Loving Again: Book 2 in the Second Chance series (Crimson Romance) (4 page)

“About that,” she said as she pulled an iPhone out of her small purse.

His expression went from warm affection to cool distance and he sat back in the booth, watching her. “It’s okay. If you can’t do dinner, we can just talk until we finish the wine. At least I’ll have had a chance to see you … ”

“Stop over-analyzing, Detective Richardson. I’m not looking at the time because I’m planning to ditch you, I’m figuring out how long it’s been since I let the beast out.”

“What beast?”

“Chihuly.”

“Dale Chihuly, the famous glass artist?” He sounded confused.

“No, Chihuly my curly coated retriever puppy. He and all his litter mates were named for people with curly black hair.”

The affectionate smile was back. “And how is it having a puppy to take care of?”

“A challenge. Among other things, he chews on anything he can get his mouth around when he’s been left alone too long. Which is why I’m looking at the time.” She slipped the phone back into her purse. “Why don’t you come home with me while I take care of him and then we can eat in the neighborhood?”

• • •

Chihuly and Sam were introduced. The dog was walked, watered and fed. Her shoes now safe from her pet’s mouth for another couple hours, Amanda led Sam to the Italian restaurant a block away. After they’d ordered, she said, “You haven’t asked the obvious question yet about whether I’m coming back to Portland. How come?”

“Thought I’d enjoy the evening before I hear the answer I think I already know.” He took a sip of wine. “I don’t know that I’ve ever seen you look this happy. And I can hear the excitement when you talk about your work. It must have been a great residency.”

“Beyond my wildest dreams. You saw some of the work tonight. It’ll take years to exhaust what I learned there.”

“So, let’s put off the bad news ’til I kiss you good night.”

“What makes you think that’s gonna happen, Sam?”

He picked up his wine glass and took another swallow, avoiding her eyes. “I guess I’m not surprised. Your emails lately could have been sent by my sister and we haven’t talked in a week or so.” He swirled the wine in his glass for a few moments, then sat up and turned to face her. “On second thought, might as well get it over with. I assume you won’t be coming back to Portland. That right? ”

She smiled at him. Tore a piece from the baguette in the breadbasket, dipped it in the dish of olive oil and had a bite.

“Are you enjoying watching me twist in the wind, Amanda?”

“I have to confess, I am. I’ve never seen you off balance before. And I doubt I will any time soon again so let me have my moment.” But she couldn’t hold out against the anguished look in his eyes. “Okay, like I said, I’ve had a great time here, professionally. Personally, I wanted to be back in Portland. I missed the city.” She shook her head. “No, that’s not entirely accurate. I missed Portland, all right. But mostly I decided I wanted to see if the deal you offered me was still good.” It was her turn to drop her eyes.

After a deep breath, she looked up again. “I was going to call you this weekend, I really was, to tell you I was coming back to Portland. Assuming it matters to you. Next month. I mean, that’s when I’m moving.” Her eyes searched his face, trying to find the answer she wanted to see there.

Before Sam could say anything, the waiter brought their entrées, then came back with a pitcher to freshen their water glasses.

After the server left the second time, Amanda said, “So? No reaction? I thought you might like what I just said.”

He carefully cut a piece of his chicken cacciatore, chewed it and swallowed it before he answered. “Wasn’t sure how you’d react to my showing up in Seattle unannounced. You were happy to see me but you glowed when you talked about your time here. I thought about that after I left the gallery. Wondered if you’d be telling me you’re staying here.”

“So — you’re saying, what? You psyched yourself up for me to stay here? Is that what you want?”

“God, no.”

“Then, have you changed your mind about the deal?”

“The deal?”

“The one where I came back to Portland so we could see if we could make it work out between us. If I move back will you … can we … ?”

“Amanda,” he interrupted, “do you really think I drove all the way up here to see an art exhibit? I mean, I love your work but I came to see you. I had to find out what was going on. It’s been driving me nuts.”

“Then what is all this reluctance about — payback for not being in contact for a while or for saying I liked seeing you off balance?”

“I’m not reluctant. I don’t understand what you meant when you said I couldn’t kiss you good night.”

“No, I meant that you were expecting bad news but there wouldn’t be any.”

