Within Reach (20 page)

Her smile faltered and she lifted her eyebrows in silent question. “Where’s that move from? Grade four? High school?”

“Ten seconds ago. I’m glad you’re here,” he said simply.

She blinked, then she smiled again. “I’m glad I’m here, too.”

For a moment the kitchen seemed very quiet as they smiled into each other’s eyes.

“Up! Up!” Charlie said, jumping up and down, his arms raised beseechingly toward Angie.

“Your wish is my command, you little tyrant.” She hoisted Charlie into her arms, rubbing her cheek against his. “Okay now?”

Charlie nodded, happy as a clam now he’d gotten his way. Michael shook his head.

“Lock up your daughters, Melbourne,” he said as he started filling a pot with water for the pasta.

“It’s true, he
is
too cute for his own good,” she said.

“Worse thing is he knows it.”

They worked together to make dinner. Angie cut Charlie’s spaghetti into baby-proof pieces and they ate out on the deck, enjoying the last heat of the day. Michael bathed Charlie and got him into his pajamas while Angie cleaned up the kitchen. When he returned with Charlie ready for bed, she revealed her DVD selection:
Bridesmaids,
which he’d somehow missed when it was on at the cinema.

“Phew. I can’t believe you let me think it was
The
Sound of Music,
” he said, giving her a dark look.

“Careful, you’re talking about one of my favorite movies. I might just bring it over and make you watch it next time.”

“For you, I might just watch it. All three hours.”

“It’s not three hours. It’s 174 minutes. Perfectly reasonable.”

Her face was serious, but she was laughing at him with her eyes.

He resisted the urge to kiss her for the third time that night and occupied himself with settling Charlie on the couch. Not unexpectedly, his too-charming son was asleep after half an hour and Angie paused the DVD while he carried Charlie to bed. Angie had kicked off her shoes when he returned. He settled himself in the corner of the modular suite and patted the couch beside him. She came willingly, stretching out so that her head was in his lap, her body curled out at a right angle. He rested his hand on the nape of her neck and listened to her laugh, enjoying her enjoyment. He was too distracted by the weight of her head on his thigh and the length of her bare legs to pay close attention to the movie, and after a while he gave up the pretense and slid his hand beneath the neckline of her dress.

She stilled for a beat, then stirred, pressing her breast into his hand before lifting her gaze to give him a look as old as Eve. He smiled faintly and found her nipple with his thumb, teasing it to hardness. She moved restlessly, her gaze locked with his. He continued to stroke and tease her, gliding his hand from one breast to the other and back again until she pulled away from him and rolled onto her knees.

She crawled toward him, sinuous as a jungle cat, sliding one long leg across his body so that she was straddling his lap. They kissed, the movie playing in the background. He slid his hands beneath her skirt, smoothing them up her widespread thighs. She gave a giveaway shudder as he reached her panties. He found damp silk and heat and he stroked her with both thumbs, loving the little hitch in her breathing when he found a really good spot. He was painfully hard but he was enjoying himself too much to rush things. Stroking her tongue with his, he slipped a finger beneath the elastic of her underwear. He got even harder when he felt how wet and ready she was. He stroked her, finding the hard pearl of her clitoris and circling it lazily.

Her hand clenched into his shirt, her grip strong, demanding. She broke their kiss, her tongue tracing a path to his ear.

“Come on,” she whispered. “Time to hit the study.”

She slid from his grasp, standing and offering him her hand to help him to his feet. He stood and she started to lead him toward the study, the site of the bulk of their sexual encounters to date. Apart from that time in the kitchen and on the couch when the kids were in day care and at school, they had been careful to always make sure there was a locked door between them and his sleeping children. That door had never led to his bedroom, however, something he and Angie had never directly addressed. He knew without asking that she understood. He also knew that she would never push, because not once in their relationship had she asked for anything for herself.

He’d always been grateful for her generosity and understanding, but tonight for some reason it felt wrong to lay her down on the Turkish rug in his office and make love to her.

