Love at First Flight (20 page)

“Bring it on, but I warn you, it'll go
straight to my head.”

“Does the cut hurt?”

“No.”

“I asked the cops to get you some
Tylenol. It's over there if you need it.”

“Thanks.” She moved to the window to
check out the view of the harbor. “I figured your phone would be ringing
nonstop.”

“I shut it off.”

She turned to him. “Can you do that?”

He handed her a glass of wine. “Tom can
deal with the media tonight. That's why he's the boss. Feel better after the
shower?”

“Much better. Do you think it'll be on
the news?”

“It probably already is, but your name
won't be mentioned. Tom will see to that.”

“What does it mean for the trial?”

“I don't know, and right now I don't
care. I don't want to think about that.”

She ran a hand over his bare chest and
toyed with the St. Christopher medal he wore on a thin gold chain.

He trembled under her caress.

“I'm frightened for you, Michael. What
if they hurt you? Or worse? You're trying to put them in prison—”

“Don't.” He tipped her chin so he could
see her eyes. “Don't bring them into this room with us. I don't want them
anywhere near us. Not ever, but especially not tonight.” He kissed her. “Not
tonight,” he whispered. He took the wine glass from her and put it on a table.
Running his thumbs along her jaw, he slid his fingers into her hair. His lips
glided over hers in a soft, easy caress that quickly became passionate.

She loved him. He didn't have to wonder
or hope anymore. And when her arms encircled his neck and her tongue met his in
ardent response, he was lost. He picked her up, carried her across the room,
and laid her down on the big bed. With his eyes trained on hers, he kicked off
his pants, reached for the belt to her robe, and tugged it open.

He ran his hands over her reverently. “Oh,
Juliana,” he sighed, his lips pressed to her belly. “You're every fantasy I've
ever had come to life.”

He cupped her breasts and had to remind
himself that they had all night. She was so beautiful, so perfect in every way
that he resisted the urge to devour and took the time to savor. That she loved
him, too, was nothing short of a dream come true.
She
was a dream come true. He rolled his tongue over her pebbled
nipple, and she gasped with pleasure.

“You smell so good,” he said. “I don't
know what it is, but it turns me on like nothing ever has.”

She chuckled. “It's Aveda.”

“Mmm, I love Aveda.” Reluctantly leaving
her breasts for the time being, he kissed his way down, nudged her legs apart,
and nuzzled her with his lips and then his tongue. He teased her with short
caresses that had her panting for more and then deeper strokes that made her
moan. He kept it up until she was wild beneath him.

Finally, he focused his tongue on the spot
that pulsed with desire and slipped a finger into her.

Releasing another choppy moan, she
lifted her hips in encouragement and grabbed a fistful of his hair to keep him
there. It took only a few strokes of his tongue and finger to send her flying.

He looked up, startled to find her
cheeks wet with tears. “Juliana? Are you all right?”

She nodded and reached out to him.

“What is it?” he whispered against her
neck. He felt her fingers tunnel through his hair and was reminded of the first
time she had done that, the moment he knew for sure that he loved her. Lifting
his head, he found her eyes. 'Tell me.”

Biting her lip, she studied him. “You
know I want this—I want you—right?”

“I think so.”

“And that I love you? I really love you?”

“I'm still getting used to that one,” he
said with a smile, the wonder of it hitting him all over again. How had he ever
gotten so lucky?

She rested her hands on his face. “It's
just that I've never, you know, done... this—”

“With anyone else.”

“Yes.”

“And you're feeling guilty.”

“Kind of.”

Afraid she was retreating from him, he
leaned down to kiss her softly, gently. Ignoring his own urgent need, he said, “We
don't have to, Juliana. Not if it doesn't feel right to you.”

“But it does. It feels right.
You
feel right.”

Her hands traveled from his face to his
back and down to clutch to his backside.

He trembled with want, but still he held
back.

“Make love to me, Michael.” Lifting her
legs up and around his hips, she offered herself to him and smiled as she took
him in.

Fully sheathed in her heat, he was
swamped with the sensation of being exactly where he belonged. This was it.
She
was it. She was
the one
.

“Look at me, Juliana.” Their first time,
which could have been awkward, wasn't. They moved in effortless harmony, like a
couple together for years rather than weeks. “Don't look away. I want you to
see how much I love you.” He waited, held off, watched. He saw her eyes flutter
with fulfillment even before he felt it, but still he wouldn't let her look
away, wouldn't take the chance that she would think of anything—or
anyone
—but him in that moment.

Calling upon every ounce of self-control
he could muster, he drove her up and over once more before he let himself join
her in the most earth-shattering, mind-altering climax of his life. It left him
gasping for air, for reason, for sanity.

So... This was what it meant to make
love, to really and truly make love. He'd never before emerged from a sexual
encounter feeling so irrevocably changed.

“I love you, Juliana,” he whispered
against her neck. “There'll never be anyone but you for me. Not ever again.”

“I love you, too.” Her fingertips
trailed over his back as her lips found the sensitive place where his neck met
his shoulder.

He shivered. “What if we made a baby?”
he asked, unable to believe he hadn't thought of it before now. That, too, was
a first.

“I'm on the pill.”

“Damn.”

She laughed. “I thought you wanted to
leave the baby-making to your sisters.”

Raising his head so he could see her, he
said, “Not anymore.” He dropped light kisses on her cheeks, her nose, her chin,
and the butterfly on her forehead before he reclaimed her lips. “Tell me again,
Juliana. I need to hear it again.”

