? She was too overcome by the sensations running through her body to know what to think.

Joe groaned at the feel of her body against his. He tried to tell himself that it was purely a physical reaction; after all, how else would a red-blooded, not quite middle-aged, all-American man respond when he found himself with a beautiful, half-naked woman in his arms? All right, so she wasn’t half-naked, but close enough. He could feel all of her curves through her robe, and the heat emanating from her body told him that she was thinking along the same lines as he. But he wanted more than a one-night stand with her. He wasn’t sure how he knew that but he did.

Reluctantly disentangling himself from her arms, he felt empty as a rush of cold air took the place of her heat. Taking a deep breath, the scent of her lingering in his nostrils, he started to speak, stopped, then started again. “I’d better go. I have to be up early for a job tomorrow, well today.” He watched as disappointment flickered across her face and had to fight the urge to take her right there. Cupping her chin, he brushed his thumb over her cheek. “You’re beautiful, Monica Russo.”

Dropping his hand, he turned and walked out the door. Seconds later, she heard the engine of his truck start up then fade away as he drove to his apartment. Still standing by the sink, she hung the towel over the faucet, straightening the edges so they were even, her hand trembling slightly. Snapping off the stove light, she stood in the darkness reliving the past ten minutes with Joe. Ten minutes. The clock glowed 12:30 but it felt like he’d been here for hours, gently stroking her neck, his warm breath sending chills up her spine. She’d wanted him to kiss her, had come close to begging him to, but she knew that one kiss would do more than satisfy a temporary urge; it would shatter everything she was building for her and Kimber. She had little more than a week to get to California and set up her new life. There wasn’t time to be sidetracked by a fling with an attractive man. Oh shit, who was she kidding, Joe was sexy as hell.

Her libido had been in hibernation since well before the divorce when she’d walked in on Phillip screwing his secretary. Clichéd, but her ass of an ex had never been known for his originality. She’d filed the papers the next day but the process had been long and drawn out, and by the time all was said and done, having any sort of contact with any man was the last thing on her mind. Until this man. The moment he’d stopped to help her, hormones had awoken, and tonight they’d kicked into overdrive. If she wasn’t careful, she’d find herself giving in to temptation and that was the last thing she needed.

A peek out the window at his apartment showed that all was quiet and she figured he’d gone to bed. He’d mentioned having to be up early for work…she didn’t even know what he did for a living. She should go to bed, too. It had been a long day and Kimber was usually up at the first crack of dawn, which, in late June, meant damn early.

Quietly walking back to the guest room, she slipped inside, pausing to listen to the steady breathing of her daughter. After a quick trip to the bathroom, she slid between the sheets, letting her mind wander.
This is temporary. We’ll be back on the road in a few days and our stay here will be nothing more than a memory of our trip.
Wrapping her arms around her sleeping child she drifted off to sleep, wondering what kind of memory she would end up taking with her.

‡
Chapter Four

“I have some errands to run after breakfast. If you’d like, dear, I can drop you off downtown. There are some nice shops on the square, and the park isn’t too far,” Fran offered, sliding a plate of sliced melon and toast in front of Monica.

Popping a chuck of cantaloupe in her mouth, she took a minute to relish the sweet flavor before responding. “Thank you. If you’re sure it won’t be too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all. In fact, Joe’s working in the park today. He can bring you home when you’re ready.”

The sound of his name brought back the memory of the night before, of him standing in this very kitchen, his erection pressed against her, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. In an attempt to dispel the image, she lifted her coffee cup to the mouth and took a sip, only to yelp when she scalded her tongue.

“You might want to let it cool a bit,” Fran cautioned, setting a plate of scrambled eggs on the table. “Bill, your eggs are getting cold!”

“I heard you the first time, woman. You don’t have to shout.” Patting his wife on the butt as he walked past, he sat down and gave Monica a wink. “Don’t know what I’d do without my love-bug. She sure knows how to take care of me.”

“Oh, posh!” Fran replied, swatting him on the shoulder. “Eat your breakfast.” Though she pretended to be annoyed, she beamed as she looked at her husband and he beamed back. There was no doubt how much they loved each other and Monica wondered if she’d ever find a love like that. She’d never had anything close with Phillip.

