Deirdre Martin Page 11

“That would be me,” Paul replied, and they both burst out laughing, though Katie’s laughter quickly turned to staccato gasps as his teasing fingers continued to move in and out of her body.

  “Paul, please,” she begged him. “Please.”

  “Please what?” Paul growled, fingers quickening their pace.

  “Please make love to me,” Katie rasped, her head falling back.

  For a second, nothing happened. Then she felt the universe tilt as he lifted her up and she was on her back, sprawled on the rug before the fire. Katie panted, waiting, as Paul fumbled with the zipper of his jeans. He was naked now, and she took him in her hand. He was hard, silky in her palm, his whole body going rigid as she slowly stroked him. Now she was the torturer, the one calling the shots. Still holding him in her hand, she brushed the tip of him over her and was rewarded with a feral growl. Close, they were so close, and he was perfectly positioned: one thrust and he would be deep inside her body, the agony of their bodies quenched. Katie’s hips began angling up to meet his as she barely rode the tip of him. But instead of plunging deep inside her, he took care of protection, and then came up on his elbows, looking down into her eyes as he lovingly pushed the damp tendrils of her hair off her face.

  “This is it,” he said, his mouth covering her face in passionate kisses. “No turning back. You sure?”

  “I’m sure,” Katie whispered feverishly, pulling her knees up as he eased himself into her.

  The fit was perfect, tight. Katie’s breath came rapidly as he began thrusting slowly, almost dreamily, inside her. “I’ve fantasized about this from the minute I saw you at the reunion,” he said, the huskiness of his voice giving Katie goosebumps. He pushed deeper.

  Katie groaned her response as his body continued moving in hers: hard, deep, assured. “This okay?” he rasped, changing the angle of his thrusts so that every one of his strokes was rubbing against her sex. Katie swallowed, barely having time to nod yes before he began quickening the pace, his teeth carving a groove into her shoulder as he bit down. That was it: Katie’s head snapped back and an unrestrained scream of pleasure erupted from her lips as he drove her over the edge. When she returned to her senses, she saw his eyes burning in the firelight, the intensity almost too much to bear.

  “Hold on,” he said, thrusting relentlessly. Katie could feel her own pulse begin to climb back up as Paul started to lose control. She savored the moment, watching as his open mouth drew in great gulps of air. He was close now, she could tell. He pulled her thigh up even higher on his hip, Katie matching his rhythm. At last, he gave one final, frenzied thrust before emptying himself into her.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 08

  “You okay, Professor?”

  Paul’s words brought Katie back to herself. Her body might be snuggled against his in front of the roaring fire, but her mind was floating blissfully out in the cosmos. She wondered how long they’d been holding each other, the need for speech superfluous.

  Katie brushed her nose against his. “Please don’t call me that. It makes me feel like I’m on Gilligan’s Island.”

  Paul laughed. “Who does that make me? The Skipper?”

  “Ginger.”

  “Mmm, kinky.”

  Katie turned on to her back, eyes following Paul as he rose to fetch an afghan from the couch. The flickering shadows created by the fire played across his rippling muscles. His body was perfect. And he was good in bed. Katie couldn’t believe her good luck.

  Lying beside her, Paul propped himself up on one elbow while the fingers of his free hand brushed easily over her right hip. He slid down her body, kissing the spot he’d just caressed. “What are these?” he asked innocently.

  Katie lifted her head, peering down the length of her body as Paul continued to gaze curiously at the intricate network of pearly white lines crisscrossing her hips.

  “Those are stretchmarks,” she said quietly, moving to turn away from him. “From when I was fat.”

  Paul pulled her back toward him, pressing his mouth to the marks and letting his lips linger. “I think they’re beautiful.”

  Katie snorted. “My God, you can sling the bull.”

  Paul lifted his eyes to hers. “I’m not bullshitting you, Katie. They’re hieroglyphics. I read them and I can see where you’ve been and how hard you’ve worked to get to where you are now. They’re part of you, so they’re beautiful.” He kissed her right hip again before spreading the afghan over the two of them and settling back down with Katie nestled in his arms.

