Reunion in October (The Calendar Girls Book 2) (19 page)

“Whaddya mean?”

After so many hours of contemplation, the words actually came out easier than I anticipated. “I mean that I think you and I need some time apart. I’m not coming home when I’m discharged.”

“Don’t be stupid,” he retorted. “Of course you’re coming home. Where else are you gonna go?”

I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t breathe. My chest hurt, and I could practically feel the needle jumping on my EKG machine. Where would I go? To my mother’s? How would I get there? I couldn’t afford a plane ticket. Neither could my mom.

The curtain separating me from Margie ripped apart on a whoosh of cloth and steel rings. “She’s coming home with me.”

Chapter 14

Francesca

Josh showed up at my place right on time with a pizza and two movies, as promised. Stepping inside, he brushed his lips across mine, and an electrical charge sizzled through me.

To hide my confusion, I peeked at the plastic cases atop the large pizza box. “What movies did you bring?”

He swerved his bundle toward the wall to hide the titles from my view. “Two beauties.
I Was a Teenage Zombie Killer
and
Designer Shoe Shopping with Andre
.”

Ha ha. He wanted to play? Okay. Biting back a smile, I led him toward the kitchen. “Perfect. I have peach or strawberry wine coolers. Which do you prefer?”

He sucked in a breath so sharp, I could cut the pizza with it. “Now that’s just mean.”

Whirling to face him, I quirked my brows. “Teenage Zombie Killers and Designer Shoe Shopping, but
I’m
the mean one?”

After setting the pizza and movies on my table, he grabbed me around the waist and nuzzled my neck. “That’s why you’re my girl. You get my sense of humor and zing right back. You get me, and I get you. Not a bad trade-off, huh?”

While his mouth nibbled delicious shivers across my nape, I couldn’t come up with a single argument. In fact, I turned slowly so that his lips could capture mine. On a groan of approval, he fused to me. Every nerve ending in my spine zapped to a frenzy.
This
was what my life lacked. Someone to come home to, someone to call when my job became too intense, someone to hold me close and hold me up. His hands slipped to my hips, pressing me against him. I wound my arms around his neck and slid my legs in between his. He was hard and hot, a taste of mint on his tongue. I was soft and yielding. Together, we created a whirlwind that roared through me, sending all my senses into mayhem. A control freak to the max, I didn’t do mayhem well, and pleasure flipped to unease. Josh’s kisses could easily sweep me away, make me lose myself and my common sense.

Dizzy, I broke the kiss and removed my arms from his neck, struggling to regain composure. “Thanks for talking me down off the ledge earlier.”

If he’d experienced half of the tumult I had with our kiss, he didn’t show it. His face remained boyish and absolutely adorable. “No problem. Feeling better now?”

I managed to dig up a shaky smile. “Yeah.” My breathing still remained erratic so my reply came out as a husky whisper, which only intensified the sensuality glowing nuclear in the kitchen.

His hot gaze held me captive. “Good. Because you have a choice right now,” he murmured into my ear. “You can either feed me, or take me upstairs to that comfy-looking sleigh bed with the pretty yellow sheets.”

Aha. So he wasn’t as unmoved as I’d originally thought. He just managed to hide it better than I did.

“Tempting,” I admitted, but I stepped away, using my table as a barrier between us. Thoughts of making love with Josh, of his hard-chiseled, golden frame encasing me, loving me, roused a voracious appetite. In ten more seconds, I would toss the pizza and movies to the floor and use my kitchen table for something other than food. After last night’s tragedy, I craved confirmation of life. What better way than by indulging in the most sublime contact between a man and a woman? I inhaled a shuddering breath.

“But, you’re not ready,” he announced before I could voice my denial. Striding to the opposite side of the table, he flipped open the pizza box. “I got half plain and half pepperoni.” Again, his expression masked his true reaction.

Until I realized, non-reaction
was
his reaction.

In all the time I’d spent with him lately, he’d always been so easy to read: the flirt in the E.R., the insecure puppy when he asked where Michael and I stood, the jokester on the McNeills’ roof, all open and honest Josh. His disappointment in me created the mask of banality he now wore.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly. And I was.

