Champagne Kisses: A Timeless Love Story (16 page)

"Jack's given me the night off, but I thought I would just hang around here. I have work to catch up on," I said. Daniel frowned.

"Young lady, I will not have you hanging around here waiting for me to die. I promise I won't go tonight. Go out. Go dancing. I want to know you are having a fun evening, not moping around here. I'm tired of everyone putting their lives on hold waiting for me. So get out of here, and go have some fun." It would have been a marvelous speech, except his voice gave out and he began coughing at the end. I held onto his hand, watching his thin body shake.

Bianca stood, walking quickly to the oxygen tank and upping the flow. It hissed like an angry snake, but Daniel managed to take deeper breaths, his body settling back to normal. I looked away from him, noticing the pictures on the nightstand next to the oxygen tank. There was the picture of Jack and Daniel playing football in the handcrafted frame from that Father's Day long ago. The colors were worn and faded, the frame obviously having been displayed for many years. Next to it was a picture of a smiling Robbie and Daniel on a small sailing vessel. A picture of the two boys sitting on my lap reading a Dr. Seuss book occupied another frame. The last one was an old black and white picture of Bianca blowing him a kiss. A lump grew in my throat. I didn't know how Bianca managed to do this without bursting into tears at every moment. She was a strong woman.

Bianca smiled at her husband as the coughing stopped, running her fingers along his cheek. He looked up at her with adoration in his eyes, catching her hand and kissing it gently. She bent and kissed him back on his forehead before going back and sitting in her chair, watching him with loving eyes.

"If it will make you feel better, I'll go out." I would do anything to make him happy. "There's a restaurant I've been wanting to try," I lied. There was no restaurant. I wasn't even hungry, but I knew he wanted to see me go out and enjoy myself.

"Good. And don't think you can just hide downstairs. I'll send Dean after you and have him drag you to that restaurant kicking and screaming." He gave me one of his no-nonsense looks and I couldn't help but smile.

"That will be hard because it's Dean's night off too," I said. I stuck my tongue out at him.

"Oh, it is?" Daniel gave me a questioning look, but before I could read into it he shrugged and added, "Then I'll just have to send Bianca and Emma. They may not be able to lift you as easily, but between the two of them, I think they could at least get you tied up and in the car."

Bianca gave a girlish giggle. "Please, we'd even get her tied to the chair at the restaurant." I smiled at the image of the older woman wrapping me with rope like an old vaudeville villain while Emma carried me into the car, the two of them cackling and twirling at their mustaches.

"Go out. Have a good time tonight. Please, it will make me feel better knowing that one of us is having a fun evening." He looked up at me, his eyes still bright despite the paleness of his face. I couldn't say no to him.

"All right. I'll go. I'm bringing you back some dessert, though." I gave him a firm look, and he laughed.

I stood up and headed toward the door. As I stepped outside, Bianca called out after me, "Make sure it's something chocolate!" I could hear Daniel laughing as I closed the door.

P
resent Day

I had intended to go to a rustic Italian restaurant just a few miles from the Saunders' mansion. I had intended to walk in, sit down, eat lasagna and tiramisu, have a glass of wine, and then head back and take a long hot shower. That was what I had intended. Instead, I was standing in front of Dean's apartment building.

I could see a light coming from his corner unit, the yellow window shining cheerfully into the dark night. The wind blew across the yard, rattling the remaining leaves on the trees and making the fallen ones skitter across the sidewalk. The moon hung low, orange and full against the night sky. I was about to go back to my car, to drive to that little restaurant and actually do what I was supposed to do, but the memory of that kiss pulled at me. Now that we had kissed, even just once, I wanted more.

Before I even knew what I was doing, my hand was knocking at his door. I looked down at the brave appendage in shock, wondering what the hell I was thinking. I needed to go home. I needed to leave this where it was. The wind blew my hair out of its bun, but I couldn't find the rubber-band, so I just smoothed it down. No good was going to come of this, only heartache.
I should turn around and run back to my car and just leave him thinking it was some doorbell ditch
, I thought.

