Falling Again (4 page)

In less than fifteen minutes she had the details of what had happened in City Hall and knew Sam believed someone who worked in the building brought in the weapon, because security remembered clearing the shooter and he had definitely not been armed.

She waited for Sam to say something about Nick being in D.C. When he didn’t, Fiona was very careful not to let him know she was sitting across a restaurant table from his brother-in-law. Her two evenings spent with Nick would stay her secret until she figured out what he wanted and whether anyone at all needed to know.

The wedding on Saturday was lovely. The bride, who had roomed with Fiona for a couple of years when they were both starting out in Portland before moving to the East Coast for a job on Capitol Hill, looked radiant and the groom handsome. The ceremony was everything it was supposed to be—joyful, festive, celebratory.

Leaving the church, Fiona cornered Hank Lewis to continue the conversation from the evening before. He gave her a couple ideas on rocks to turn over, but eventually Fiona felt sorry for the woman he was with, who’d never even been to Portland, much less been involved in the city’s local politics, and moved on.

Sitting in a coffee shop killing time between the noon wedding and the two o’clock reception, she got a text from Nick asking how the wedding had gone. He was off to the artist reception for his show opening in Alexandria himself.

Hmm, what if she went back to D.C. this afternoon instead of the next day? She could surprise Nick at the gallery. Maybe have dinner with him. She had the rest of the weekend free; he’d said he did. It was tempting.

Two evenings with him had convinced her there was something between them; something that might be worth exploring. She still wasn’t sure why he had sought her out. Maybe he needed to occupy his time between assignments and she was conveniently in town. That wouldn’t be all that bad, now that she thought about it. No complications. No messy emotions. Not the worst way to get back out in the world after more than a year of self-imposed isolation.

The signals were all there saying he was interested. She didn’t think she was so rusty she’d misinterpreted him. She was sure by now he wasn’t doing a favor for his sister. Among other reasons, wouldn’t Sam have mentioned it if his wife was behind the meet-up?

And she doubted his sister would have asked him to hold her hand or put his arm around her, much less give her good-night kisses that left her breathless and wanting more. Maybe tonight…

The thought of what “more” might mean made the decision for her—if the hot, young guy was interested, so was she. She might not live a life as exciting as a world-traveling photographer but she wasn’t foolish enough to walk away from the chance to spend time with someone who seemed attracted to her regardless of her travel experience. She’d put in an appearance at the reception, say hello to the bride and groom, eat wedding cake, and then head back to D.C.

The drive back to Washington gave her plenty of time to think about her impulsive decision. Halfway there she began to have serious doubts. Maybe she was kidding herself thinking he was interested. Maybe it would be better to go back to her hotel. Maybe she could get her room back a day early. An infinite loop of the reasons she shouldn’t do what she was about to do ran through her head: he was a kid; he’d have other plans for the evening.

Oh, God, maybe he had a date. There was a possibility she hadn’t considered.

Should she call him and see if it was okay to drop in? Just outside the city, she pulled over at a rest stop and tried calling but got his voicemail, texted him and sat watching the screen for fifteen minutes before acknowledging it was likely he wasn’t paying attention to his phone.

She decided to cruise by the gallery and see if he appeared to be dateless, then make up her mind about going in. If it didn’t look good, she’d head to Capitol Hill.

Arriving in Alexandria, she located the address and parked a block away. Casually strolling past the place, she glanced in, not sure what she would see or how he would react.

She needn’t have worried. Nick spied her before she could get past the large front display window, broke off the conversation he was having with an older couple and came out the door.

Putting his arm around her shoulders, he kissed her. “This makes the evening even better,” he said before leading her inside. His obvious pleasure calmed her last vestige of fear about his not wanting her there.

His exhibit was a series of black-and-white images he’d taken on a trip to Israel and Palestine with a peace group eighteen months before. He started to explain them to her but was interrupted by the gallery owner, who wanted him to meet a couple who’d just purchased one of the photographs.

