Unfinished Business

typical of him to have thought of it. “As a surprise?”
    “I think we can pull it off. Dad’s been trying to juggle his schedule to get a week free. I can sabotage that so he’ll think he can only manage a couple of days. Getting the tickets, making some reservations, that’s the easy part. Then we have to pack their bags without getting caught.”

    Warming to the idea, she smiled. “If your father has the same stars in his eyes my mother does, I think we can manage that. We could give them the tickets at the picnic, then bundle them into a limo. Is there a limo service around here?”
    “There’s one in Frederick. I hadn’t thought of that.” He pulled out a pad to make a note.
    “Get them the bridal suite,” Vanessa said. When he looked up and grinned, she shrugged. “If we’re going to do it, let’s do it right.”
    “I like it. One limo, one bridal suite, two first-class tickets. Anything else?”
    “Champagne. A bottle in the limo, and another in the room when they arrive. And flowers. Mom likes gardenias.” She stopped abruptly as Brady continued to write. She’d called Loretta “Mom.” It had come out naturally. It sounded natural. “She—she used to like gardenias.”
    “Terrific.” He slipped the pad back in his jacket pocket. “You didn’t leave me any.”
    Baffled, she followed his gaze to her own empty plate. “I…I guess I was hungrier than I thought.”
    “That’s a good sign. Any burning?”
    “No.” Off balance, she rose to take her plate to the sink.
    “Any pain?”
    “No. I told you before, you’re not my doctor.”
    “Um-hmm.” He was standing behind her when she turned. “We’ll just figure I’m taking Doc Tucker’s appointments today. Let’s have a little vertical examination.” Before she could move aside, he pressed gentle fingers to her abdomen. “Hurt?”
    “No, I told you I—”
    He pressed firmly under her breastbone. She winced. “Still tender?”

    “A little.”
    He nodded. When he’d touched that spot two days before, she’d nearly gone through the roof. “You’re coming along nicely. Another few days and you can even indulge in a burrito.”
    “Why is it that everyone who comes in here is obsessed with what I eat?”
    “Because you haven’t been eating enough. Understandable, with an ulcer.”
    “I don’t have an ulcer.” But she was aching from his touch—for an entirely different reason. “And would you move?”
    “Right after you pay your bill.” Before she could object or respond, he pressed his lips to hers, firmly, possessively. Murmuring her name, he took her deeper, until she was clinging to him for balance. The floor seemed to drop away from her feet so that he, and only he, was touching her. His thighs against hers, his fingers knotted in her hair, his mouth, hungry and impatient, roaming her face.
    She smelled of the morning, of the rain. He wondered what it would be like to love her in the gloomy light, her sigh whispering against his cheek. And he wondered how much longer he would have to wait.
    He lifted his head, keeping his hands in her hair so that her face was tilted toward his. In the misty green of her eyes, he saw himself. Lost in her. Gently now, and with an infinite care that stilled her wildly beating heart, he touched his lips to hers again.
    Her arms tightened around him, strengthening, even as every bone in her body seemed to melt. She tilted her head so that their lips met in perfect alignment, with equal demand.
    “Vanessa—”
    “Don’t say anything, not yet.” She pressed her mouth to his throat and just held on. She knew she would have to think, but for now, for just a moment, she wanted only to feel.

    His pulse throbbed, strong and fast, against her lips. His body was firm and solid. Gradually his hands relaxed their desperate grip and stroked through her hair. She became aware of the hiss and patter of rain, of the cool tiles under her bare feet, of the morning scents of coffee and cinnamon.
    But the driving need would not abate, nor would the confusion and fear that blossomed inside her.
    “I don’t know what to do,” she said at length. “I haven’t been able to think straight since I saw you again.”
    Her murmured statement set off dozens of new fires. His hands moved up to her shoulders and gripped harder than he had meant them to. “I want you, Van. You want me. We’re not teenagers anymore.”
    She stepped back as far as his hands would allow. “It’s not easy for