The door opened, allowing the warm light to spill out into the dark. He stood there, wearing only pajama pants. My mouth went wet, then immediately dry at the sight of his bare chest, the muscles taut and hard. The eagle tattoo looked exactly the same, but now there was a scar from the bullet wound above the eagle's head. His nipples hardened as the night air hit them, and I had to force my eyes away from their perfection.

"Rachel? What are you doing here?" he asked softly. His brows came together and he stepped out to put his hands on my shoulders. "Is everything all right?"

A red-hot blush seared up my neck. He was worried something had happened to Daniel. I was here because I couldn't stop thinking about his kiss, not because anything was wrong. I suddenly didn't know what to say.

"Here, come inside. It's cold out there." He ushered me into his home, carefully shutting out the night behind me. "Let me throw on a shirt. I'll be right back. Make yourself comfortable."

He disappeared into a small room off to the left that I assumed was his bedroom. The apartment was comfortably furnished. A brown leather sofa and recliner faced a huge TV, a gas fireplace's flame dancing merrily underneath it. A small, heavy wooden table with two chairs sat in the kitchen, but it was covered in mail and random odds and ends. Canvas paintings hung on every wall. The one on the mantle I even suspected might be a Renoir. The man loved his art.

"Is everything okay?" Dean now wore a light gray T-shirt with the DS Oil and Gas logo emblazoned on the the front. It was easier to think without his muscles tempting me to touch them. The kitchen smelled delicious, and I could see something boiling on the stove. I felt guilty for disrupting his night off. "Please, take off your jacket and stay awhile. You hungry? I made my favorite beef stew and I always make too much."

I carefully took off my shoes, placing them neatly by the door and setting my jacket on top of them. "I don't mean to intrude. I'm not really even sure why I'm even here. I meant to go to this Italian restaurant, but I missed the exit, and I don't even remember turning off the highway. Suddenly, I was in your parking lot." A fresh blush crept up the back of my neck and into my scalp. Somehow, I was as nervous as a girl on a first date.

Dean laughed, a hearty and wonderful sound. "I'm actually glad you came by. It means I can stop picking up the phone every five minutes to try and get the courage to call you. Soup?"

"Yes, please. It smells wonderful," I said, stepping into his bright kitchen. Everything was organized and meticulous, except for the couple of spots where the soup had splattered onto the stove. He lifted the lid and ladled out a delicious looking stew into a large green bowl, handing the full bowl into my waiting hands.

"Here you go. Careful, it's hot. It's a recipe I learned from one of the Army cooks and then made into my own. It isn't fancy, but it sure tastes good." He gave me one of his perfect lopsided grins as he handed me a spoon. His smile made the butterflies begin to dance in my stomach again. "We can sit on the couch."

While he poured himself a bowl, I headed over to the brown leather sofa. It was worn and soft, giving the entire room a comfortable feeling. I balanced the bowl on my lap and raised a spoonful to my mouth. Flavor rushed across my tongue, the beef and vegetables combining with just enough spice to make my mouth water for more.

"This is delicious!" I took another bite, savoring the meaty broth and the bits of potatoes and carrots. "I didn't know you could cook."

Dean sat down on the couch next to me, close enough to make my heart speed up, but far enough away to be considered proper. "I can't really cook. This is probably the only thing I know how to make, but I just
really
know how to make it."

I took another bite of the hearty stew, enjoying just sitting next to Dean. I felt like I was floating on air, my nerves frazzled and excited.
It's just Dean
, I told myself, but that was the problem. I had tried to ignore it, but today's kiss had hammered it home. I still loved him. He made me feel safe and warm, yet adventurous and exciting all at the same time. I peeked a glance over at him as he blew on his soup, his mouth making a perfect, kissable circle. I wondered if I made him feel the same way.

Before I knew it, I was scraping the bottom of the bowl. I looked down at it, surprised. I hadn't even realized I was hungry. It was the first time I had finished a meal all week. Dean looked over and grinned at my empty bowl.

"Looks like you liked it." Pride at his cooking rippled through his voice. I smiled. It had been fantastic. "Do you want some more? I have plenty."