He pulled out two chairs and sat in the closest one, his gaze locked on the pizza slices. “Don’t be.” When he looked up, a gleam of the usual Josh had replaced the automaton. “Because here’s the thing, Frannie. I know when you and I finally get together, it’s going to be amazing—the kind of stuff love songs are written for. So I’d rather have you as eager for that heat as I am, burning for that fire we’re going to blaze between us, rather than regretting it afterward. You have to be ready for it. And you’re not. Not yet. But you will be. Someday soon, you’ll realize we’re right for each other.”

I couldn’t speak. How was I supposed to react to that much confidence, that much passion? Not that it seemed necessary anyway because after his rousing speech, he returned his attention to the pizza. Separating a slice loaded with pepperoni from its compatriots, he waved a hand at me. “Sit. Dig in. We’ve got movies to watch.”

And there he was again: the Josh I knew, the one I’d grown accustomed to. The man who’d do anything to make me happy sat at my table, noshing on pizza and waiting for me to join him. So I did.

Any tension that still remained between us evaporated. Over normal conversation about our work, people we knew, and childhood memories, I managed to eat one plain slice and sip half a beer. Josh gobbled up three slices with pepperoni and downed two beers before he handed me the movies he’d picked up.

The first was the latest comic book action hero thriller. He tapped a finger on the plastic case. “That’s the chick flick for you.”

I looked at the cover. A man with bulging pecs, wearing a school bus yellow leotard, surrounded by buildings on fire and overturned cars, held a swooning woman attached to his waist. Meanwhile, a bizarre wizard in purple and silver curled his fingers menacingly from the corner. “This is the chick flick?”

“Duh.” He pointed at the man center stage. “Take a look at that face, those golden locks, that chiseled chest. You think that turns
me
on?”

A giggle escaped my tightened lips, and I flipped to the second movie case. “
Steel Magnolias
.”

“That’s for me,” he said without a hint of shame.

“That explains how you know the ending to
Pretty Woman
.” I balled up my napkin and tossed it at his nose, but with one swipe, he batted the missile away so it landed harmlessly on my floor. “You have a thing for Julia Roberts.”

“No.” He pulled me into his lap. “I have a thing for
you
. Julia’s just a shoddy replacement.”

I snuggled closer. “You are a powerful amphetamine to my ego.”

“That’s what makes us perfect for each other, Frannie.” His lips nuzzled my neck again. “Just being this close to you gets me higher than the strongest drug.”

Before he could drag me into the whirlwind a second time, I got up on shaky legs and started clearing the table.

He rose beside me and, after tossing out the napkins and replacing the grated cheese in my fridge, reached for a beer. “You want another?” he asked, holding up the green longneck bottle.

“No, thanks, I’m good.”

“Okay.” He closed the door with his hip and flipped the top off the beer with the nearby bottle opener.

To my disappointment, he took a long swig. “That’s your third,” I reminded him.

He pulled the bottle from his lips, gave a satisfying, “Aaaaaaah!” and added, “Third and last. Promise. Pepperoni makes me thirsty.”

I glanced at the digital clock on my microwave. It was only eight-thirty. If he really did make this his last beer, his body would still have plenty of time during the two movies to burn off the alcohol. “Why don’t you set up the movie in the den while I finish cleaning in here?”

“You sure?”

I nodded.

He picked up the two cases. “You got it.”

While he strode toward my den, I putzed around in the kitchen, wiping down all the counters, replacing the contents of my salt and pepper shakers, and generally wasting time to give Josh’s metabolism extra time.

As I considered alphabetizing my spices, Josh called out, “Frannie? Are you coming?”

“Be right there.” I paused to align my dishtowels so the flowers from one matched perfectly against the stems on the other before making my way into the den.

On my loveseat, Josh patted the cushion beside him. “Come over here, you.”

I settled next to him, once again content to be in his embrace. Twisting the wrist of the arm wrapped around me, he clicked a button on my remote control, and the television burst to life. While his fingers played with my hair, I tried to concentrate on the movie about a mild-mannered mortal by day, who fought fiendish villains at night.

I have no idea how much time passed, but the next thing I knew, I jerked awake. On the television, the same four scenes played over and over with a prompt to “Hit Play.” I’d fallen asleep and missed the entire movie. Beside me, Josh was out cold as well, his head against the chair back and his fingers still entwined in my hair. Talk about a hot date. Wow. Both of us asleep before eleven.

