Drew linked his arms behind Mallory’s back and pulled her even closer, until her full breasts grazed the front of his down vest. “Mallory? You okay with this?”
She didn’t answer. Her moss-colored eyes looked glazed, like a pond after winter’s first freeze. Drew wondered if he’d taken leave of his senses. There was nothing “friend-like” about his hands running the length of her back, or his pelvis automatically pressing forward at the feel of her belly.
He bent to the soft curve of her ear. “Should we practice our breathing?” He took air in and then blew gently, a quieter, more seductive version of the technique they’d learned at the prenatal class.
Mallory’s eyes fluttered closed, and his throat went dry.
The last time he’d kissed Mallory this way, they’d ended up making love. She’d gotten pregnant. Now everything was different, and so much more complicated.
He couldn't kiss her just because he felt like it. Or because she had skin that glowed, and freckles that danced, and hair that reminded him of ripe wheat in fall.
He had to consider consequences.
Yet hadn't he made up his mind on the drive back from Toronto? He was going to be the publisher of the Gazette. An image of his name under a major national front-page story came and quickly went. He’d covered some fine stories in his time— shouldn’t that be enough?
He was going to stay. From there, kissing Mallory was such a logical step—and something he’d wanted to do for a long time.
He felt a stillness in her body that conjured up the metal Slinky they’d played with as children. In his mind he saw it poised on the edge of the top stair at his house, just waiting for a tiny push to go bouncing down the steps.
She was like that Slinky. All she needed was the touch of his lips and she’d be alive in his arms. He just knew it.
“Or we could practice kissing." He brushed his lips along the skin from her ear to her cheek.
“I don’t think that’s in the curriculum."
Was she telling him to stop? But she’d tilted her head toward him, and her hands had moved from his shoulders to his back. She seemed to want him to move even closer.
“It’s in my curriculum,” he assured her. Her lips were moist and inviting. Surely pale apricot was the most delicious color he’d ever seen.
“Mine, too.” She opened her eyes for a second before he lowered his mouth to hers, and then it was exactly as he’d guessed. Her hands pressed into his back and her mouth parted sweetly.
She was uncoiling faster than he’d imagined, and he was having no difficulty keeping up.
He supported the back of her head with one hand, while with the other he drew her waist to him. He needed her close as he explored her sweetness, the details of which were slowly coming back to him, like forgotten fragments of a forbidden dream.
“I guess I was wrong.” He pulled back, breathless, amazed, confounded. “We don’t seem to need any practice after all.”
She flashed a smile. “I’d say we pretty much got it right”
Drew steadied himself with a hand on either side of her hips. One kiss was not supposed to do this to a man. He had to get a grip. Make sure he hadn’t read the situation wrong.
“Was I out of line?”
There was just a fraction of a pause before she replied, “You were absolutely in line.”
He couldn’t stop from grinning. “You, too.”
But now what? He felt a sliver of trepidation. Maybe he should have given this more thought before he kissed her.
But hell, several months ought to be enough.
“Don’t mull it over too long,” Mallory said, putting a hand to his lips.
“That’s the kind of good advice a man doesn’t get often enough. If I shouldn’t think, what should I do?”
“Order a pizza. Pick a movie. It is Friday, after all.”
And what about after the pizza, after the movie? He was almost afraid to think the questions, let alone ask them.
“What was your favorite scene?” Drew inquired many hours later at Mallory’s. He’d let her choose another romantic comedy, even though he’d come across a legal thriller that looked enticing. Getting the comedy instead had been worth it, though, to see that goofy smile on Mallory’s face and to catch the occasional tear sliding down her cheek.
They were sitting on the couch, their feet propped up on the coffee table beside the pizza box. Inside lay the single remaining slice, the cheese wrinkled, the veggies limp. It was so unappetizing that even Doug, who was curled on the floor beside Drew, had stopped eyeing the box longingly.
Mallory was wearing baggy gray sweatpants and an old gray T-shirt with a hole at the hem. It was almost as though she’d dressed that way to discourage any further sexual thoughts on his part, but if that was her intention, then her strategy hadn’t worked. Ever since he’d walked in the door, he’d been aware of her womanly body, the natural beauty of her face.