"Maybe in a little bit. I can't believe I ate all of it. It was wonderful." I handed him my bowl and he grinned at my praise. He sauntered into the kitchen and I had to focus to keep from watching his perfect ass. The pajama pants did nothing to hide that it was as muscular as the rest of his body.

"Can I get you a drink?" he called from the kitchen.

"Um, sure. What do you have?" I asked, stretching my arms out above my head. The soft leather creaked as I stood up and followed him to the kitchen.

He was standing in his pantry, frowning at a bottle in his hands. He turned and held it up for me to see. "It looks like all I have is this champagne," he apologized. "I haven't been home for a while, and this is all I have." I noticed the repetition. He sounded a little nervous.

I took the bottle and looked at the label. It was definitely something left over from a wedding or even a New Year's Eve party, but it still sounded good. I handed it back and smiled. "Works for me."

With deliberate fingers, he unwrapped the foil and twisted the thin metal holding the cork. I jumped when the cork flew out into his waiting kitchen towel. He laughed gently and grinned at my surprise.

"Glasses are in that cabinet there," he said, gesturing with his head to one of the wooden doors. I opened it to find a neat row of glassware, and pulled out two slender glasses and set them on the counter next to him. He poured the bubbling golden liquid, and we each picked one up.

"What should we toast to?" Dean asked. He raised his glass, stopping just short of tapping mine.

"To old friends," I answered. He smiled at the similarity to our first toast with champagne.

"To old friends," he said softly, and we clinked our glasses and took a sip. I closed my eyes and was transported back in time, back to the night I met Dean. The champagne even tasted the same.

Dean was so close to me that I could feel his body heat radiating toward me. His head bent slightly so he leaned over me, the two of us almost pressed together in the small kitchen. My heart pounded in my chest, a light-headed happiness filling me up like a cup. Every fiber of my being prayed he would just lean forward a little bit more, just enough for our lips to touch. I rose onto my toes, straining to bridge the distance between us, to kiss him again.

He stepped back, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Rachel, we can't..." He looked at me, his eyes full of desire but pleading with me, as if they just wanted me to understand.

I set the glass down, smoothing my hair into it's normal tight bun, finding a spare hair-tie in my pocket. He was being the responsible one. He was the one making sure we didn't do something we were going to regret later. I hung my head, a blush searing through my cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I shouldn't have come." I turned and headed toward the door, biting my lip to keep the emotions bottled up. I could let them out once I was in the car, but I didn't want him to see me break. "Thank you for the lovely dinner."

I was two steps away from the door when his hand caught my wrist. He pulled gently, spinning me into his chest and wrapping his arms around me. His lips pressed into mine, full of need and want. I opened my mouth, his tongue slipping in and finding mine. He tasted better than anything I could have imagined.

Dean's body pressed into mine, his muscles hard and flexed as he held me to him, his gentle hands holding the back of my neck and pulling me into him. I moaned softly, the years of wanting him surging to the surface.

"Please don't go," he whispered as we both stopped to breathe. Our foreheads were pressed together, and we both took big, unsteady breaths. I couldn't have left if I wanted to. "Never leave again."

I kissed him again, wrapping my arm around his neck as he wrapped his arms around my waist. It was a hungry, desperate kiss, full of years of lost desire. I wanted him more than I had ever wanted anything in my life. And he was right there, kissing me back, asking me to stay. I felt a tear trickle down my cheek, but it was one of pure joy.

My hand went to the bottom of his shirt and pulled upward. I had wanted to touch those muscles from the moment he had opened the door. He casually raised it over his head and flung it to the floor. His blue eyes twinkled in the light of the kitchen as I ran my fingers across his flesh. He let his head fall back with a low moan. I leaned forward and kissed his hardening nipples, tasting them like candy. His skin was delicious.

Without warning, Dean scooped me up. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him, drinking him in as he carried me to the bedroom. His muscles were hard and strong underneath me, and he never struggled with my weight, moving across the room as though I were light as a feather.

He set me down carefully on the tall bed, never letting the kiss between us stop. My fingers ran up and down his arms and back, desperate to touch every inch of his skin. He broke free of my kiss, pulling back and looking me over as I lay on his bed. He smiled appreciatively.