Slowly, I eased myself out of his hold. The clock on my mantel read eleven-fifteen p.m. Where had the night gone? With my brain trying to recall the last thing I remembered from the evening, I headed for the hall closet. I pulled out a blanket and an extra pillow and returned to where Josh slept. After placing the pillow near his head, I covered him with the blanket and kissed his forehead. “Goodnight, Josh.”

One last smile in his direction, and I left him sleeping there to take care of my household duties: locking the doors, turning down the heat, and shutting off the lights. In pitch darkness, I climbed upstairs to my bedroom.

I swear, I’d barely closed my eyes when my phone rang from the bedside table. Cracking one eye open, I felt sunlight sear my retinas, and immediately squeezed my lids tight. As the phone continued to jangle, I fumbled for the receiver and set it against my ear. “Hello,” I mumbled muddily.

“Babysitting again, Francesca?”

The voice didn’t immediately register. Nor did the comment. “Huh?”

“I asked if you were babysitting again.”

My eyes shot open, and I slid up against the headboard as familiarity slapped my brain into a more alert state. “Michael?”

“Yeah.”

Scorching rage built up inside me. “I thought I told you not to call me ever again. Never to talk to me again.”

“Yeah, well, I happened to drive past your house last night and saw Josh Candolero’s car in your driveway. Now, here it is, eight a.m., and lo and behold, his car’s still there. So I want to know if you’re babysitting that cretin again.”

Along with rage came a devil on my shoulder. “Not that it’s any of your business,” I snapped, “but yes, to answer your innuendo, Josh spent the night.” I purposely didn’t elaborate. Let his nasty mind go where it wanted. I was done with Michael, done with my mother’s matchmaking. Josh made me happy. Nothing else mattered. “Go back to Oregon, Michael. There’s nothing here for you.” I slammed down the receiver, then muted the ringer in case he had any intention of calling back.

Awake and irritated, I slipped on my robe and tiptoed downstairs to check on my overnight guest.

“Morning, sunshine.”

Josh, wearing nothing but his jeans and a smile, stood in my kitchen, fussing with my coffeepot. At the sight of his bare chest, bronzed from days in the sun and ripped from physical labor, I lost my bad mood—along with all the moisture in my mouth.

“Hi,” I managed to say through my dry throat. “Sorry if the phone woke you.”

Pushing the button to start the coffeemaker, he stepped closer. His arms pulled me into his embrace, and he kissed me, soft and sweet. “I’m sorry I fell asleep on you last night. Thanks for tucking me in.” Something in my posture must have retained tension because he ran a gentle index finger down my cheek. “Uh-oh. What’s wrong? Who called?”

“Wrong number,” I replied and tilted my head for another kiss.

He didn’t oblige. “You sure? You look…” While he separated us to arms’ length apart, his gaze skimmed me from head to toe. “…tight. Like you’re waiting for someone to throw rocks at you.”

I forced myself to relax, which was probably an oxymoron. “Don’t be silly. I’m fine.” I moved away from him to fuss with mugs and milk for the coffee. “What’s on your agenda today?”

“I’d like to say I planned to spend the day with you,” he said, “but I have to go to the site out in East Hampton. I’m just going to grab a cup of coffee to go. You have a travel mug I can borrow?”

“Sure.” I opened my cabinet door and pulled out a bright purple metallic thermal mug.

“Perfect. It’ll match my outfit.” He batted his lush eyelashes, and his fingers brushed my hand as he took the mug from me. “Thanks. What do you plan for today?”

“I don’t go in until midnight tonight. So I’ll do some yard work when it warms up a bit, then catch a few Zs before heading to the hospital.”

He brushed his lips across my forehead. “Good. I’ll come back to tuck
you
in.”

A thrill rippled through me, but I shook my head. “Not necessary. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Not if I call you first.”

Every time he spoke, I fell harder for his charm. This man seriously rang my bell. I wagged a finger near his nose. “Don’t call me at work. I need to concentrate, and you…you are a tremendous distraction.”

Grabbing my wrist, he pressed a kiss on the pad of my index finger. “That’s the best compliment I ever heard.”

Hot blood raced to my face. “Well, good. I would hate to think this relationship was all one-sided.”