“My favorite scene? I’d have thought that was obvious.”
“In the park? At the end?”
She nodded. “When Katherine finally realizes he’s the one she’s been in love with all along. It’s just so romantic.”
And completely unrealistic, Drew mused, but didn’t say. Instead, he nodded. “I know what you mean.”
“You do not, you fraud.”
She laughed and punched him gently in the arm. He reached out quickly to capture her hand before she could withdraw it.
“I’ve been doing a lot of ‘not’ thinking about what happened this afternoon.”
“That’s good. I think.”
“And I want to do it again. Just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke.” He put her hand next to his chest so she could feel how fast his heart was beating. So she might have some idea how badly he wanted her.
“It probably was a fluke. You probably can’t kiss that nicely again.”
“Oh, you are a witch.” He pulled her to him, then fell back against the arm of the couch. She landed on top of him and squirmed until she was resting on her side, facing him. He had to keep his hand on her back to prevent her from rolling off.
“Yes,” she agreed. “But I’m a very good witch.”
“Really?” Those lips were such a temptation. “Why don’t you show me?”
Somehow, they ended up on a quilt on the floor. Mallory was lying on her back, and he was propped up on his elbow, watching her.
He took in the length and curves of her body, stopping at the mound of her belly. Gently, he lifted the bottom of her T-shirt so he could see the full rounded shape of her.
“Your tummy feels so firm.” That had amazed him from the beginning. He’d expected it to be mushy.
“Claire told me Kirk finds her sexy when she’s pregnant. Can you believe that?”
“Six months ago, no. Now—definitely.”
Apricot flush highlighted Mallory’s cheekbones; she pushed against his chest half-heartedly. “Don’t mock me, Drew.”
“I couldn’t be more sincere.” And he was more than ready to prove it to her.
Holding her gaze, he pulled the T-shirt higher to reveal the swollen mounds of her breasts. The sight stole his breath, even hidden as they were under a utilitarian beige maternity bra.
“Wow.” Great. He sounded like a schoolboy.
She laughed softly. “I always wondered what it would feel like to be stacked.”
“Now you know.” He couldn’t tear his eyes away, but she didn’t seem to mind. She swallowed as he unhooked the clasp of her bra and slowly removed the cotton barrier from her skin.
Her breasts, their nipples dark and erect, cascaded from their confines. Reaching out to catch them in his hands, he felt a grinding ache in his loins.
“You are so beautiful. And desirable. Couldn’t you tell how hard it’s been for me to keep my hands off you?”
Her eyes lowered. “Come on, Drew. I’ve seen the women you’ve dated.”
“I haven’t thought about one of those women since I left Ottawa.” He bent his head to catch her eye. It was important that she believe him on this. Mallory was so special there was no one like her.
“I’m happy to hear that.” Tentatively, she reached for a button on his shirt.
He couldn’t believe how that small move on her part ignited him. His tension mounted as she continued to the next button and the next. Finally, when his shirt lay puddled on the quilt, he reached for her, desperate to feel the softness of her breasts against his lips.
“Lie back, Mal. It's my turn now.”
His control snapped the moment Mallory called out his name, her fingers digging into iris back, her pelvis rocking against his.
“Yes, Drew,” Mallory urged, encouraging him. “Let it go...”
The vortex of desire sucked him under. His thrusting became faster, harder. Would he hurt her?
But no—her body rose to meet his. “Yes, Drew. Yes.”
Yes. The word drove him over the edge. Yes, yes, he needed this, longed for it—
Suddenly, the seed exploded from his body, and the shock waves drove through his every nerve ending. He felt her legs clenched around him, her hands caressing his hair, his cheek, the length of his back.
Shifting his weight to the side, he held her close so they could remain linked for at least a few minutes longer. At some point they’d moved to her bed. Now he pulled the covers over her naked body.
“Are you okay?” His words came out in gasps.
“Better than okay.” She brushed her hair out of her face. He’d removed the elastic, and the springy curls flew everywhere.
“Yeah. I know what you mean.” He’d thought their first time had been pretty spectacular. But this. This had been volcanic.