  “This is very romantic.” Katie sighed. “But please tell me you have a bed we can repair to after a decent interval of canoodling.”

  “Of course I have a bed. What do you think I am?”

  “With all these unpacked boxes, I thought you might bed down on the couch every night,” Katie ribbed.

  “I have a bed,” Paul repeated, kissing her forehead. “Trust me.”

  “I could help you unpack, you know.”

  Slightly, almost imperceptibly, Katie could feel him tense.

  “No, that’s okay. I don’t need help.”

  “It might be fun.”

  “I don’t think so,” Paul said with unmistakable terseness.

  He drew her closer, stroking her hair. “Let’s just concentrate on us.”

  “Us,” Katie repeated uncertainly. The concept made her feel nervous.

  Paul’s gaze was questioning as he pulled back so he could look at her. “You don’t sound too thrilled.”

  “No, I’m fine, I mean, I’m thrilled, this was thrilling, look at my thrilled face.” She made a silly face, but Paul didn’t laugh. It was best to tell the truth. “I just think we should keep it kind of quiet, that’s all.”

  “What the hell for?” Paul scowled. “I’m going out with the smartest and most beautiful woman in Didsbury and I have to keep it a secret?”

  “I’m only in Didsbury temporarily. Remember?”

  “So?”

  Katie sighed with frustration. “People talk, Paul.”

  “So?” he repeated.

  “Maybe it’s not such a good idea for us to be too obvious, you know? You’re Tuck’s coach, remember?”

  Paul groaned.

  “And then there’s Liz,” Katie brought up tentatively.

  “What?” Paul bolted upright, staring at her in horror as if she’d just started speaking in tongues. “What does Liz have to do with anything?”

  “She wants you, Paul. Everyone knows it.”

  “So?”

  “Stop saying ‘so’!”

  Paul’s expression remained incredulous. “You’re going to let Liz Flaherty dictate what we can and can’t do? Are you nuts?”

  “She can stir up trouble,” Katie muttered. “You know she can.” His inability to see the implications of Liz knowing about them irked her. Tugging on his fingers, she pulled him back down beside her. “I just think it’s better if we keep this quiet,” she said, resting her chin on his shoulder.

  Paul thought about it for a moment, then drew back suspiciously. “You sure this isn’t about me?”

  “You?”

  “Yeah. Me. As in the hotshot college professor doesn’t want it to get around she’s playing footsy with the loser ex-jock.”

  Katie stared at him. “Is that really how you see yourself?”

  Embarrassment flashed across his face. “No, of course not—”

  “Then don’t talk about yourself that way,” Katie said sharply. “And don’t talk about me that way.” She withdrew, feeling a bit wounded. “This has nothing to do with what other people think.”

  “Except Liz Flaherty.”

  “I just don’t want any trouble, Paul. And I don’t want Tuck running into any problems, either.”

  Paul scrubbed his hands over his face. “You want to be secret fuck buddies? Fine.”

  “Why are you having such a hard time with this? I thought for sure you’d agree.”

  “I can see your point with Tuck. But factoring Liz into
the equation is insane. So she gets upset that we’re together. So big deal.”

  Together. What, exactly, did being “together” mean? She was leaving at the end of the summer to go back to Fallow-field. “I’m tired,” Katie said, nuzzling against his chest. “Let’s not talk about this anymore.”

  “So you decide the subject is closed and that’s it?”

  “You’re ‘so’-ing again.” She cupped his face with her hand. “You want to open the subject back up?” she said gently. “What more is there to say?”

  “I happen to be crazy about you, Katie.” The fierceness in his eyes took Katie aback. “If you want to keep this on the QT for a while because of my being Tuck’s coach, that’s fine. But we’re not hiding this forever.”

  “No, of course not,” Katie said, laughing nervously. She appeared to be following along, but her mind was still back at I’m crazy about you. Was that the runner-up to “I love you”? He was beginning to remind her of the items on her “Forbidden Foods” list—delicious treats she had to guard against because if she succumbed and had even one, all hell would break loose and she’d backslide completely.

