Finally, T.J. pulled into Franci’s driveway. When he walked Franci the short distance to her door, he said, “Remember our agreement, Francine. We’re exclusive. I have a feeling you’re forgetting that.”
“I remember our agreement…”
“I want you to give me your word that you’re going to take care of this matter. Get this guy together with his kid, if that’s what he wants. And then tell him you’re involved with someone.”
“I’m planning to take care of this situation the best I can,” she said. “I guess it’s best if you just give me a little time to work out the details.”
“Don’t take too long. I’m not that patient.”
“Thank you for the dinner, T.J. Sorry it ended on such a negative note.”
“Let me know when you get this worked out with Rosie’s father. And try to be smart, Francine. You may have run into him here, but he’s not hanging around. Not for you, not for Rosie. Get rid of him. When that’s done, let me know. Don’t make me wait too long. When he’s gone, we’ll have a second chance.” Then he leaned toward her, gave her a platonic kiss on the cheek. “You’ll be fine. Just do it.”
And after looking deeply into her eyes for a long moment, he got into his car and backed away.
Five
Tonight was the third time the completely impossible happened—Sean ran into Franci on a random street in a small town. At loose ends, he’d decided to go back to that bar where he’d seen her the first time, just on the off chance he’d meet her again, even though he knew the odds were slim. Before he even got inside the bar, he saw her walking down the sidewalk, a man guiding her along with a hand on her elbow. And he carried a take-out sack; they’d already had their dinner.
He considered this sighting some kind of miracle. It was meant to be.
He watched them walk down the sidewalk and turn the corner. He stood there like an idiot for a few moments and then, knowing it was wrong on every level, he headed back to his own car to follow them.
He had no way of knowing what was next on the agenda for Franci’s evening, but if that had been him walking her away from a restaurant, the night would just be getting started. He had an overpowering urge to know if Franci had moved on, if she had found love in her life…if it was time for him to disappear for good.
By the time he reached his vehicle he was too late to spot the make and model of the man’s car. He couldn’t follow them now, which was probably a blessing. But because he was unsuccessful in talking himself out of it, he drove to Eureka—to Franci’s street. When he got there he parked across the street, a couple of houses down, and killed the lights. He sat there for a moment. Well, this was just what he deserved—the joke was on him. Her house was dark but for the front door light, and there was no car in the driveway, nor on the street in front of her house. If there was more to Franci’s evening, it wasn’t happening here.
Just then a car slowly pulled up the street and into her driveway. Sean watched as the man got out of the car and went around to her side to open her car door. He guided her up to the door and Sean thought, If they go inside, I have to find it in me to drive away. Like she said, neither one of us stopped living. She deserves the same option to move on that I took for myself.
He told himself that, but it didn’t feel right.
Then he watched as the man spoke to her, then gave her a brotherly kiss on the cheek and left. Sean’s mouth hung open as Franci stood in the glow of her front door light, watching her date leave. And finally Sean’s head fell forward onto the steering wheel.
Now he really had to make himself drive away! He shouldn’t be here in the first place, and he definitely didn’t have the right to push himself on her now! This could ruin any efforts he made at reconciling and he damn sure wasn’t going to—
Tap-tap-tap at the window completely interrupted his attempt at sanity. He looked up and there was Franci, smacking his car window with a key. He brought down the window.
“Now you’re following me?” she asked, outraged.
“Not exactly,” he said. “I’m sorry. You know I’d never scare you on purpose.”
“You don’t scare me, Sean! I think you’re an idiot!” she said, turning to walk back across the street to her house. She stopped in the middle of the road and, over her shoulder, she said, “You are a truly clumsy spy! I saw you in Arcata! I saw your car when we turned onto my block! I know your car, you dope, from when we met for coffee!”
Sean jumped out and went after her. When he was right behind her, he asked, “Is that why you sent your date away?”
“No!” she said. She kept walking. “I said good-night, just as I’d planned! And what were you going to do if I’d invited him inside? Pound on the door? TP the yard?” She got to her door, stuck her key in the lock and turned it.
“I was going to leave,” he said in his quiet voice. “It wasn’t going to be easy, either. But I knew it was wrong to come here, to watch your house, to spy on you. It was bad and wrong and I’m sorry—and I couldn’t help it. I’ve never been like this before.”
She turned and faced him. “Like what? Nuts?”
He nodded. Then he grinned that Sean grin that melted her, even though he had a black eye and a weird-looking nose.
“I know good doctors,” she said. “We can get you medicated for that.”
His hand came up to cradle her jaw, his fingers reaching into her short hair. “Before we do that, let’s just talk about it.”
“What do you want from me, Sean?”
He moved still closer, leaning down, his mouth just barely above hers. “I want you, Franci. I shouldn’t have let you get away.”
Tears gathered in her eyes. There was a time she’d have given anything to hear that! Oh, who was she kidding—she still wanted to hear that! And tonight was one of those very vulnerable nights! She had just been informed by Professor Hottie that she wasn’t very exciting in the sack. She had tried to be with someone who was right for her, and it obviously hadn’t been working all that well. “What if it’s too late?” she asked in a whisper.