She looked into his eyes. “I love you,
Michael. I love you,” she whispered, bringing his mouth back to hers.

He rolled them over so she was on top. “Show
me.”

***

Her throbbing forehead woke Juliana at
five the next morning. As she eased out of Michael's embrace, reached for the
robe on the floor, and pulled it on, he sighed but didn't wake up. She found
the Tylenol he had gotten for her and swallowed the pills. Taking another long
drink from the bottle of water, she went over to the window.

The sunrise flirted with the horizon,
casting a warm glow over the Inner Harbor. From this vantage point, she
couldn't quite make out the salon on the far end of the shops and restaurants
that lined the harbor. The normally bustling waterfront was quiet and still.
Juliana had never seen it quite so tranquil.

Off in the distance she noticed one of the
party boats that populated the harbor and the Chesapeake Bay and was struck by
the memory of attending her senior prom with Jeremy on one of those boats.
Oh, Jer. What am I going to do?

She turned to look at Michael, and her
heart galloped when memories from their night together flashed through her
mind. Her body tingled as she recalled his intense lovemaking. She couldn't say
exactly why, but being with him had been different than being with Jeremy.
Maybe it was because of all they had been through in their short time together,
but she'd never felt more cherished in her life than she had in Michael's arms.
He made her feel as if she was the answer to every question he'd ever had.

Gazing back out over the harbor, Juliana
summoned the courage she would need to face what was ahead. Before much longer,
she would disappoint one of the two men she loved—one of the two men who loved
her. Mrs. Romanello had warned her that it would come down to a choice, and she
was exactly right.

Juliana was startled out of her thoughts
when Michael came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. He nudged her
hair aside to gain access to her neck.

“What are you doing up so early?”

Covering his hands with hers, she
trembled from what he was doing to her neck. “Couldn't sleep. What about you?”

“I couldn't find you.”

Against her back, she felt his arousal.

“Come with me,” he whispered.

With a last glance at the sunrise, she
let him take her to bed.

***

Michael held her close to him and tried
to catch his breath as his heart hammered in his chest. Would it always be like
this with her? What had been hot and passionate with Paige was all of that with
Juliana and so much more. “It's still early.” He kissed the top of her head. “Why
don't you try to go back to sleep for a while?”

She laughed softly. “You've got me
wide
awake.”

He propped himself up on one elbow. “Let's
get the hell out of here for the weekend, Juliana,” he pleaded. “I want to take
you to Rhode Island. Please go with me?”

After studying him for a moment, she
said, “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

She brought him down for a kiss. “I'll
have to bribe my brother to take care of my mother for the weekend, but he'll
do it.”

“Why don't we just get up now and go? I
have a couple of things I have to do, and then we can hit the road.”

“I'm going to take a quick shower.”

“I'll order us some breakfast.” He gave
her one last kiss before he released her. “Any preferences?”

“Whatever you're having is fine.”

Once again Michael was struck by the
differences between Juliana and Paige, who would've had a very specific
request. In just a few weeks with Juliana, the idea of being married to Paige
had become preposterous. He pulled on a pair of gym shorts, called in the room
service order, and opened the door to the hallway to get the paper.

“Morning, Mr. Maguire,” the police
officer on duty said. “Everything all right?”

“Yes. I'll need a lift to my house in
about an hour if that's okay.”

“Sure thing.”

“Thanks.”

Michael took the paper back into the
room and wasn't surprised to find a story about the vandalism to his house
above the fold on the front page of the
Baltimore
Sun
.

Benedetti
Prosecutor Victim of Vandalism

The
home of Michael Maguire, lead prosecutor in the ongoing murder trial of Marco
and Steven Benedetti, was vandalized on Thursday evening. A large rock was
thrown through the window of Maguire's Butchers Hill home. Maguire's roommate
suffered minor injuries. He was not home at the time.

The
Benedetti brothers face first-degree murder charges in the slayings of three
city teenagers a year ago. The trial, in recess today for an unrelated matter,
will resume next week in Baltimore City Circuit Court.

Police
refused to comment on whether the incident is related to the trial, nor would
they release any further details.

A
spokesman for Maguire's employer, Baltimore City State's Attorney Tom Houlihan,
had no comment.

Calls
to Circuit Court Judge Harvey Stein, who is presiding over the trial, were not
returned by press time.

Michael was relieved that Tom had
succeeded in keeping Juliana's name out of the story.

She came out of the bathroom. “Shower's
all yours.”

“The story is in the paper.” He handed
it to her. “No details, though.”

“Good.” But she winced as she scanned
the article. “It mentions your roommate was injured. I need to make a phone
call.” She dug her cell phone out of her purse. When she turned it on, it
beeped with multiple messages. She found the number she was looking for and
pressed send. “Hey, Mrs. R, it's me.” Pausing, she said, “It's just a tiny cut.
Honest.” Another pause. “We have cops all around us. There's nothing to worry
about. We're going out of town for the weekend, but I'll come by before we go,
okay?” Juliana nodded. “I will,” she said, closing her phone to end the call.

“What was that all about?” Michael asked
on his way to the shower.

“Our neighbor. She's like a mother to
me. She's the only one who knows I've been staying with you, so I knew she'd
panic when she saw the paper.”

“So you told someone about me, huh?” he
asked with a satisfied smile.

She grinned. “Go take a shower.” After
Michael closed the door, she called Vincent.

“What?”
he roared.