  “I’m proud we’re together,” Paul was saying. “Proud to say you’re mine.”

  “All right, Tarzan, I get the picture,” Katie joshed, hoping to bring the intensity of the moment down a notch. “Let’s just play it by ear and see how things go. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” Paul muttered with gruff reluctance. Katie snuggled deeper in his arms, determined to banish her own doubts. This was nice. This was good. They could sort out the details later.

  If ever Katie needed evidence Didsbury was a very small town, it came the next morning as she was leaving Paul’s house. No sooner had she walked down the drive than a cheery female voice called out, “Mornin,” Katie!“

  Katie halted, peering across the street. Mrs. Greco, the town librarian, was waving at her as she fetched her paper from the mailbox.

  “Hi, Mrs. Greco,” Katie managed to call back. She could just imagine what the old woman was thinking.

  “Beautiful morning, isn’t it?”

  “Lovely,” Katie returned, desperately stabbing her car door with her key.

  Slept with Paul van Dorn? she imagined Mrs. Greco calling.

  Twice, Katie imagined calling back.

  How was it? Mrs. Greco asked as another neighbor came out of her house and stood on the lawn, listening.

  Great! Katie replied.

  “Have a nice day,” the real Mrs. Greco concluded, ducking back into her house.

  “You, too,” said Katie, sliding into her car. It took every ounce of restraint not to peel out.

  Driving back to her mother’s house, Katie wondered how soon Mrs. Greco would tell everyone she saw Katie Fisher creeping out of Paul van Dorn’s house early Saturday morning. She hadn’t really been creeping, but still.

  It shouldn’t matter, Katie told herself.

  But it did.

  It wasn’t just Liz Flaherty making her life hell that concerned her, or fear it could hurt Tuck. It was coupledom and all the trappings that went with it. She’d worked hard to get the hell out of Didsbury. Getting serious with Paul threatened that.

  Still, they’d had a wonderful night and morning together. He was a skillful lover, strong and considerate. And he did have a bed: King-size and luxurious. It had been so nice to be able to spread out after sleeping in the single bed of her childhood.

  She pulled into her mother’s driveway and killed the engine, checking her watch. Nine a.m. Opening the front door to her mother’s house, she was greeted by, “OH, THANK GOD!” and the sound of a chair scraping back in the kitchen. Two seconds later her mother appeared in the living room, wild-eyed. She’d been crying. “There you are!” Her mother threw her arms around Katie. “Thank God you’re alive!”

  “What?” Katie asked, mystified. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tuck’s head peek around the corner then disappear.

  “I was worried sick when you didn’t come home last night! If you weren’t here by noon I was going to call the police.”

  Katie grasped her mother gently by the shoulders. “Mom, you knew I was going over to”—she lowered her voice in case little ears were listening—“Paul van Dorn’s last night, remember?”

  “Yes, of course I know you were at Paul’s,” her mother replied impatiently. “But I figured you’d be home by midnight! And then as the hours went on and on—”

  “I spent the night,” Katie blurted.

  The living room throbbed with silence.

  “You spent the night?” her mother said. “Couldn’t you have called to let me know?”

  “I didn’t think you were going to wait up for me, Mom.”

  “Of course I was going to wait up for you! You know I don’t sleep until all my chickadees are in bed, safe and sound.”

  Cradling her mother’s elbow, Katie steered her toward the couch. “I’m not a chickadee,” she reminded her as they sat down. “I’m a grown woman. I don’t need to account to you for my actions.”

  “Who’s talking about accountability?” her mother asked. “How about some simple consideration?”

  Katie blushed. “I’m sorry. I just assumed you’d know where I was.”

  “Oh, and why is that?” her mother snapped. “Do you make it a habit of sleeping around?”

  Katie took a deep breath, taking her mother’s hands between her own.