“Are you finished, honey?” she asked Kimber, who had made short work of her stack of hotcakes. At her nod, Monica said, “Then go wash up, okay? I’ll be there in a minute to braid your hair. We don’t want to keep Grandma Fran waiting.” Chuckling to herself over the use of the nickname, she picked up the little girl’s plate and fork, stacking them on her own, and brought them over to the sink. Turning on the water, she began to wash only to have Fran take the dish cloth out of her hand.

“I can do that. You go take care of that precious child of yours.”

“I don’t mind,” Monica protested. “I want to help out. I don’t want us to be extra work for you.” Attempting to take the cloth, she pulled but the older woman held on, and for a brief moment they had a bizarre game of tug-of-war.

“You’d do well to give up,” Bill counseled from the sidelines. “My Frannie always gets her way.”

Recognizing the futility of her efforts, she released her grip and relinquished the dish cloth. Laughing at the victorious smile on Fran’s face, she shook her head and went in search of her daughter. Ten minutes later they reappeared, Kimber’s hair in pigtails as promised. The kitchen was sparkling clean, Fran was nowhere to be seen, and Bill had taken up residence on the porch swing to read the newspaper.

Spotting him through the glass on the French doors, Kimber ran out and scrambled up next to him, wasting little time in convincing him to turn to the funny pages. Snuggling into the crook of his arm, the little girl listened with rapt attention while he entertained her with the antics of a bald-headed boy and his beagle. Leaving the pair to the comics, Monica walked down the steps and into the yard, intent on exploring the grounds.

Various flowerbeds dotted the landscape, masses of blooms generating an explosion of color. One bed held nothing but Gerbera daisies, her favorite, while others showcased zinnias, cosmos, and different varieties of roses. Obvious thought had gone into the placement of shade trees on the property; wrought iron garden benches and wooden lounge chairs set under the sprawling branches beckoned visitors to sit a spell. Pink, red, and white impatiens grew at the bases, and she could picture herself on a hot summer afternoon, curled up on one of those chairs sipping iced tea and reading a book.

Stone pathways winding through the lush lawn invited further investigation, and she followed one that led behind the house. It ended at a brick fire pit, charred logs in the center an indication of recent use. Hand hewn logs carved into chairs provided seating, and tiki torches were spaced evenly around the perimeter, serving as both a light source and bug repellent. She could imagine a family gathered here at night, toasting marshmallows for s’mores, laughing and telling stories, children chasing fireflies to keep in Mason jars beside their beds. There weren’t many fireflies in the city, and it saddened her that Kimber had never taken part in what she considered to be a timeless childhood tradition.

Noticing how close she was to the garage, Monica couldn’t resist snooping. Shading her eyes against the glare, she peered through the window. The Excursion was parked in the right space; the left one was empty and she ventured a guess that was where Joe parked his truck. The rest of the garage appeared tidy, tools hanging neatly from a pegboard on the wall.

Roaming around to the side of the building she saw a set of stairs leading to the apartment above. She placed her hand on the railing, feeling a little wicked, like she was about to do something forbidden. Up there was where Joe lived; where he ate and slept and watched TV. Where he cooked and cleaned and entertained women. Frowning at this last thought, she shook her head to erase the image from her mind. Hearing voices, she turned to see Kimber and Fran walking hand in hand towards the garage.

“Ready to go?” Fran asked, raising the door with a button on her key fob.

“All set,” Monica answered, standing to one side with her daughter while the woman backed the vehicle out. She waited until the Excursion had stopped then opened the back door, astonished to see Kimber’s booster seat strapped in place. “How did this get here?”

“Joe stopped by Frankie’s this morning and picked it up. He thought you might want to get out of the house and knew you’d need it.”

Buckling the little girl in, Monica smiled at his thoughtfulness. “I’ll have to remember to tell him ‘thank you’,” she said, slipping into the passenger seat.

“He’d appreciate that,” his mother commented, a sly smile on her face. Waving to her husband who was still on the porch with his paper, she pulled down the long drive and headed to town.

Though she hadn’t gotten much sleep, Monica was more alert than she had been the day before, and she and Fran kept up a steady conversation. Even Kimber joined in from time to time, pointing out a herd of cows grazing in a field, and squealing when she spotted an ice cream truck. In seemingly no time at all, they arrived at the town square and Fran pulled the Excursion to the curb.