The Bridesmaid

beneath the hem of her skirt and slid it up her thigh.

Kate’s sigh was long and sweet. It reminded Joe of contentment, the sort of sound one might make when returning home, to the place they were meant to be. Her arms encircled his neck, and she kissed him back, slowly now, savoring it.

Joe found the zipper in her skirt and pulled it down, and somehow, between the two of them, she shimmied out of it. Her blouse had come completely undone, and underneath it she wore a lacy red bra that made his blood boil. He rolled again, putting Kate on her back, and moved his hand higher, touching the soft flesh of her inner thigh.

When his fingers brushed the apex of her legs, Kate reached for his lounge pants, her fingers finding the tie and undoing it, then pushing them down his hips, wrapping her fingers around him. Joe stroked her and Kate moved against his hand. She made a small cry of pleasure and Joe couldn’t tolerate it another moment. He slid into her.

He began to move inside her, teetering on the edge of his own powerful climax, moving faster as Kate moved with him, her breath coming quicker and harder. Her fingers curled into his arms, and she suddenly lifted up, gasping with the sensation of her climax.

Joe couldn’t contain himself; he flew apart and rained down in tiny bits of himself onto that bed.

Moments passed—blissful, satiated moments—before Kate cupped his face and smiled.

He smiled, too, could feel the satisfaction of that smile reaching deep into him. He gathered her in his arms and kissed her cheek, her hair, and her mouth once more before settling down with her tucked into his side. He could feel her lips curve into a smile against his chest, her fingers tracing a long and lazy line down his side.

“I am so glad you missed your flight,” he said, still a little breathless.

“Me too,” she agreed and giggled.

Chapter 8

Sitting on the bed, nude but for the sheet wrapped loosely about her, eating half of a man’s burger and washing it down with his beer was the best post-coital experience Kate had ever had in her life.

She couldn’t stop grinning. She’d never had sex like that, and it was a revelation to her. So many thoughts and feelings were fighting for recognition in her, bits and pieces of them scattering about in euphoria.

This, Kate thought, was what she wanted. This, right here, with this guy, Joe Firretti.

She grinned at him again. Joe didn’t notice—he was too engrossed in the manuscript she was editing. He was propped up against a stack of pillows, the sheet covering him from the waist down. His brow was furrowed in concentration. Kate slipped her hand across his rock-hard abdomen, but Joe caught her wrist and squeezed lightly. “Stop that, you vixen,” he said without looking up from the pages. “I have never used the word ‘vixen’ in my life until this moment. But I have to find out if she’s going to let him in her house or not.”

“Of course she does.”

“Hey!” Joe protested, putting down the pages and casting a playfully stern frown at her. “Don’t tell me. That ruins it.”

Kate laughed. “If she doesn’t let him in, there’s no love story.”

“Oh. I get it.” He grinned and tossed the pages to the foot of the bed. “You’re an expert, I take it,” he said as he gathered her up in his arms. He kissed her, then snagged another fry. “Tell me what you like,” he said.

“What I like?”

“Yes.” He ate another fry. “What makes you happy? Puppies and ribbons? Rugby and scuba diving?”

Kate thought about that. “Shoes,” she said with a definitive nod.

“I should have guessed that based on the weight of your suitcase alone. What else?”

This was what Kate was discovering she particularly liked about Joe. Yes, the sex was amazing, but better still, he was willing to talk. About everything. She tried to remember the last time she’d lounged on a bed— naked—and talked about sports and books and popular TV shows. She wondered if she’d ever known someone who would laugh with her about politics, or know the best sushi places in New York, or agree with her that Justin Bieber actually had put out a few catchy tunes.

Kate was not one for cliches. In the books she edited, she weeded them out and struck them from the pages. But at present she was wallowing in a cliche, because she truly, deeply felt as if she’d been waiting all her life for a guy like Joe Firretti to come around.

It sucked, it totally sucked that he was moving to Seattle. Fate—if such a thing existed—was playing the cruelest joke imaginable on her.

They watched Jimmy Kimmel, then took a shower together and made love again. Only slower. They took their time, learning each other, trying different things. And then they lay in the dark, Kate’s head on his shoulder, their fingers laced together.

“Hey,” Kate said. “Want to come to a wedding with me?”

Joe stroked her hair. “Do you promise to wear the mysterious pink-raft dress?”

She smiled in the dark. “If I haven’t destroyed it.”

“Then yes,” Joe said, and kissed the top of her head. “I would like to go to a wedding with you.”

“Assuming we make it,” Kate said.

“Oh, we’ll make it, baby,” Joe said. “We haven’t even touched the boat industry yet.”

Kate laughed. “We really did have quite an adventure, didn’t we?”

“That’s an understatement.”

“So… do you believe in fate yet?” she teased him.

She could hear Joe’s soft chuckle. “You have to admit, it’s wild that we met like we did and ended up here, just to say good-bye in a day or so.”

“‘Wild’ is not the word that comes to my mind.”

Hers either, really. She could see his blue eyes in the light from the window, shining into hers. “We make a good team, Joe Firretti.”

“We make an excellent team,” he agreed. “Minus the navigation.”

“And the armrest issue,” she reminded him.

He grinned.

“If you were still in New York, do you think we’d… I mean, would it be presumptuous to think that maybe —”

“Baby,” he said, “we’d definitely be checking out some sushi bars and the Giants games, are you kidding?”

She smiled, kissed his chest. That made her a little sad, really. “When you come to visit, we can do that, right?”

“Right. And when you’re in Seattle,” he added.

Right. She didn’t let the thought that she only made it to Seattle twice this year—this being the second time—linger. Maybe she’d come back more often. Maybe she’d make editor and get a raise and come back at least once a month. She refused to allow the reality of her situation to ruin the moment.

Maybe Joe was hearing the tinny voice of reality, too, because neither of them spoke after that.

Kate couldn’t say when she drifted off to sleep, but she was awakened by an alarm that brought her off the bed. She pushed her hair from her eyes and looked around. Joe was standing at the foot of the bed, grinning at her. He had on a pair of jeans, a white collared shirt, and a blue blazer. “Rise and shine, kid. We don’t want to miss that plane. Weather says a big storm is headed for Pacific coast.”

As much as Kate wanted to extend her stay with Joe, the thought of being stuck in Phoenix did not appeal. She dug a pair of yoga pants from her bag, as well as a tank top and hoodie.

Against all odds, when Joe and Kate arrived at the airport, the pink raft in tow, their flight to Seattle showed an on-time departure. At the gate, Kate stood at the window, staring at the plane that had somehow managed to fly in from Los Angeles, and called Lisa, waking her to tell her she’d make it to the wedding.

“Oh thank God!” Lisa said with relief. “Mom!” she shouted. “MOM! Kate’s going to make it!”