Under the circumstances, they wouldn’t be spending any more time together after tonight unless one or the other of them changed their political position. And that was highly unlikely to happen.
“Excuse us, everyone,” Bill said, and whisked her onto the dance floor as if afraid she would change her mind.
Fat chance of that happening, either, Eloise thought, as she stepped into his open arms and allowed herself to be enfolded in his masculine embrace one last time.
“I hope you didn’t mind my dragging you off the way I did, but it’s getting late and I wanted to dance with you again before we left,” Bill admitted somewhat sheepishly.
“I didn’t mind at all,” Eloise assured him, smiling as she met his questing gaze.
“Good.”
He drew her closer, his arms tightening around her imperceptibly as he brushed his cheek against her hair.
As the music played on, Eloise had a good idea of exactly how Cinderella must have felt, the clock ticking away the moments until she would be dropped back into the real world again. Her party was about to be over very soon, too. And in the morning she would once again have to face her own version of the real world, along with the very real problems she had come no closer to solving that night.
She had spent several hours with Mayor Harper, and although most of that time had also been spent with other people, as well, she’d had more than one opportunity to broach the subject of his proposed cuts to city funding. But she hadn’t done it, and she wasn’t going to.
Not as they danced together one last time, and not on the short ride back to her apartment, sitting close beside him in the privacy of his black limousine, the bright lights of the city muted by the tinted glass in the windows.
Certainly she was entitled to a little downtime, she reasoned justifiably. And certainly she was entitled to spend that downtime in harmony with an old and very dear friend, renewing an acquaintance that would be of benefit to her and, by association, to Manhattan Multiples, as well.
Or so she tried to believe as she tucked her head against Bill’s shoulder and allowed her hand to remain firmly clasped in his.
Whatever differences they had—and there were some—could, and would, be addressed. But at another time, in another place, she vowed, aware of how fleeting peaceful moments like the ones they now shared had lately seemed to be in her normally hectic life.
Bill appeared to be no more inclined to talk than she was, either in the limousine or on the all too speedy elevator ride to her apartment, though he did seem to want to keep ahold of her hand. Eloise was grateful on both counts. Tonight had been a very special night for her, one she would never forget. But just like Cinderella, she knew the countdown to its end would be over very soon now.
“I had a really good time tonight,” Bill said as the elevator door whispered open on her floor.
Stepping off together, they started slowly down the hallway, the plush carpet muffling their footsteps, the pale glow of the art deco wall sconces lighting their way.
“So did I,” Eloise replied, risking a glance at him as they came to a halt just outside her apartment door.
She knew immediately that she had made a big mistake by meeting his gaze. Knew, too, what was coming next and that she had a duty to discourage it. But the look of longing in Bill’s bright blue eyes, edged with just the right hint of masculine mischief, made it impossible for her to do anything quite so sensible.
She was capable only of standing silently, caught and held by his mesmerizing gaze, as she awaited the inevitable and not unwelcome moment they had been moving toward all evening.
“I’m so glad we finally got together again,” he continued, his voice pitched a notch lower.
Obviously feeling much too sure of himself, he offered her another winning smile.
“Yes,” she agreed, brought back to earth again by his show of confidence. “I’m glad, too.” Then, gathering her wits about her as she should have done much sooner, she ever so politely extended her hand. “Thank you for a lovely evening, Bill.”
“Thank you, Eloise,” he replied, his smile widening. “For making it much more than a lovely evening.”
Pulling her close before she could even think of resisting, he bent his head and gently, chastely claimed her lips with his.
Eloise had forgotten how gratifying even the simplest kiss could be, especially when shared with someone as desirable as Bill Harper had always been to her.
It wasn’t as if thoughts of him had ever interfered with her marital happiness, and it certainly wasn’t as if she had ever obsessed about him sexually. But Bill had meant so much to her once upon a time.
So surely it wasn’t odd that her attraction to him had lingered over time, tucked away in the far reaches of her fondest-days-past memories. Nor was it any surprise at all that she found herself responding to his kiss with an ardor that she would have never displayed with any other man, even though some reticence on her part probably would have been wise.
But she didn’t want to be wise tonight, Eloise decided as Bill deepened their kiss ever so slightly.
Tracing the line of her lips with a teasing tongue, he sought entry, finding it as she uttered a soft sigh, relaxed against him and teased back with her own tongue.
His arms tightened around her possessively as they tasted each other intimately, and she sighed again, raising up on her toes, seeking desperately to get as close to him as she could. She wanted to feel even more completely the warmth radiating so seductively from his body—wanted, secretly, to dispense with all the clothing keeping her from putting her hands and her mouth against his hot, bare skin.
Suddenly, somewhere much too close to them, a door opened with a heavy rush. The sound registered in Eloise’s mind, along with the faintest hint of boyish snickering, setting off a vague sense of alarm. But she was too enthralled by Bill’s sensual kiss to react as promptly or appropriately as she should have. And then it was too late. She was thoroughly and completely caught in the act by her sons.
“Hey, Mom,” Henry, the youngest, sang out. “You’re late.”
“Yeah, Mom, you are way late,” John, her middle son, chided. “Way, way, way late. We expected you to be home hours ago.”
“Do you know how worried we’ve been?” Carl, the eldest, demanded, his tone resembling one she had often used herself with them, only without the obvious touch of humor blended in for good measure. “I’m here to tell you that you are so grounded.”
“Yeah, so grounded, Mom,” Henry and John echoed, barely able to contain their laughter.
Totally flustered, Eloise took a step back as Bill broke off their kiss with a masculine chuckle.
“Looks like we have an audience,” he muttered, his blue eyes gleaming with what appeared to be pride.
Though he shifted to one side so that he faced her sons—all three crowded into the open doorway of the apartment—he still kept a possessive arm around her shoulders.
“Sorry, guys, it’s my fault your mom’s late getting home. We were having so much fun together we lost all track of time.”
“A likely story,” Carl retorted grimly, but his eyes twinkled, too, as did his brothers’.
“You three were supposed to be in bed no later than ten o’clock,” Eloise reminded them primly, going on the offensive.
They looked so cute in the red plaid flannel pants and red long-sleeved T-shirts they had recently adopted in lieu of pajamas that she wanted to hug them. But they were the ones who were up much too late tonight—a