“Didn’t sound like that. It was either no kiss or … ” He snapped his fingers and said with an innocent expression, “Oh, wait. You meant you didn’t plan to say good night to me tonight.”

“You think I invite men to sleep over on our first date?”

“First date? We’re way beyond first date, aren’t we?”

“Have we ever had dinner out before tonight?” He shook his head. “Gone to a movie?” Head shake again. “Had anything that even vaguely resembles a date?” He opened his mouth to answer and she quickly said, “Rides to the ER don’t count.” He smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

“I mean, think about it. Yes, we’ve known each other for over a year and we’ve slept together. But it hasn’t exactly been a normal boy-meets-girl, has it? I know how you act in an emergency and how well you do your job but I don’t know what the M stands for in your name or whether you like to dance or swim.”

She waved her fork around as she continued with the list. “I don’t know whether you’re a morning or a night person. Where you went to college. Whether you went to college. I don’t even know how old you are, much less when your birthday is. Somehow we never got around to that kind of thing, what with a murder trial and drug dealers battering down my door.”

He laughed. “I guess I agree. Well, except for the sleeping together part. I don’t recall any sleeping that night.” He ignored her eye roll. “I admit we’ve done things in reverse but didn’t you say you’d make an exception for me.”

“That was about a piece of art, Sam, not relationships or sex or what-ever-it-is we’re talking about now.”

“So, what
would
you like to do for the rest of the evening?”

“How about we finish our dinner and then go home and have dessert. We can talk about it.” Before he could answer, she said, “There’s ice cream in the freezer and my roommate is gone for the weekend.”

“You’ve convinced me. And, since you asked: October 9th and I’m thirty-six. The M is for Martin, my mother’s family name. I swim okay but I grew up on a ranch so I’m better on horseback than in the water. I have a business degree from the University of Oregon and I’ll let you find out on your own about the morning/night thing. Maybe even soon.”

“What?”

“You said you didn’t know those things about me. Now you do. Except for the last one.”

“Oh.” When what he meant about “the last one” finally sunk in, she smiled. “
Oh!
”

“Your turn.”

She laughed. “What is this, the Cliff Notes approach to dating?” When he nodded she continued. “Okay, well — February 14th and I’m twenty-seven.”

“Oh, hell. I thought you just looked young. You really are young, aren’t you?”

“You make it sound like I’m jail bait.”

He started to say something but she stopped him. “Do you want to hear the rest or not?” He nodded. “My middle name is for my godmother and I hate it although I love her. But if I tell you, I expect that you will never, and I mean never, use it.” She waited until he acknowledged the ground rule. “Okay, it’s Minerva.”

It was obvious he was trying hard not to laugh. “That’ll be an easy promise to keep. I can’t think of any circumstances under which I’d call you Minerva.”

“Good. And for the rest — I love to dance. I’m a pretty good swimmer but I grew up with horses so I’d rather ride, too. I have an arts degree from Reed College. I’m more a morning person although I do all right at night if I have a good reason to be up.”

He raised an eyebrow at the last response.

“Oh, please. I meant that if I get involved in something I enjoy, I can be a night person.”

“That’s what I meant, too.”

“I’ll ignore that. And you forgot one.”

“I did?”

“Yeah, do you like to dance?”

“Only the really slow ones.” He motioned to the waiter who brought over the check.

“Well, we can work on that,” she said as she slid out of the booth.

• • •

While Sam walked Chihuly one last time, Amanda got out ice cream, chocolate syrup, whipped cream and maraschino cherries and made sundaes for them. When they were finished eating, Amanda took the bowls back to the kitchen. She returned to the living room to find Sam had put music on.

“Is that Chopin?” she asked.

“Yeah, the nocturnes.” He listened to a few bars. “The second.”

“Not what I’d have thought you’d pick. I would have imagined you’d have settled for my Jimmy Buffett.”

“Which stereotype we working from here: cowboy or cop?”

“Busted. Sorry.”

“My mother was a classical pianist. I grew up with Chopin, Rachmaninoff, Mozart, Glass, Gershwin. You name it, if it was piano music, we had a recording of it. Or she played it. And speaking of stereotypes — you and Jimmy Buffett? I’d have thought you were more the Norah Jones type.”