On her own Fiona perused the exhibit. His skill and sensitivity in showing the impact of the long-running conflict on the lives of people on both sides of the issue, without advocating for either, moved her. And shooting the images as he did seemed an interesting choice for a subject so clearly not black and white. Although having once seen the photos shot that way, she couldn’t imagine them otherwise.

Maybe there was more to this man—not to mention what he did for a living—than she gave him credit for. Nick’s images brought her to understand the conflict on an emotional level in a way all the millions of words written about it had not.

After she looked over the exhibit, she watched him. She admired the easy manner he had with total strangers, some of whom didn’t seem to know much about either the subject or the art form. She liked the way he handled the questions he was asked about his work—most of them, she noticed, repeats of the ones he’d just answered five minutes before.

At seven, the art gallery owner said, “We’re done here for the evening, Nick. It seemed to go well, don’t you think?”

“It did, thanks to your mailing list.” He motioned to Fiona. “Adam, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, Fiona McCarthy. Fiona, Adam Healy.”

“I like your gallery, Adam,” Fiona said as they shook hands.

“Thank you. And thank you for coming to Nick’s reception. Now why don’t the two of you go have a drink or something?”

“Any recommendations on a place to eat nearby?” Nick asked.

“Nostrano. An Italian place about two blocks away. You’ll love it.”

“Sound good to you, Fee?”

Fiona usually hated to have her name shortened but somehow she couldn’t find it in her to complain when Nick did it. “Sounds great.”

• • •

They were just about finished with their coffee and tiramisu when Nick said, “Thank you for coming back early to see my exhibit. I was surprised—and happy—to see you.”

She ducked her head, not wanting to meet his eyes as she said, “Well, I didn’t know many people at the reception. And your exhibit sounded so interesting when you talked about it. Besides, there were some other things I thought I could do back in the District.” When she looked up, his expression was beyond sexy, the bedroom eyes with lids at half-mast, the tip of his tongue flicking over his upper lip as if lapping up the last bit of cream from a saucer.

“Oh?” he asked. “What were the other things you wanted to do? I’d be really interested in knowing.” The tone of his voice was low and intimate.

“Yes, I…uh…well, there’s…” She stopped, not sure how to continue the conversation, wanting to say he drew her back, not his work, but afraid to tell him in case it was a mistake.

He let the silence build for a few long moments before saying, “Maybe I can finish the sentence for you. You came back early because you feel the same electricity between us that I do, and you want to find out what we can do about it.”

Gulping hard, she nodded; words still out of reach for her.

He took her hand as he continued, “And you thought since I’d told you I was free for the rest of the weekend, I might be interested in doing the same.”

Another nod.

“Then why are we sitting here when I have a perfectly good apartment waiting where we can satisfy our curiosity?”

She followed him to his neighborhood, then wasted a frustrating five minutes looking for a parking place. At the point where she would have double-parked and the ticket be damned, she found a place. Nick was waiting outside his building when she finally got there, took her hand without saying another word, and together they went up the steps to his apartment. When they got inside, she could feel her heart rate kick into a gear previously unknown to her and her breathing become almost audible.

Dear God, he’d barely touched her and she was a puddle of desire.

Putting his hands on her shoulders he said, “We can go as fast or as slow as you want, Fee. I want to do what you want to do.”

She answered him by bringing his mouth to hers, brushing her lips over his, back and forth, side to side, teasing, asking him for more. He pulled her into his arms and she relaxed against him, a soft moan coming from the back of her throat as he took control of the kiss. Shifting his body backward slightly, he pulled her onto her tiptoes and hard against him where she could feel his growing erection.

When he had her where he seemed to want her, he moved his hands up her back and into her hair. Without any urging from him, she parted her lips to let him in, their tongues doing a slow, sensual dance around each other. He found the place at the corners of her mouth that made her gasp and moan again, nibbled at her lower lip as though she was more dessert for him to savor.

