His movements were sure. There was a maturity about him, a manliness, she had never noticed. It reached deep into her soul.
In turn, she felt a blossoming inside, in a hidden glen that now felt the kiss of the sun warming the loamy earth, readying it for spring and new growth.
“Straddle me,” he requested.
His hands on her waist lifted her. He had strength she hadn’t suspected, her weight easy to him. She swung her leg over his thighs. He settled her against him.
“Oh,” she said as entirely new sensations erupted.
“Now be still,” he ordered and gave a short, self-deprecating laugh. “You have me on the edge. One slip and I’ll go right over.”
His confession thrilled her in ways she couldn’t name. Her blood flowed with golden lava, with champagne bubbles and laughter.
“Me, too,” she said, biting desperately, carefully, on his shoulder. “I’m the same, so…so…” She didn’t know the words.
“Very much so,” he agreed.
He found the bow that closed the drawstring to her summer slacks. It opened when he tugged. Then he slipped his hands inside the material and cupped her bottom. She fit her breasts to his chest.
“We’re hot, you and I,” she whispered. “Our skin, it’s like fire on fire.”
“I went up in smoke a long time ago. You’re just now catching up.”
When he moved slightly, she gasped as tremor after tremor of need arced through her.
“See?” he said.
He smiled again, and it was so tender she could have wept had there been time. But he was kissing her again, and the stars dropped from their orbits and into her soul.
She didn’t know how long they kissed and touched each other. Forever, it seemed.
The moon spread a molten path of silver across the river as it rose higher. Still they kissed.
And kissed.
At last she knew it had to stop or they had to go further. “This isn’t enough,” she complained, panting lightly, placing carefully spaced kisses along his collarbone and down his chest as far as she could reach. “This has got to…to finish.”
He groaned and caught her to him, pulling her hands behind her back and holding them there.
“Let me touch you,” she requested and pressed hard against the ridge in his jeans.
“No.”
She rose slightly on her knees and rubbed against him.
“Don’t.”
This time the tone was stern, older, the disciplined male taking command instead of letting her do as she wished in their love play.
“Why?”
He kissed her eyes instead of answering when she stared at him in the shadowy moonlight. She leaned farther back and looked at him, beginning to feel hurt and confused.
“Don’t hate me,” he said.
She was surprised. “I don’t. I never would—”
He laid his mouth over hers until the words were stilled. “We have something special. We shouldn’t have…It was my fault. I shouldn’t have let it go this far. I didn’t mean to—”
“What did you mean to do?”
“Talk.” He smiled briefly, almost sadly. “Share a kiss for old times’ sake. Not this…not this far, not this much. It was a…surprise.”
His explanation made no sense. “What?” she asked. “What was a surprise?”
He lifted her from him and moved to his seat. She suddenly felt chilled. When he handed her the clothing, she pulled it on hurriedly. After yanking his T-shirt over his head, he turned back to her, lifting her face to his with a finger under her chin. His expression was gentle, kind.
“Don’t be ashamed,” he ordered, reading her reaction correctly. “This was natural. It just wasn’t what I had planned. You’re my friend. I want to keep it that way.”
Pride made her face him without flinching. “I understand. I’d better get home. I have to get up at five to pick up my papers.” Fatigue swept over her as reality shoved its way into her consciousness.
He had driven them to town, away from the moonlight and its induced madness, her heart too numb to ache. Yet…
Ally picked up her coffee cup. It was empty. She realized she’d been sitting there for an hour, reliving the past. Frowning, she jumped to her feet. The day was wasting. Where were the men who were supposed to be working on the house?
The ringing of the doorbell jarred Ally out of a sound sleep. She sat up on the sofa and wondered who was so darned impatient at her front door. She noted the afternoon was half over and still no carpenters.
She checked the peephole and opened the door. “Hello, James. What happened to you?”
The carpenter’s son stood on the porch, his arm in a cast from fingers to elbow. “Uh, Dad and I, we had a wreck this morning on our way over.”
“Oh, no! How’s your father? Is he hurt?”
James nodded, his summer-blond hair falling over his forehead in a carefree manner, belying the seriousness of his face. “He’s in the hospital, leg broke in three places. They’ll have to put pins in it.”
“I’m so sorry. Was anyone else in the truck? Your mom?”
“No, just the two of us. The guy in the dump truck wasn’t hurt at all. He just barged through a red light and mowed us down.”
She tsked in sympathy. “Come in out of the heat,” she invited, opening the door wider. “I have some tea—”
“I need to get back to the hospital and stay with my mom. They’re gonna operate on the old man as soon as the surgeon gets there. He’s out playing golf or something.” He gestured vaguely with one hand. “I don’t think we’ll get back to your job for two or three months.”
She thought that was an optimistic estimate. “Don’t worry about it. I can do the painting myself.”
He nodded, looking miserable. “I called several buddies but they’re all working on the new construction job over on the other side of town. You know, the fancy apartment complex they put in over by the lake.”
She knew where he meant. Spence had moved into a bachelor apartment there last February. The planned community was modern and had lots of activities for singles, she’d heard.
“Don’t worry about a thing here,” she assured the young carpenter. “I’ll take care of it. Or it’ll be waiting for you when you’re able to work again.”
“Thanks. Well, I’d better run.”
“Tell your dad I said hello and to take care. You, too.”
He nodded and loped off, his hair flopping against his collar until he pulled on a baseball cap, the bill backwards. She smiled, feeling much older than the injured twenty-five-year-old. Seven years. It could be the difference between one lifetime and the next.
Of course, one night could do the same.
After those wild kisses, from the time Spence had dropped her off, making sure she was safely inside her aunt’s house, and the dawn of the next day, she had aged considerably. The bubbles had evaporated from her blood and her mind. She had taken a good hard look at herself.
Her looks were not extraordinary. Her thick hair, which had some natural curl, was okay, she