A Love for All Seasons (14 page)

Birthday

J
ack
listened as Alicia sang the Happy Birthday song, changing “you” to “us.”

They strolled along the beach of Long Island Sound, walking off the heavy lunch Martha prepared for them. “That was a great meal,” Jack said. “I don't know what kind of sauce Martha put over that catfish, but it's just as good as any I've tasted in New Orleans.”

“She's a fabulous cook. The funny thing is, she learned to make a lot of those sauces after she started working for my parents because that's what they liked to eat. Before that she just made basic meals, meat, vegetable, starch. She swears by Emeril Lagresse.”

“I intend to have some more of that bread pudding.”

“Martha always makes me a special lunch for my birthday,” Alicia explained. “If there's one bad thing about being born on Christmas Eve, it's that you can't really go out to dinner because just about everyplace closes early.”

“Morton's is open 'til ten.”

She looked at him curiously. “And you know that how?”

“Because I made a reservation for seven-thirty.”

“Oh, Jack! You didn't!”

“I wasn't sure if you had anything in particular you wanted to do.”

She reached for his hand. “I can't think of anyplace else I'd rather do on my birthday than have dinner with you at Morton's.”

 

At ten-fifteen they left the restaurant, arm in arm. The remnants of the snowfall of ten days before still lay in dirty clumps on the ground. A handful of cars remained in the parking lot, and Jack felt sure that others still sat in the valet lot on the other side. He felt a little sorry for the staff, who surely wanted to go home and get to bed.

He wanted to do the same, but with a twist. He didn't want to go to sleep.

Once Jack starting entertaining the notion of making love to Alicia, he couldn't get it out of his mind. He unlocked the doors to his Aviator SUV with the remote a few yards before they reached it and helped her into it.

“Do you live far from here?” she asked as they drove away.

He blinked. Did she have ESP or something? “No, not at all.” He turned his head. “Would you like to see where I live?”

“I'd love to.”

He had them there in ten minutes, helped by the lack of traffic at ten-thirty p.m. on Christmas Eve.

“Nice,” she said, taking in the redbrick garden-style condo buildings.

“It's old—it was built in Nineteen Fifty-Two—but I didn't want to live in a high rise. I never have.”

She thought of his upbringing in a small Southern town. “No, I wouldn't imagine you would have. But I spent the first nine years of my life in a high-rise condominium. We lived on the twelfth floor. I remember my mother always telling us to stay away from the windows. She was so afraid one of us would fall out.”

“I wouldn't want to raise children in a high rise, even if it's someplace luxurious, like the Trump Tower. To me they don't mix.” He pointed with his right hand. “This works for me, too, because the Metro-North station is right over there, and it was reasonably priced, considering the outrageous cost of real estate in this area,” he continued. “Fortunately, someone rented my house in Birmingham last month, so I only had to pay two mortgages for two months.”

“Holding on to the old pad, huh?”

He unlocked the door to his unit and pushed it open, flicking on a light for her. He waved a hand for emphasis as he showed her around. “Living room.”

She took in the sparsely furnished but neat room, with its eclectic mix of plaid sofa and leather rocker, and its plasma TV hanging above a console table that held a compact stereo.

“Dining area.”

A round Colonial style cherry wood table and four matching chairs.

“Kitchen.”

Square in shape, with a microwave over the stove, a window over the sink, and a narrow counter between the refrigerator and a stackable washer and dryer.

“Bathroom.”

She glimpsed a tub with glass doors.

“Bedroom.”

The room she'd been most anxious to see. Jack slept in a king-sized bed that dominated the room. An easy chair was positioned at an angle to make for comfortable TV viewing. A six-drawer highboy in the same stained pine as the TV cabinet completed the ensemble.

“I like it,” she said. “You don't like clutter any more than I do.”

“For every piece of furniture there is a purpose,” he said with a smile.

“How about trying to finish our cake?” she suggested.

He put some music on while she heated the small, round chocolate cake with hot fudge that was a Morton's specialty in the microwave. “Let's have it out here,” he called. He lifted the convertible coffee table into the upright position, where it often doubled as a desk and an eating area.

“Isn't that convenient?” she said when she saw the table. “Uh…do you have any wine?”

“I think I've got some Korbel, if you're in the mood for champagne. I'll get it,” he said at her nod.

He returned with a bottle of champagne to find her leaning back on the sofa, her hand on her stomach. “Good thing birthdays come just once a year. My goodness. If I ate like this every day I'd be wide as this couch.”

“There's no place like Morton's for a good prime rib.”

“Do they have locations in Birmingham?”

“Unfortunately, no. I went there when I went to Dallas or Houston on business. In Birmingham the nicest steak house among the chains would probably be Ruth Chris.”

She nodded thoughtfully. She wondered whom he'd brought to dine with him. It had to be somebody special. The tongue-twisting titled Ruth's Chris' Steak House was nearly as expensive as Morton's.

“Something on your mind?”

“Oh, I was just wondering who the special lady was that you brought to eat at Ruth Chris.”

“Are you jealous?”

He obviously found that scenario enjoyable, judging by his smile. She grinned back at him. “To quote a friend, ‘I don't like it.'”

Jack raised his eyebrows. She liked the way he expressed himself with his brows. Not in that exaggerated Groucho Marx sort of way, but they did tend to shoot upward when something surprised him.

“But I won't go out for a walk and end up in Green's Farms.”