She deserved better. She deserved to not be some dirty little secret that he corralled off into his study, as though by doing so he could corral his feelings and lessen the importance of what they were doing. It was just sex when it was on the study floor.

Tonight, it didn’t feel like just sex. It never really had, but he’d allowed himself to believe that because it had made it easier for him to reconcile himself to his own desires and needs.

He dug his heels in as Angie led him up the hallway toward the study. She glanced at him over her shoulder, a question in her eyes.

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” he said.

She went very still. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” The smile she gave him was a little tremulous. “Okay.”

Without another word, he turned around. He led her now, through the kitchen and into the hall that led to the master suite. He entered the room, crossing to the bedside table to flick on the lamp. The curtains were open, and he crossed to the window and pulled them closed.

When he turned, Angie was standing beside the bed, an unreadable expression on her face. After a second she raised her gaze to his.

“It’s stupid, but it suddenly feels more real, being in here.”

It did. Very real. As though what was happening between him and Angie was important, and not just some itch they were both scratching or an extension of their friendship.

“It’s just a bed,” he said.

It was true, but it was also more than that. Angie nodded, then her hands went to the tie on her belt. They were shaking, and all of a sudden his own feelings weren’t nearly as important as hers.

He crossed to her side, took her hands in his. She looked up into his face and he kissed her. After a few seconds her hands stopped trembling. Not breaking their kiss, he reached for her belt and started undressing her.

* * *

A
NGIE
LAY
IN
THE
DARKNESS
, her head pillowed on Michael’s shoulder. She was almost certain he was asleep. Her mind was too busy to allow her to rest, however, going over and over what had happened tonight.

First there had been the way he looked at her in the kitchen, kissing her hand and telling her he was glad she was here. Then he’d encouraged her to put her head on his lap and rested his hand on the nape of her neck.

Then, instead of taking her to the study to make love, he’d led her in here. Into his bedroom. The room he’d shared with Billie.

He’d made love to her with passionate intensity, the need he stirred within her quickly pushing all other considerations aside. They were back now, though. With a vengeance.

How many times had she sat on this bed and watched Billie try on clothes or put on makeup? Too many to count. The walk-in wardrobe on the far wall had once held Billie’s clothes. The vanity in the ensuite had once been cluttered with her perfumes and face creams and makeup. The chest of drawers had once played host to her jewelry box, a messy, crammed wooden chest overflowing with necklaces and bracelets and earrings.

Sometimes, it was very hard to remember that she wasn’t stealing anything from Billie by being with Michael. That it wasn’t a case of either/or. Billie was gone.

A single tear slid down Angie’s cheek and onto the pillow. It would have all been so much easier if she and Michael had never connected, if he’d gone on being Billie’s sad, widowed husband and she’d continued to be Billie’s best friend. But that wasn’t the way it had worked out.

Michael shifted beside her, his legs brushing hers. She turned her head to contemplate his profile in the dark. He was such a lovely man. A wonderful lover—passionate and patient and playful. A wonderful father, too. And a good friend. Having him fill so many of the empty corners of her life in the past few weeks had been…special.

She backed away from her own thoughts. This was all complicated enough without her getting carried away. No matter what happened when she and Michael were naked, no matter how many times they laughed and talked and shared their lives, it didn’t change the fact that he was still in love with his dead wife. Only a very foolish woman would allow herself to turn great sex and companionship into a hope for more. And she’d always prided herself on a being a smart cookie. Most of the time.

Her gaze slid to the clock on the bedside table. It was late. She needed to get dressed and go home.

She eased her head off Michael’s shoulder and shifted to the edge of the bed. She found her dress and was searching for her panties when the bedside lamp clicked on.

Michael propped himself up on one elbow, his eyes squinted against the light. “You going?”

“Yeah.”

She reached for her bra, aware that a very stupid part of her brain was waiting for him to suggest she stay.

