God, he's cute...
The thought sprang to her head, quite uninvited, as she stepped back in from the diner. He stood in the center of the room with a towel wrapped around his waist, combing through his wet hair with his fingers.
He turned as she came in the door and frowned when he saw her there. "What? What's wrong?"
She blinked herself back into the moment. "Nothing," she said and held up one of the plastic bags she was carrying. "Two blue plate specials coming right up."
He took the food from her. "Thanks, I'm starving. What's in the other bag?"
She smiled and reached in the bag. "Some wine to warm us up a little."
"Ah, nothing like meatloaf and a nice full-bodied merlot. The day is beginning to look up," he said with a laugh.
She tossed the key on the dresser and crossed to the bathroom. "Go ahead and start without me. I'm going to hit the shower."
The bathroom was still steamy from Woody's shower. She stood motionless under the stream for a long while until a pleasant, tingly warmth returned to her fingers and toes.
God, he's cute? She rolled her eyes. Had she really allowed herself to voice it? About Woody? She shuddered a little. She'd actually used the word "cute," if only to herself.
But he was. He was cute in every good way that the word could mean, and the thought of him in a more-than-friends way always seemed to bubble forth whenever they were thrown together like this, whether in the middle of the California desert or a rundown motel in Milton, Massachusetts.
She smiled as she came back into the room. He gestured to the takeout box and Dixie cup of merlot on her nightstand. "Dinner is served. Here..." He tossed her his button-down shirt. "It's dry now. No need to put your wet clothes back on."
They sat on their beds, he in his boxer shorts, she wearing his shirt as a nightgown, eating a leisurely dinner and becoming contentedly full and warm. The conversation was easy and flowed as freely as the wine.
"Okay. Another question," she said. "First crush?"
He sighed and finished the last of his meatloaf. "Alissa Lane. She had red hair and green eyes and her dad got transferred to Milwaukee and it broke my five year old heart. You?"
"Ray McGee. He lived down the street. I used to beat him up every day after school, and I could never figure out why he didn't like me back. Next question. First love."
He took a sip of wine. "Girl back home in Kewaunee. We were sort of engaged to be engaged, I guess."
"What happened?"
He shrugged. "Just wasn't meant to be. I'm not sorry anymore. All right. Spill it, Cavanaugh. First love."
She wrinkled her nose. "Ahhh. I don't know. Maybe Paul. You met him. The priest? I always thought we'd probably end up married with a couple of kids."
"So, why didn't you?"
"Joining the priesthood kind of put a crimp in our plans." She laughed and then shook her head thoughtfully. "No. It was over long before he took his vows. I guess I knew that. It just wasn't...right, you know?"
"Yeah...I do." Their eyes met before she looked away.
"It would be nice someday, though. A family of my own." She looked back at him briefly. "Oh, I know what you're thinking. Jordan Cavanaugh a mother? Sounds crazy, huh?"
He didn't respond for a moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft and gentle. "No. I don't think it sounds crazy at all."
She changed the subject. "So. Your date. What's her name?"
"Amber."
"Amber?" she snorted. "So, she's what...a receptionist down at the precinct?"
"No. Actually, she's the new assistant district attorney."
Jordan gulped. "Oh. Great." She grabbed the bottle off the nightstand and refilled her cup.
"Yeah. I testified in a case she was prosecuting. I asked for her number, gave her a call..."
She took a slug of wine and drained her cup. "That's really more information than I need about your dating life, Woody."
He turned his head to her and looked at her curiously. Then, a sly smile spread across his face. "Jordan...you're jealous!"
"Pfffft!"
"You are! You're jealous!"
"Oh, I am not."
"You're jealous! Because you like me!" he said in a teasing sing-song.
"Do not!"
"Do too! You like me!"
"Do not!"
"Do too!"
"Do not!"
"Do too!" He jumped from the bed and did a gleeful little dance. "Jordan and Woody, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"
"Do not! Do not! Do not!"
And just when he thought he could not possibly love her any more than he did, her cheeks flushed scarlet, and her hands flew up to cover her face.
He stopped suddenly. "Oh my gosh...you really do like me."
"All right!" she finally blurted. "I like you I like you." She blushed again.
There was a moment of stunned silence. Then he crossed and sat on the edge of her bed. "Wow."
"But I've had half a bottle of wine, and I think I might have lost a few brain cells out there in the frozen tundra, so nothing I say here can be held against me, okay?" She closed her eyes. "Besides, you've got your life and I'm sure you and Amber will be very happy, so you don't have to..."
But he stopped her mouth with a kiss, long and slow, as he held her face in his hands . When they finally broke, her eyes fluttered open and he sat back looking at her anxiously.
"Oh, my," she exhaled.
They looked at each other for a moment. Then, he leaned forward and took her chin between his thumb and index finger and tilted her head back. She closed her eyes again and grazed his lips with her own, as his arm slipped around her yielding body. When it was over a long, long moment later, they were both breathless.
"Well, I can safely say that feeling has finally been restored to all parts of my body," he said in a rough voice.
"Which is why..."
"...we should stop," he finished. He rose from her bed and settled onto his own with a sigh.
She jumped up and smoothed her rumpled shirttails. "Well, uh, I guess I'll just go and freshen up. Get ready for bed." She shuffled awkwardly toward the bathroom, still flushed and flustered.
She stood in the doorway for a moment and looked back at him, and their eyes locked in a wistful gaze. He was on his feet then, jumping across the bed to get to her. He covered her face with kisses, as they both fumbled with the buttons of her shirt. They moved together across the room then, a tangle of arms, legs, and clothes as they fell with a tumble onto the bed with a full, throaty laugh.
The day was beginning to look up, indeed.