“One of the guys plays Jimmy in the studio and I’ve gotten to like him.”

“You have all sorts of interesting quirks, don’t you?”

She glanced up at him and looked around for a napkin. “And you have all sorts of chocolate syrup on your mouth.” She reached to wipe his mouth. “Here, let me … ”

“Let’s try the way I wanted to get the chocolate off your mouth in the gallery,” he said and gathered her into his arms.

His mouth was soft and cool; he tasted of vanilla ice cream, chocolate syrup and the all-male flavor she remembered as “Sam.” He kissed her tenderly, like a sweet and gentle first kiss. When her lips parted, he circled her mouth with the tip of his tongue so softly she almost thought she imagined it. He broke from the kiss. “Better?”

“Oh, yes,” she said, having no idea whether there was still syrup on his mouth or not, and reached for him again.

This time he took possession of her lips with an ownership that left her breathless. His hands moved up her back and to the sides of her breasts while his tongue did magic tricks in her mouth. She matched his intensity with her own, months of longing flavoring their kiss and fueling the passion of their embrace.

When they came up for air, he traced the outline of her lips with his index finger as he said, “Any chance you can amend those first date rules of yours?”

“I’m thinking seriously about it.”

“How about we find someplace more comfortable for you to think about it?”

She led him down the hall to her bedroom. When they got there she kicked off her sandals and started to undo the ties of her halter-top that wrapped around her waist.

He came up behind her, reached around and stopped her hands. “Here, let me.” He undid the knot, unwound the ends and released the halter-top, slipping it over her head. He drew her back against his chest and caressed her breasts until she made soft noises of pleasure and her breathing quickened as he nuzzled her neck while he teased her nipples with his fingertips until they were hard.

“Oh, Sam, that’s … ah-h-h,” she breathed out in a ragged gasp.

He unzipped and eased her pants over her hips until they pooled on the floor then he lifted her out of them, picked her up and sat on the bed with her on his lap.

“Now you,” he said and put her hands on the first button of his shirt. When she had finished, he gently put her on the bed, stood up, pulled his shirt out of his jeans, unbuttoned the cuffs and stripped it off, his eyes holding hers the whole time. His boots and socks went next. He pulled a condom out of his wallet, put it on the bedside table and shed his jeans and boxer briefs.

He joined her in bed but when he began to slip off the scrap of lace she wore as panties, she stopped him.

“Do you always carry a condom in your wallet?”

He smiled and brushed a curl back from her cheek. “Not since I was a teenager.”

“So has that been there for twenty years or did you bring it from Portland today?”

“Neither.” The smile moved up to grin.

“Neither? Then, what? Come on, Sam. You’re busted now. Give it up.”

“The expression on your face today, in the gallery, when you first saw me. It was how I’ve always wanted you to look when you saw me. When you hugged me and looked up for me to kiss you, I thought, I wanted to think … anyway, when I walked past a drugstore on the way back to my hotel … ”

“You figured you should be prepared in case you got lucky tonight.”

He looked more serious now as he gently kissed her. “No, not like that. Not with you. I wanted to think that maybe you were telling me that the night in Portland was the beginning, not the end.”

“Oh, God, I hope so,” she said as she pulled him to her for a kiss that was neither gentle nor soft. As the kiss deepened, his hands began to wander to breast, to waist, to hips and thighs. Then his mouth found her breast, his tongue circled her nipples, first one, then the other. His hands brought her skin alive, brought fire and light to every cell in her body.

Separating her legs with his, he moved his hand to her sex. As his fingers slid into her on a flood of arousal, he circled her clitoris with his thumb. Gasping out his name, rocking against his hand, she rode to the edge of climax then over.

She closed her eyes, coming down from the incredible high he’d given her. But he was not finished. He came back to her mouth and their lips touched, their tongues explored and danced. Somehow, sometime, she wasn’t sure when or how, he’d sheathed himself and now was slowly entering her, easing his way into her core. But she didn’t want slow and easy. She wanted all of him. Now.

She wrapped her legs around him and thrust her hips at him, calling out his name, rocking hard against him, meeting him thrust for thrust, bringing them both to orgasm.