Wasn’t it enough that he’d invited her into his bed tonight? Or was that what was making her greedy all of a sudden? That and the way he’d kissed her hand earlier?

“You up to much tomorrow?” he asked as she slipped her bra on and did up the back clasp.

“A friend has a show opening at a gallery in Flinders Lane. I said I’d go along and hold his hand. What about you?”

“The usual. Eva wants to practice riding her bike. Charlie will no doubt attempt to defy death yet again.”

She smiled before pulling her dress over her head. Her shoes were out by the couch, along with her handbag and everything else.

“That’s me, I think.” Michael threw back the covers but she held up a hand.

“You don’t need to show me out. I know the way.”

Michael gave her an admonishing look. “I’ll see you out.”

He pulled his boxer-briefs on and she was aware of him walking behind her as she collected her shoes and bag and made her way to the front door.

“I had a nice night,” she said.

“Yeah. So did I.”

“You should watch the rest of the movie tomorrow. It’s really funny.”

“It doesn’t need to go back to the shop?”

“It’s my copy.”

“Wow. Up there with
The Sound of Music.
Impressive.”

She punched him lightly on the biceps. “Funny guy.”

He caught her hand and used it to pull her closer. They kissed, a deep, wet, languorous meeting of mouths that made her want to peel her clothes off all over again.

After a few minutes she pulled back. “I’ll see you Monday, okay?”

“Okay.”

He looked incredibly good standing there in the dim hallway, naked except for his boxer-briefs. She gave his body one last appreciative scan before stepping onto the front porch.

“See you.”

She headed for her car, tossing her bag onto the passenger seat. She glanced across at the house before she pulled away from the curb. Sure enough, Michael was still standing in the doorway, making sure she got away okay. She raised her hand, not sure if he could see it in the dark, then pulled away from the house.

Twenty-five minutes later she was letting herself into her own apartment. For a moment she simply stood there, feeling oddly disoriented, as though she’d let herself into the wrong apartment or someone had come and moved her things around while she was out.

Or that she was simply in the wrong place, full stop.

She shook herself and the feeling passed as quickly as it came. Still, she read a few pages of a book to settle herself before turning off the light.

* * *

T
HE
NEXT
DAY
SHE
WALKED
down to Brunswick Street and had breakfast at Babka Bakery, reading over the morning paper while stuffing herself with blintzes and coffee. Three times she caught herself reaching for her phone to call Michael to pass on some silly tidbit she’d read in the paper.

She’d left his bed barely ten hours ago. He didn’t need to hear from her again. And she didn’t need to get into the habit of telling him every little thing, either.

Her friend’s opening was busy, thronging with arty types in severe black. Angie held her friend’s hand until she was confident he could swim just fine on his own, then she slipped away and went home. She spent the night on the couch watching a documentary she’d recorded, pretending like crazy that she wasn’t lonely for the sound of Eva’s stomping feet and Charlie’s beseeching demands and Michael’s serious gray-green eyes.

She also told herself that she didn’t deliberately wake up early the next morning so she could spend more time with him before he had to go to work. It was just a happy coincidence that she happened to be getting out of her car and walking up his driveway when he still had a full hour before he had to hit the road.

He answered the door before she could knock, wearing nothing but his suit trousers. His hair was damp from the shower and his aftershave was fresh on, surrounding her in a heady cloud of spicy masculinity.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey yourself.”

He smiled and she knew he knew she’d come early to see him and that he was glad she had.

“Eva and Charlie are still asleep,” he said. “I need to get them up soon or we’ll be late.”

“Good plan.”

His smile broadened into a grin. Without saying a word, he turned and headed up the hallway. She followed him without question, and when she entered his bedroom, she let out a small, grateful sigh when he pounced on her, pushing her up against the wall as he kissed her with almost savage abandon.

“Miss me?” he asked in a gravelly rasp as he pulled her T-shirt up and tugged her bra down.

“Yes.”