They laughed together, and Jack liked the fact that they could make fun of his rather childish behavior of less than two weeks ago. He still felt ashamed of what he viewed as no better than a temper tantrum. In hindsight, he felt he could have handled the situation in a much more mature manner.

He opened the champagne with a loud pop, then poured two glasses' worth. He raised his glass to her. “Happy birthday, Alicia.”

“Happy birthday, Jack.”

They clicked glasses and sipped, their eyes never leaving each other's face. “Funny,” she whispered. “All of a sudden I'm not hungry anymore.”

“I am, but not for chocolate cake.” He leaned in close, and she closed her eyes expectantly, only to be surprised when he pressed his lips to her forehead.

He pulled back, looked into her eyes, and leaned forward again, this time diverting at the last minute and kissing her chin. She held her breath as he pulled back twice more, pressing his lips to each of her cheeks. Excitement built up in her like a rapid snowfall. She wanted to scream at him to kiss her.

At last he touched his lips to hers. Her arms went around his neck, and she felt his hands on her back.

He increased the pressure, and suddenly she felt herself moving. Jack smoothly slid her onto his lap. Just moments later Alicia felt herself falling backward. Jack didn't miss a beat as he lowered her to a supine position. He tore his mouth away from hers and began nibbling on her neck and up to the side of her jaw. With one hand he grasped and gently squeezed her breast. Her nipples had hardened through the fabric of her sweater.

Music played at a low volume, but it became secondary to their pleasured moans.

“It's too cramped on this couch,” Jack said between breaths. “Let's go to the bedroom.”

She nodded her consent. He rose first, then held out a hand to help her. The moment she was on her feet he took her in his arms and kissed her again, grasping her hips and pressing them into his groin. “Feel what you do to me,” he whispered.

He moved his hands to her sides, running them up and down from just above her waist to her thighs, over the indentation of her waist and the curve of her hips. Alicia stood close to him, having no desire to back out of his embrace.

At last they reluctantly parted a few inches. His large hand cupped her jaw as he gazed at her with an unreadable expression in his dark eyes. “I want you to be sure, Alicia.” He pressed his index finger against her lips when she opened them to speak. “There's no going back, no pretending this never happened. This isn't just you and one of your playmates falling into the sack for a good time. A man who cares about you very much wants to make love to you…very much. If you can't, or don't want to, handle that, I'll understand.” Only then did he remove his finger. God help him if she decided he was asking too much of her. As far as he was concerned they'd already crossed a line that couldn't be backtracked.

But she held his gaze and quietly said, “I'm sure, Jack.” He kissed her once more, removing the pins that held her French roll in place and threading his fingers through the strands of her hair that fell around them.

 

Jack felt like he'd been living for this moment as he watched Alicia disrobe in his bedroom. He hadn't made love in months, and then it had been little more than sexual release. The woman he'd dated in Birmingham had flown up to Connecticut shortly after his move to make their break official. There'd been mutual fondness, but no real emotional connection for either of them. It couldn't begin to compare to a man making love to the woman he loved.

Under Alicia's sweater and pantsuit she wore a silky navy teddy set trimmed in lace, the tight-fitting top hugging her torso and letting her breasts stand naturally. He thought it the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. They lay in the center of the bed, him wearing nothing but under-shorts. His erection jutted out from his body, but he felt freed from the burden of trying to conceal it. He moved atop her, but she pushed him away, murmuring, “Wait.”

He watched, propped on one elbow and breathing hard, as she raised her body, crossed her arms and pulled the top of her fitted camisole over her head, then slid the bottom half over her hips. His breath caught in his throat. She wore no bra, and even in the darkness he could see how beautifully she was formed, the round thighs, the belly with the tiniest pouch just above her groin, the smallish breasts with round areolas and nubs at their centers. As many times as he had mentally undressed her, he never imagined she would be this lovely. She wasn't voluptuous, but nor was she skinny. And, as he so desperately wanted to believe, she was all his.

He ran a hand over her naked flesh, knowing the time had come to explore the rest of her as intimately as he had her mouth. He proceeded to do just that, taking his time and savoring every second. When she fell back trembling and moaning, he knew he'd pleased her.

He nuzzled her earlobe and licked the skin behind it, loving how she twitched with delight at the sensation. “I've got protection in my wallet. I'll be right back.”

He went to his slacks, removed the condom and applied it. He turned to see Alicia lying down but looking at him intently, her hair fanned out against the pillow like he'd visualized so many times before. He knelt beside her on the bed and held out a hand. When she took it he pulled her into a sitting position. His arms went around to her back, his hands bracing her gently. They leaned toward each other, and her eyes fluttered shut….

Alicia moaned softly as Jack kissed her senseless. She laid her palms on his chest and ran her fingertips over his sparse chest hair, knowing he supported her back and wouldn't let her fall. She sucked and nibbled at his lips. When at last he eased her back toward the mattress she felt weightless. She had felt this way many times, but this time it was special. She knew it was because of Jack. He affected her like no other man ever had.

Her lower body shuddered as she accepted his flesh into her own. For a few moments they simply lay still. She heard him gasp, felt his breath on her neck, could hear his tattered inhalations. “Alicia,” he said softly in his special way. She felt his male muscle twitch inside her. Never had anything felt so utterly delicious.

Slowly Jack began the familiar push-pull rhythm. She began to move underneath him, feeling like she was floating. They loved each other slowly and deeply, each resisting the urge to join together furiously like scissor blades. When she could stand no more pleasure she held him tightly and cried out, her back arching and her legs contracting around his back. His escalating grunts told her that he, too, had reached a climactic moment.