  “Mom, I’m not Mina,” she said in a quiet but firm voice. “I’m not going to disappear for days on end. I’m not going to climb out of my window in the middle of the night. I’m not going to bring home a new guy covered in tattoos every two weeks. You’re not going to have to sit by the phone waiting for a call from the police. Okay?”

  Her mother looked away.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call you,” Katie continued, “but I really thought it would be fairly obvious where I was.”

  Her mother stared hard. “I don’t like it. I don’t approve of it.”

  “Well, I’m sorry about that, but I’m twenty-eight years old. I’m going to do what I want, whether you like it or not.”

  Her mother was silent.

  “I could get my own place,” Katie offered.

  Her mother’s head whipped around. “No! I love having you here. And it would break Tuck’s heart if you left.”

  “Well, if you want me to stay,” said Katie, “you’re going to have to get used to the fact that I might be spending some nights with”—her voice dropped again—“Paul.”

  Her mother looked perplexed. “Why do you keep lowering your voice every time you mention Paul van Dorn?” she boomed.

  Katie covered her face with her hands. God help me, she thought, by the time this day is over, my night with Paul will be the lead story on the local news.

  “Because. Of. Tuck,” Katie said through gritted teeth. “Paul is his coach. I just think it would be awkward for Tuck if he knew, you know—”

  “I understand,” her mother said quickly as she looked at Katie with hopeful eyes. “Is it serious?”

  “Is what serious?”

  “You and you-know-who,” her mother whispered.

  “Define serious,” said Katie, straining to look around the comer to see if Tuck was sitting at the bottom of the stairs listening to every word being said.

  “Serious,” her mother repeated dreamily, a faraway look coming into her eyes that Katie associated with zombies. “As in—”

  “No.”

  Her mother blinked with surprise. “You don’t know what I was going to say!”

  “Yes, I do, and the answer is no.”

  “Yet you’re sleeping with him.” Her voice was sour with disapproval.

  “Yup,” said Katie, refusing to be apologetic. “That’s the way things work here in the good old twenty-first century.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “You’ve made that very clear,” Katie said sweetly, patting her mother’s hand. “Now, I’m going to m
ake some coffee. Would you like some?”

  Aunt Katie, 7 “

  Katie had no sooner reached the top of the stairs than Tuck came scurrying out of his room, his socks making him slip on the wooden floor. She could tell just by looking at his face that he’d heard at least some of what had been said.

  “Yes, sweetie?”

  “You’re not going to move out, are you?”

  Katie looked at him steadily. “Why would you think that?”

  Tuck shuffled his stockinged feet.

  “You were listening in on me and Nana, huh?”

  “No!”

  “It’s okay,” she assured him. “C’mon, let’s talk.”

  Katie led him back to his room, which was surprisingly neat. She’d expected piles of stinky boy clothes, scattered books and CDs, an unmade bed. Instead she found his bed made and everything in its place. She wondered how much of it had to do with her mother’s insistence on tidiness, or whether it was a reaction to the chaos of life with Mina. Probably both.

  She perched on the end of his bed. “What did you hear?”

  Tuck shrugged.

  “You’re not going to get in trouble, I promise you. Just tell me.”

  Tuck’s eyes met hers uneasily. “I heard you asking Nana if she wanted you to move out and I heard Nana being mad at you because you were at Coach van Dorn’s all night.”

  Shit. The kid had bat hearing.

  “Anything else?”

  Tuck shrugged again.

  “Okay, Tuck. I need you to listen.” Katie almost burst out laughing as his eyes opened wide in a pantomime of super attentiveness. “First of all, I’m not moving out until it’s time for me to go back to Fallowfield. I only said it because sometimes grownups do things that other grownups don’t like, and I thought it might make Nana happier if she didn’t have to worry about me.”

  “Because Nana didn’t like you being with Coach all night,” Tuck observed.

  “Right,” Katie answered, heat rushing to her cheeks. This was harder than she thought.

  “Is the coach your boyfriend?” Tuck asked hopefully.

  “He’s—my friend.” Was that the right answer? Apparently not, if the dubious look on Tuck’s face was any indication.