The Letter(37)

“Yes. We’re still on.” That’s right, let’s talk about normal things. Road trips. Relatives. Anything that would make her get her bearings again.

Gil sighed and pushed off the couch, still holding her hand and pulled her with him. “I really should go. It’s getting late.”

She nodded and followed him to the front door. He turned to her and put a hand on each of her hips, pulled her towards him, and brushed a quick kiss against her lips.

“The heck with that.” He leaned close and kissed her again with a heat and desire that she could feel surge through her. By the time he pulled away, she was breathless yet again. He lightly brushed his finger under her chin. “Lock up behind me.”

Then he was gone and she was standing there missing him and wondering what she’d gotten herself into. After Justin had dumped her, she’d sworn off men. Really, there was no reason to get all tangled up in a relationship, waste years of her life, only to be dumped when she really needed someone.

This—whatever it was—with Gil? She hadn’t expected it. Wasn’t looking for it. Didn’t really want it. She just wanted a simple, uncomplicated life for a while. For a long while. Falling for a man who lived halfway across the country from her didn’t really sound very uncomplicated.

But, she wasn’t falling for him. She couldn’t be. She wouldn’t let herself. It was just a brief fling. There was nothing wrong with a brief fling. People had them all the time. Well, she didn’t, but most people did.

A fling. Yes, now that she had a label for her relationship with Gil, she convinced herself that she felt much better. So much better.

But she could still feel the scorch of his lips, long after he was gone.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN





Madeline sat on the front steps of the Sweet Tea the next morning, waiting for Gil. She had to admit she was nervous about seeing him again after last night. Would he regret kissing her? Did he just feel responsible for her after their ordeal in New Orleans? Did he have feelings for her? How could he, they’d only known each other for a short time. She reminded herself about her fling theory of the night before. He probably had no problems with a brief fling.

She jumped up when she saw his truck pull into the drive. He got out of the truck and met her halfway. “Good morning.” He was comfortably dressed in jeans and long-sleeve button-down shirt. His hair was still damp from his morning shower. He smelled good. Really good. Of soap and whatever his aftershave was.

“Morning.” She smiled tentatively at him.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes.”

“We’ve got a nice day for a drive.”

“It is.”

Were they going to have this inane conversation the whole way to Bay St. Louis? But Madeline couldn’t seem to come up with more than a one or two word answer. He helped her into the truck, walked around, and got in the driver’s side. He looked directly at her. “Maddy, about last night.” He looked at her, his eyes searching for… for what? “I didn’t expect what happened to happen. I’m glad it did though. Really glad.”

“I am, too.” Nothing wrong with a fling. Her new mantra.

“Good. Now we’ll just quit with the silly talk of weather and such, okay?”

She grinned at him. “That would be fine.”

“One more thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m going to kiss you again, right now, because I’ve been dreaming about it all night and I’m the kind of guy who likes to take action.” His impish grin set her heart on full tilt.

“Well, if that’s the kind of guy you are.”

“I am.” With that he leaned over and kissed her. Thoroughly. But when he pulled away she wanted more. Much more. Nothing wrong with a fling.

They drove to Bay St. Louis partially in companionable silence, partially talking about their lives. She had so many questions for him. She wanted to know everything about him. Since she’d never had a fling before, she didn’t know the rules. Was it okay to want to know so much about him?

He talked about growing up in Comfort Crossing and his sister, Bella. By the time they got to Bay St. Louis she knew a lot more about Gil Amaud.

Josephine came out on the front porch as they pulled in the drive. She obviously had been watching for them.

“Madeline, Gilbert, so good to see you two again. Come in, come in.”

They settled down in her kitchen with tea for the women and lemonade for Gil. Now that the time had come to tell Josephine about Paul and the painting, Madeline couldn’t find the right words. She looked beseechingly at Gil.

“Aunt Jo. We have some news about Paul.”