Why Not Tonight?

He stirred behind her, and his arm tightened around her waist, his fingers flexing on her breast. She heard him inhale then he nuzzled the back of her neck with his warm lips, while his morning erection nestled more firmly against her bare buttocks. With a smile, she reached back and ruffled his hair.

“Good morning,” she whispered. “Or is it good afternoon?”

“Uh-oh,” he said in a sleep-husky voice. “A pop quiz. And I didn’t study.” With a smooth motion, he rolled her onto her back, then settled himself on top of her, bracing his upper body on his forearms.

She looked up at him, his blue eyes still hazy with sleep, his dark hair mussed and spilling onto his forehead, whiskers darkening his jaw. He looked decadent and delicious, like a man who’d spent the night making love then falling into exhausted slumber after the last orgasm was fired.

Brushing back his hair, she huffed out a short laugh. “How is it that a man wakes up as good-looking as when he went to bed, but a woman somehow deteriorates during the night?”

His gaze roamed over her and he shook his head. “No deterioration on you, sweetheart. In fact, you’re even more gorgeous.” He lifted his head and sniffed the air. “And you smell like bacon. God, I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

“That’s not me. It’s Mr. Finney. He cooks up a full breakfast on his grill every Sunday morning. Bacon, eggs, pancakes. I have a standing invitation, one which includes bringing a guest.”

“Tempting. But the bacon’s not ready yet, and, um, I am.” He gave her an exaggerated leer and a suggestive nudge with his hip.

She bit the inside of her cheeks to keep from laughing. “Don’t tell me you’re all ready already.”

“Okay.” He rocked against her again, shooting sparks of pleasure through her. “But something tells me you’re going to come to that conclusion all on your own.” He bent his head and slowly drew her nipple into his mouth.

“Hmm. How do you know the bacon isn’t ready yet?”

“My keen sense of man-smell,” he said, his voice vibrating against her breast. “I know fully cooked bacon when I smell it, and that bacon has another…” he lifted his head and sniffed “…at least another four minutes to go.”

“Oh, good,” she said, reaching for a condom. “And here I thought we’d be rushed.”

TWENTY MINUTES LATER, fresh from a very delicious orgasm and a very fast, very cold shower, Mallory and Adam walked up Mr. Finney’s driveway.

“Let’s not stay too long,” Adam said in a low voice. “I feel my second wind coming on.”

“Second?” Mallory asked, trying not to laugh. “I think you’re on at least your fourth or fifth wind. We can’t just eat and run.”

“I really think we’ll have to. I’m discovering that when it comes to you, I’m sharing impaired.”

Before Mallory could think up a reply to that startling statement, they’d arrived at the cedar gate leading to the backyard. Mr. Finney, busy at the grill and wearing a festive red apron emblazoned with the slogan Kiss the Cook over his tropical-print shirt, caught sight of them and motioned them in with a pair of tongs.

“Good morning,” he said, his face lighting up with a smile. “You’re just in time for breakfast.”

Surrounded by air redolent with the smoky flavor of bacon, they walked across the deck to the grill. After exchanging greetings, Mallory held up the bag she carried. “We brought eggs, sausages and bagels.”

“Great. I’ll put them on the grill. Make yourselves at home. We’re having mimosas.”

“We?” Mallory asked, setting down the bag near Mr. Finney.

“Sophia and I.”

Mallory peeked at Adam over her shoulder, raised her eyebrows and silently mouthed Oooooh…Sophia?

At that moment, the back screen door opened and Mrs. Trigali stepped from the house onto the deck.

“Good morning, Mallory, Adam,” she said, her face wreathed in smiles. “I see you survived the blackout. Would you like a mimosa?”

“That sounds lovely,” Mallory said, smiling in return. “I’ll help you.” She looked at Adam then pointed to the bag of eggs, sausages and bagels. “Men cook with fire on grill while women prepare festive drinks.”

“Okay, but I did warn you that I don’t know how to cook.”

“Oh, Ray will show you,” Mrs. Trigali said, nodding toward Mr. Finney, who was turning slices of bacon. “The man’s done nothing but brag about that grill all morning. ‘This baby can do anything,’ he says. Ha! I say. If it could vacuum and do dishes, then I’d be impressed.”

“I’ll check it out,” Adam said, shooting them a thumbs-up.

Mrs. Trigali took Mallory’s arm and led her to the patio table in the far corner where a carafe of orange juice and an open bottle of champagne stood.

After taking two plastic cups from the supply on the table, she looked at Mallory over the edge of her bifocals. Then she smiled and said in an undertone, “No need to ask how your evening with Adam went, my dear. You’re practically glowing.”

“We had a nice time,” Mallory managed to say with a straight face, although obviously the heat scorching her cheeks gave her away. Sitting in one of the patio chairs under the large umbrella, she handed Mrs. Trigali the carafe of orange juice. “How did the block captains’ meeting go?”

To Mallory’s surprise, Mrs. Trigali’s face turned bright red. “It was…fine.”

“Oh, boy. Did you and Mr. Finney argue?”

“Not…exactly.” She turned toward Mallory and bit her lip. Then she said in a rush, “As a matter of fact, we got on rather well together.”

“You did? Well, that’s great.”

“I taught him how to play canasta. He’s really awful, but since I like to win, that worked out fine. Then he taught me how to play poker. I won at that, too, but he claimed it was only beginner’s luck and he’d win next time.”

“Next time? That sounds promising. I must admit I was surprised to see you here for breakfast.”

Mrs. Trigali lifted her chin. “A woman’s gotta eat.”

Mallory laughed, but her amusement faded as her gaze riveted on Mrs. Trigali’s neck. She cocked her head to get a better view, then her eyebrows shot up. “Why, Mrs. Trigali,” she whispered, “is that a…hickey? ”

Mrs. Trigali’s hand immediately fluttered to her neck and her blush deepened. “Oh, dear. I told him to have a care, but heavens, who’d have thought that a man who was such a pest could kiss so well?” She leaned toward Mallory and confided, “I’ve decided that I misjudged him. He’s not such a pest after all. And he’s very fond of my cherry lip gloss.”

At that moment Mr. Finney looked toward them from the other side of the deck where he stood in front of the grill with Adam. He sent Mrs. Trigali a broad wink and she fluttered her fingers at him in return.

Mallory smothered a laugh. “I’m glad you two have become, um, better friends.”

“Well, it’s all the fault of the blackout, my dear. Being alone with someone in the dark can put things in an entirely different light-so to speak.” She handed Mallory her mimosa then sat down across from her. “Did a night alone in the dark with Adam change your mind about not seeing him again?”

No, her better judgment shouted. Yes, her heart hollered. She sipped her drink, then shook her head. “We had a great time, but nothing’s changed.”

Mrs. Trigali reached out and patted her hand. “I’m sorry, dear. You two seem so well suited. Life’s a dance-you should find a partner.”

“True. But I need to choose a partner who enjoys the same type of music I do.”

“I suppose. But half the fun is learning new dance steps. I sense some fireworks between you and your Adam.”

Your Adam. How was it that two simple words could make her feel so unsettled? “So do I. And I don’t like it.”

“Why not?”

She heaved a sigh. “Because I don’t want to get burned.”

Mrs. Trigali nodded slowly. “I understand. When I first met my Lou, he made my heart beat fast and my knees feel like overcooked pasta. It was thrilling, yet almost frightening. Luckily I don’t scare easily, and for forty years that man weakened my knees. Never forget, my dear, that life isn’t measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away. If this young man takes your breath away, think twice before you let him get away.”