Eventually, reluctantly, she pulled away so she could get some oxygen to her heated brain. “Should we continue this here or…?” he asked, leaving the question open and the decision to go to his bedroom to her.

Her hands flat on his chest, she smiled up at him and said, “I hear there’s a big-screen TV someplace other than the living room. Why don’t you show it to me?”

“I have something else in mind to show you, but we can start there,” he said, taking her hand again.

He had turned toward his bedroom when she stopped him. “There’s one thing you should know.”

“Unless you’re married to an armed and dangerous man who’s found his way to the building looking for you, I can’t think of anything else I need to know.”

“Seriously, Nick.”

He looked like he was trying to control his mouth from breaking out in a smile. “Okay. Seriously, Fee.”

“It’s been a very long time since…well, since the last time. I might be a big disappointment to you.”

He let the smile appear. “I hear it’s like riding a bike. It comes back to you very quickly. Besides, you don’t kiss like someone who’ll disappoint me.” To prove his point, he claimed her mouth in another scorching kiss before pulling her to the bedroom.

When they got there he turned on the bedside light and waved at the TV. “There it is, a big TV as advertised, although there’s nothing I want to see right now…well, nothing on television. There’s my desk, which holds no interest for me either. But this,” he bounced onto the bed and then up again before pulling back an indigo blue patterned quilt to reveal crisp looking white sheets, “I am in the mood for doing something here. How about I get you comfortable so we can figure out what it is?”

She nodded agreement, afraid to speak for fear she’d be unable to form a coherent sentence. Slowly, almost reverently, he began undressing her, kissing her neck as he slipped off her jacket. Then, as he unzipped the back of her dress, he took her earlobe between his teeth and gently tugged at it before running his tongue over the ridges of her ear. Holding onto his arms for support, shivering with desire, she felt her knees begin to wobble dangerously as he blew his warm breath over her damp ear.

How—or when—he unhooked her bra, she wasn’t sure but suddenly it was on the floor with her jacket and dress and she was left in her heels and panties. He lowered her onto the bed, then knelt by her to remove her shoes.

It was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen, him on his knees, his eyes hot with desire, the tip of his tongue visible as he concentrated on unbuckling and unwrapping the straps on her shoes from around her ankles. She felt like Cinderella. Except, of course, Cindy was trying the shoes on, not having them taken off. And was dressed. And anticipating sex wasn’t part of it, at least not in the Disney version.

When both shoes were off, he stood up and began to undress. He held her gaze as he shed the leather vest and white shirt he wore, revealing the most beautiful chest she’d ever seen, a testament to a well-used gym membership maybe, or toting around heavy photography equipment. All she knew was she wanted to feel the hardness against her breasts and her fingers were itching to trace the valleys between those muscles.

After toeing off his shoes, his trousers and shorts were off. She wasn’t surprised his abs were as impressive as his chest. Not to mention his erection. Here was yet another part of him her fingers wanted to touch.

Just before he slid under the sheet with her he opened the drawer to the bedside table and pulled out condoms. She wondered if he’d been planning this or was always prepared just in case. The thought was gone in seconds as he pulled her body against his, pressing his erection against her abdomen. They would need them. He was prepared. That’s all that mattered.

As he rained kisses from her temple to the corner of her mouth and on to the hollow of her throat, she rocked her hips against his and was rewarded by a deep, guttural sound in his throat. Emboldened by the groan, she ran her hand down his abdomen, reaching for what she’d wanted to touch since she’d seen him strip off his boxers.

He stopped her hand. “As good as I know it would feel, you’d better not or I’m likely to embarrass myself and neither one of us will have a very good time.” He gave her a quick kiss on the nose and a half smile as he released her hand.

She grinned at him. “Must be what I get for fooling around with a sweet young thing.”

He kissed the smile away, seeming to ignore what she’d said, and moved his hand tantalizingly slowly down her belly, the feel of his mouth and his hand clouding her mind, increasing the need to have him touch her in the most sensitive place on her body, where she was aching to feel him.