“Drew?” Mallory’s breath was like honey on his cheek.
“Yeah?”
“If you tell me this was a mistake, I’ll kill you.”
“And if you tell me I need more practice, I’ll kill you.”
She laughed and rolled away from him.
“Hey. Where’re you going?” He felt cold without her. Cold and lonely.
“I’m getting some mineral water and strawberries from the fridge. I feel like celebrating.”
“I feel like celebrating, too, but couldn’t we celebrate by sleeping?”
He didn’t think she heard him. The fridge door opened with a squeak, then came the clink of glasses. Only a minute later she was back. She’d poured the mineral water into champagne flutes, and now she handed him one. He’d no sooner propped himself into a sitting position than she fed him a red berry, then kissed him.
Consequences.
Maybe the word wasn’t very romantic, but it was the one that popped into his mind.
There were things a man could do with regret and still live with himself later.
Walking away for the second time after making love with his best friend, who was now pregnant with his child, was not one of them.
“Will you marry me, Mal?”
His question landed in the night air like a pebble tossed into a lake. It seemed to Mallory she could see the ripples following one another endlessly to the limits of her imagination.
“Will I marry you?”
Whatever she’d expected, it hadn’t been this. The events of the day were almost too much. First, he’d told her he was staying in Port Carling. Then they’d made love. Now this.
She felt his arm circle her waist as he waited for her to reply.
It should have come instantly. It would have if she’d had only her heart to consider. She propped her head on her hand and looked at him closely. “Are you sure, Drew?”
Drew appeared annoyed at the question. “If you don’t want to marry me, Mallory, just say so.”
“I don’t want you asking me because you feel obliged. Because of the baby.” She pulled back, trying to prepare herself for his answer.
“Well, I don’t deny the baby is a factor. Of course it is. But I love you more than anyone else in the world. And obviously we've been repressing some great chemistry over the years. Baby, love, sex. That sounds like marriage to me. What about you?”
She kept looking at him. He was saying all the right things. Or was he? Somehow, something was missing. But what?
Then he leaned forward to kiss the corner of her mouth, nuzzling his chin against hers. Mallory relaxed into the intimate touch.
She must be crazy to hesitate. This was Drew, the only man she’d ever loved, the only man she ever could love. And he was asking her to marry him. “It seems like heaven to me,” she said.
“Can I take that as a yes?”
“You can.”
Drew kissed Mallory again, telling himself he’d done the right thing. She felt so good in his arms, and that was his baby in her belly.
Suddenly, she sat up. “I’m overwhelmed, Drew. In less than twelve hours you tell me you’re staying in Port Carling, then you ask me to marry you.”
He tilted his head to one side, trying to gauge her shift in mood. “This isn’t a preamble to you changing your mind, is it?”
“No. Of course not.” She wavered for a moment “I guess this means I can throw away that card my customer from Toronto gave me this afternoon.”
“Sorry? I’m not following.”
“After you left, a man came into the shop to buy a gift for his wife’s birthday. It was so sweet He’d driven all the way from Toronto because she had her heart set on a sweater she’d noticed last fall. Fortunately, I still had it in stock.”
“Yeah?”
“Anyway, I had a copy of the Hub of the Lakes Gazette on the counter, and he started reading it while I rang in the sale. He said he and his wife had been thinking of moving to a small town and buying a newspaper and did I know who owned the Gazette.”
“And you said, ‘No, I’ve never met the man... ’ ”
Mallory laughed. “I took his card and told him I’d give it to you. It’s sitting on the night table beside you.”
Drew glanced over his shoulder, and there it was, an innocuous white rectangle, lying next to the digital alarm clock and the bowl of strawberries.
That could have been my ticket out of here. With the paper sold, his family’s legacy to the town would have been secured and he could have returned to Ottawa in good conscience. He could have held on to Angie's house as a rental property. As for Doug, maybe Grady or Mallory would have kept him.
“Drew?” Mallory’s eyes were round with concern. “Do you want to give that guy a call?”
Guilt seared his gut. How could he have even thought those things? He loved Mallory and she needed him. Their baby needed him.
“Of course not. Throw the card away. I won’t be using it.”