“Your parents had a good marriage, then?”
“I don’t remember a lot, actually. I remember my mom was the only person I ever saw stand up to my huge father. My oldest sister said they would argue loud enough to rattle the windows, then make up just as fast.”
Next thing they knew, his mom was clearing the house of the kids, passing his sister Alicia money to take him and Darcy to the corner mart for soda and a candy bar. And take your time, kiddos, his mother had said, winking back at their dad.
God, that seemed like a world ago. Alicia grew up to fly fighter jets. She had earned a Silver Star and Distinguished Flying Cross. Little Darcy flew cargo planes around the world.
“When I was in elementary school, Mom died a couple of weeks after Christmas, a fluky aneurysm. No one could have seen it coming. Some said it was a blessing she didn’t know.”
“It must have been tough for you, though, not having the chance to say goodbye.”
“Sure.” Except he’d been there to say goodbye to Kevin and it hadn’t made things a damn bit easier.
Hank raked up beads from the table and twisted them around his fingers like he did when his sister Darcy made him play cat’s cradle. He would have done anything for his sister after what she’d been through when they lived in Guam… .
“My dad’s notoriety wasn’t tied into money or being married to Ginger. He gained attention for who he was. We all did.” He worked the beads, passing them over his fingers by rote. “When we lived in Guam, my sister Darcy was kidnapped.”
Gabrielle set the mask on the table and went completely still, her whole attention focused on him. It seemed even the night bugs went quieter, the traffic on the street fading away.
“An extremist group that wanted the military base gone from the island took her, grabbed her during a squadron family luau.” From him. “They kept her for a week. She wasn’t assaulted—thank God—but something like that marks a person.”
“It marks a family, I imagine.”
He let the beads slither from his hands. “I’m not sure why I’m telling you all of this.”
“Because I asked.” She slid from her chair to kneel in front of him, the feathery mask still clasped in her hand. “I’m wondering why I never asked in the year we knew each other.”
He tapped her forehead. “Turn off the analysis, Dr. Freud. There’s no hidden meaning here.” He slipped the mask from her hand and tucked it in his shirt pocket. “Just facts.”
Clasping his wrist, she pulled his hand down, kissed his palm, then pressed it to her cheek. “Facts that explain to me how it could be scary as hell for you to let a woman get too close to y—”
He hauled her up by her elbows and kissed her silent. It was one thing to fly into the painful midst of his past. It was a whole other matter to have Gabrielle peel away any defenses he had left.
Her lips parted without hesitation, the lingering taste of lemon sorbet on her tongue. He pulled her onto his lap, his hands finally, finally touching her, roving over her back, grazing the side of her lush br**sts. He skimmed down her waist and over her hips. He’d waited so long to touch her, he soaked up every detail. The hem of her mini dress bunched in his hands and next thing he knew he was touching bare flesh above the waistline of her leggings.
She thrust her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, not protesting one damn bit. Heat seared him inside and out. This attraction was no figment of anyone’s imagination, no faulty memory. This was real and intense.
And about to become more so.
Eight
Moving from the lanai to Hank’s bedroom passed in a blur of kissing, touching and frantic hands exploring as they climbed the steps and sealed themselves away from the world.
The door clicked shut, nestling them in the privacy of his bedroom.
Gabrielle pressed closer to Hank, couldn’t get near enough after so long of wanting to touch him, to explore the hard muscled planes of his body. She’d been trying to hold back from this ache for so long, and now she could finally have him. If only for tonight or whatever time he had left in New Orleans, she could finally surrender to the tenacious passion that tugged at them.
Her leg hooked around his, her foot stroking his calf. The scent of oregano and thoughtfulness clung to him. The home-cooked food, the lighted trees and table decorations all put together by him touched her more than any catered meal.
He nuzzled her ear, his breath almost as hot as her tingling flesh. “Are you sure this isn’t moving too fast for you?”
She gasped for breath, her pulse throbbing in her chest…and lower. “The way I kissed you last night didn’t clue you in?”
“I was hopeful, but there’s no timetable here, no rush,” he vowed against her hair, stroking her neck, her shoulders, cupping her br**sts in hands both bold and gentle at once.
“We’ve both been waiting a long time for this.” Even hinting at the past, at the conflicting feelings of a year ago chilled her, threatening to steal away this beautiful moment. “Let’s focus on here and now.”
His arms slid around her, steely bands of strength. “I always knew you were a brilliant woman.”
She kissed along the bristly texture of his jaw up to his ear. “This whole night has been amazing.”
“I hope it’s about to get even better.” He tunneled up her mini dress, thumbs hooking in the band of her leggings.
A delicious shiver slid over her at the feel of his touch on her bare skin.
“I would say that’s a safe guess.” Her head fell back, giving him free access to her neck.
His hands cupped new curves, lingering with infinite tenderness and appreciation. He made her feel beautiful and sexy, all the more special in the wake of having been pregnant. She reveled in the feel of his hard thighs pressed to her, his hips tight against hers.
He nudged aside the collar of her dress with his chin and nibbled along her shoulder, sending wisps of pleasure over her skin. “We need to move to the bed or this is going to happen against the door.”
“Is the door so wrong?” She tugged his chambray shirt from his khaki waistband and tucked her fingers in to urge him closer.
“Not at all—” he kissed upward until he looked in her eyes again “—except I’ve waited for you too long to rush.”
His voice rumbled with promise. He clasped hands with her and walked backward toward the looming mahogany four-poster bed. The rest of the room came into focus for the first time.
Seeing his sparse room made her realize just how much trouble he’d gone to for her and for Max. The spacious master suite contained only the bed, a massive armoire, since there were no closets in the historic home, and two wingback chairs by the fireplace. The space was as stark as the man, a wealthy frame but Spartan in presentation.
Her legs bumped the back of the mattress. She was really going to do this, steal a night with Hank. Nerves and anticipation mixed into an intoxicating swirl flooding her veins. Her fingers sped down the buttons of his shirt. She whipped the fabric from his shoulders and flung it aside, the feathery mask sailing out of the pocket.
She’d seen him in swim trunks before, but this was so very different, so intimate. She allowed herself the pleasure of just looking at him, taking in the thick column of his neck, his sculpted chest honed from the sun and exercise.
A scar grazed his collarbone.
Frowning, she traced the inch-long pucker of scar tissue. “What happened here?”
“Shrapnel.” He dismissed her question, clasping her hand and kissing her wrist, taking his time along her racing pulse. “Nothing big.”
Nothing big? The scar looked deep and close to his jugular vein. An inch over and she would have lost him, too. One heartbeat tripped over another before settling back into a regular rhythm.
Could this have happened when Kevin was killed? The thought threatened to ice her from the inside out.
Hank bracketed her face with his hands. “Stop thinking about it. That’s the past. Come back to living in the moment.”
His thumbs stroked her cheeks until she hooked her arms around his waist. “Make me forget, Hank, please.”
“I can’t think of anything I want more.” He slanted his mouth over hers again, his mouth warm and familiar now.
His bold, confident hands bunched her dress up—breaking the kiss for only a second—and swept the clothing over her head. His eyes turned blue-flame hot as he nipped his way down her body, between her br**sts, further down to peel off her leggings, his mouth following his hands. Kneeling in front of her, he tossed her pants into the growing pile of their clothes.
She hadn’t been with anyone since Kevin—since having a baby—and her body was different now. She didn’t consider herself shallow or overly vain. But this was her first time with stretch marks and an extra few pounds. Her mouth went dry.