She dipped her face again into the shelter of his shoulder and he chuckled softly at her embarrassment. They lay silent and pensive for long moments, content to enjoy the warmth, the touch, the scent, the nearness of the other. His voice was low and confidence-inspiring when he said, “Tell me about your husband.”
Her hand, which had been idly charting his ribs, came to rest. “We married after I graduated from college. We were married for four years. He was killed in a car crash.”
“I’m sorry. It must have been a terrible time for you.”
She sighed. “We were separated at the time he was killed, Reeves. Charles was a salesman—an unsuccessful one. He went from job to job, chasing rainbows, never thinking realistically. I traipsed after him for years, from city to city, from state to state, always hoping that I’d be able to hang up curtains before he came home and told me of his latest prospect that would require moving again.
“I finally got tired of the transient lifestyle and left him. I got a job with a newspaper writing society page articles. It wasn’t a very exciting life, but it was stable. Charles kept begging me to come back to him, but I refused to unless he promised to settle down. He was killed several months later.”
Reeves breathed heavily and drew her closer. “I hope you don’t harbor any guilty feelings over leaving him.”
She laughed dryly. “I probably would have, but after his death his girlfriend came to see me and guiltily confessed all the lurid details. They had been lovers long before I moved out.”
“Sounds like he was a real winner,” Reeves said sarcastically.
“Don’t be too hard on Charles. He couldn’t help the way he was any more than any of us can.”
“I think you’re being magnanimous,” he whispered. He cupped her chin in his fist and raised her face to receive a soft kiss.
He practically threw her from him and sat bolt upright when the lights suddenly flashed on. When both realized what had happened, they burst out laughing.
“I’ve lived through wars, famines, and floods, and I nearly have a heart attack when the electricity comes back on.” He was raking his hands through his hair in a most endearing, boyish way.
“What time is it?” she asked.
He checked his wristwatch. “Just after two.”
“Well, the power has been restored in almost record time,” she commented with a laugh.
“Stay where you are, woman. I’ll go around and turn off all the lights.”
“Like that?” she asked. She sat up and stared at him in astonishment as he stepped over the discarded pajama bottoms.
His brows lowered over lascivious eyes as they treated themselves to a leisurely perusal of her breasts. “Do you object?” he taunted.
She smiled mischievously. “Not if you hurry back.”
“Insatiable wench,” he teased as he strode out of the room.
Jordan fell back against the pillows, raising her arms high above her head and stretching luxuriously. She sighed in deep contentment. A silly smile curled her lips as her eyes strayed over the room, which seemed to have changed character with the presence of Reeves Grant.
Her eyes lit briefly on the Lalique perfume bottles on her dresser. They passed the collection, but then came back to look at it more closely. Helmut. Helmut had given her the crystal last week for a “no occasion” present.
For an instant, when Reeves had asked her if there were any reason why he should not complete the act of loving, Helmut’s face had flickered through her mind. Her being with Reeves tonight wasn’t fair to Helmut at all. How would she handle that?
Should she tell Reeves about Helmut? It really was none of his concern, but it might be better to get everything out in the open at the outset. The outset of what? She had no reason to believe that this would go any further than the present. Perhaps it would be better to keep her counsel until Reeves indicated what his intentions were.
No, she wouldn’t tell him anything just now.
But when Reeves came back into the room and switched off the light, she knew she wanted to be honest with him.
“Reeves,” she said as he slid in beside her and took her in his arms. “Reeves—”
“They’re all out. Should we just let this one last candle burn down? I don’t want all the lights to be off or I can’t see you.” His voice was husky as his lips sought the base of her throat and the vulnerable triangle there.
“Reeves …”
“Hm?”
“I want to … ah … Reeves, please … talk …”
His hand splayed over the smooth expanse of her stomach while his lips fluttered across her breasts, bringing her nipples alert with longing. “Do you really want to talk? Now?” he asked a second before his mouth settled over hers. The intrusion of his tongue prevented her from speaking, but it made no difference. She had forgotten what she was going to say anyway.