“Don’t we have to know?” he asked. “Don’t we both have to know?”
“Most of the time I think I’d be happier not knowing…”
But instead of speaking, he lowered his lips to hers. He slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him, and kissed her. And there it was—the feelings that rose up in her instantly! With a defeated moan, she melted to him and opened her lips under his.
Franci had what can only be described as a flashback, an out-of-body experience, while Sean’s lips hovered close to hers. As he held her there, their mouths slightly open, breathing each other’s warm breath, images from another time and place filled her mind. It usually came to her in the form of dreams that left her moody for half a day. She felt herself wrapped in his old red sweater, the one she kept at her apartment for cold nights, the thing steaming with his scent, his musk. She heard their laughter as she chased him down a ski slope and he made away; laughter as they played in the lake, splashing each other; in bed after satisfying lovemaking, still wrapped around each other. Scenes popped into her mind—standing in his kitchen, fluffing up a big salad while he turned steak or fish on the grill; washing their cars in his driveway; working together to put fresh sheets on the bed; sitting by a fire in the vast Arizona desert, talking softly under a million stars in an endless black sky. She imagined herself in his arms, just like now.
Once, when they’d been skiing in Colorado, her lips were so chapped and cracked, she didn’t dare smile. She told him that if they made love, she couldn’t use her lips in any way. He told her to lie down on the bed and close her eyes. He began to smooth healing bag balm salve across her lips in long, slow, careful strokes. Not just enough to coat her poor lips once, but over and over and over for long minutes, a lip massage, until they had become as soft and plump as a baby’s butt. He didn’t stop, but kept stroking the salve on her lips, putting her in a trance. Gently, sweetly, perfectly, healing her, taking care of her. Sometimes when she dreamed or remembered that, she felt hypnotized; sometimes it caused her to wake up crying out for him. Remembering all of this and more, and feeling it now, she was in a deep state of longing.
And she was utterly lost.
“I am so screwed,” she whispered.
“Not quite yet, you’re not,” he whispered back.
“Sean, don’t do this…”
“I want you,” he whispered against her opened lips. “So. Bad.”
She tried to pull herself out of the dream because she knew they should be talking, but it wasn’t working. This happened to her sometimes in an actual dream, her refusal to wake up because it felt so good to feel her skin against his skin. But she managed to shake her head weakly and whisper, “Not a good idea.”
But he just lingered there, lips to lips, bodies held comfortably close, and the irresistible memory that came was how much Sean loved pleasing her in bed, how committed he was to her pleasure. It was as if his own satisfaction was secondary. How he would tease her, tell her she took advantage of him; that just because he was accommodating didn’t mean she had to be such a glutton about it. In the aftermath, in laughter, he would say things like, Oh, that’s right, if I make you come twice, you’ll let me have one.
She couldn’t remember him ever once suggesting she was holding back, that she needed more warming up.
She felt herself growing soft and moist. And weaker by the moment.
Then he went in for the kill, covering her lips in a powerful and familiar kiss that left absolutely no doubt that he meant business. And she yielded completely. She didn’t know he was going to do that, though she should have. She certainly wasn’t prepared for it, for which she had no excuse, and suddenly all she had in her was acquiescence. She had needed him so much, for so long. His breath came in and out through his nose roughly and she could barely breathe at all. His big hands ran up her back while her arms slowly, cautiously, rose to circle him, join the embrace.
The kiss was long, deep, delicious, hard. Her lips opened; his opened. It was his best demanding kiss, as she remembered it; he was pushing her back against the front door and she pulled him against her harder, making small noises that did not sound like protests. She was pressed to him tightly and one of her hands crept up his neck to the back of his head, holding him against her mouth. She was actually counting the seconds, then lost count and started again. It felt like a ten minute kiss. She couldn’t stop. And she couldn’t take this back, couldn’t pretend she wasn’t in the mood or had decided it was a bad idea. This was it—her statement. The truth was out. She wanted him every bit as much. Then he reluctantly pulled back.
“Let me come in,” he whispered.
She shook her head. “That guy who just left. That’s the guy I’ve been seeing.”
“I don’t care. I’m going to take you away from him.”
“We have issues to sort out…”
“Yeah, and about a lifetime to do it in. Franci, Franci, for just a little while, let’s think about all the things that are right with us, and not the few things we couldn’t agree on.”
“It wasn’t just a good-natured little debate,” she reminded him. “It was so major it caused us to—”
He came down on her mouth hard, pushing her back, taking her mouth with power. She counted the seconds till she couldn’t resist him and then opened her lips, letting him inside. He slipped his hands inside her coat and ran them slowly up her ribs. Her coat open, he pushed her against her own front door with the length of his body, and the press of his arousal right at the V of her legs caused her some serious amnesia. Maybe it was a disagreement, one that wouldn’t be so debilitating now. Whatever it was—she needed him. Needed.