Rainfall (2 page)

I head into the store, better able to concentrate now that I am not distracted by the rain or the gorgeous man with the black umbrella. I have come for garlic rolls and French dressing.
And a Snickers, which, of course, I will eat long before I arrive. My mother will never know. She would keep it for herself while publicly berating me for not eating properly, the sneaky cow. Most Saturday afternoons I spend at mom’s with her and Frank and Frank’s two daughters, Samantha and Lola, both of whom are married with children, one boy and one girl each, as if they had ordered them from a Sears Catalogue or something.

I grab the few items that mom asked me to bring and smile at the lady behind the till.

“How are you, Miranda?” I ask the elderly woman I have known for most of my life. “Fine thank you, Paige,” she replies. “It’s my grandson’s birthday tomorrow; we’re having a little party for him. Five years is a milestone or so my daughter-in-law tells me.” She frowns disapprovingly before continuing, “Although apparently 60 is just an ordinary day. Where were they last month on my birthday, hey? Skiing in Switzerland, that’s where! And all I got was a lousy phone call – woke me up because of the time difference! Frankly I’m surprised they even bothered.” 

She seems to have forgotten that I’m standing here and I'm starting to feel a little bit awkward when she suddenly pulls herself together and gives me a very put-on 'cashier' smile. “Anyway, I’m so looking forward to it; I got him a lovely little red wagon - wooden. Children today get far too much plastic and electronic equipment.” There is an awkward pause as I try to decide on the correct response.

“Well, congratulations!” I cry, with far too much enthusiasm. “I hope the weather is nice.” 

I quickly pay for my purchases and head for the door, ripping open the Snickers and taking an enormous and enormously satisfying bite. I head back outside and take a moment to assess the rain. It seems to have gotten worse. It doesn’t bother me running back to the car, but I’ll be damned if I let a good Snickers bar go to waste. I’ll just have to hang around here until I’m done. I cram another huge mouthful in, although I haven’t yet swallowed the first. 

“Excuse me,” a soft voice murmurs in my ear. I jump about a foot in the air and choke on the chocolate. Spinning round, I reel in shock and embarrassment as I recognise old blue eyes, still hanging on to his boring umbrella. I cover my mouth with my hand, trying desperately to swallow what is already crammed in there, but it’s not going down without a fight. I have to half close my eyes in concentration and the handsome stranger is gaping at me in alarm, glancing around quickly as if to check if there is anyone around who might be able to help. 

After what feels like an eternity, I swallow down about half the Snickers bar in one gulp, my eyes watering from the pain and effort. Trying to act as though there is nothing wrong, I gaze up at him innocently.

“Yes?” I ask politely, as though nothing has happened. Did I just imagine it or did he just cover up a snort of laughter behind a very obvious throat clearing. I peer up at him, my eyes narrowed.

“What is it?” I ask, far more aggressively, crossing my arms over my chest and then realising that the packet I am carrying is far too heavy for this position to be comfortable. I uncross my arms.

“Um...” He looks slightly desperate for a moment and runs his hands through his dark curly hair. Very handsome, I decide. His eyes are so blue they should have their own pantone. His lips are full and beautifully shaped and he is tall and broad-shouldered. I bet he works out, I think; feeling slightly guilty that the last time I went to the gym I was in the kids’ play area waiting for my mom’s aqua-aerobics class to finish. It was her first and only attempt. I clearly remember her huffing and puffing for a full 20 minutes afterwards, which seriously affected her usual ability to wolf down a chicken and mayo toasted sandwich in under 2 minutes.  

Dressed in smart black pants and expensive black leather shoes, this gorgeous specimen of hot-blooded male is mercifully saved from looking too austere by the absence of a tie and an almost casually unbuttoned open neck grey shirt. I once overheard Aunt Jackie telling my mother that she had met a man who made her want to have sex on a snooker table. I can, for the first time in my life, completely empathise. I shake my head. Putting the blatant physical reaction my traitorous body is feeling aside, I really do need to get going. I am already 15 minutes late. I am about to turn and leave when he finally manages to blurt out:

“Sorry, I’m Adam! Adam Parker,” he continues awkwardly, “I just wondered - I thought you might need...” He gestures helplessly at his umbrella. I stare at it in confusion.

“You waited for me just so that you could offer me your umbrella?” I ask suspiciously. 

“Well,” he begins, gazing skyward before meeting my eyes, “when you put it like that it sounds kind of stalkerish; but yes, essentially, that’s what I did.”

“I like the rain,” I say, not entirely sure why.

“Yes,” he smiles sincerely for the first time, “I saw that.” 

His gaze roams up and down my body taking in my wet clothes and I suck in an astonished breath. There has been no-one since Kevin died. Two years of celibacy. I have not been remotely interested in dating or men or anything remotely close. But this man! This man is making me think wicked thoughts. I purse my lips contemplatively. 

“Would you like to come to a barbeque with me?” I ask, after only a moment’s deliberation, and he grins.

I do, after all like to live for today. He might not be here tomorrow.

Chapter 2

“Paige, honey, is that you?” my mom calls from the patio as the front door slams behind us.

“It’s me, mom!” I yell back, depositing my purchases on the counter just as she enters the kitchen. I freeze, quickly stowing the empty Snickers package I have just pulled from the bag behind my back. Sammy and Lola are right behind my mom, each with a round pink baby on their hips.

“Hi!” I say brightly. My mother’s eyes narrow in suspicion. 

“What have you got, there, Paige?” 

Jeez, she’s like a freaking bloodhound. I cast around frantically, but I am trapped like a deer in the headlights. There is no hiding my indulgence from her. I am about to come clean when a warm hand wraps around my wrist and then moves slowly down and takes the wrapper from my hand. I feel a shiver run down my whole arm. My hands fly from behind my back and I raise my eyebrows in feigned annoyance.

“What are you going on about?” I ask, and then, dusting my hands on the front of my damp dress, I gesture at Adam. “Mom, this is Adam. Adam is a friend of mine.” He raises his eyebrows at me and I grin. “Adam,” I continue bravely, “this is my mom, Georgia, and my step-sisters, Sammy and Lola.”

Sam and Lola are gaping like a pair of goldfish and my mother’s eyebrows have shot so far up her forehead that they have practically disappeared into her hairline. 

“Hi.” Adam grins at them in turn and then very deliberately turns to me and stage whispers. 

“So, let me get this straight. You have two step-sisters?” He chuckles. I have heard it a hundred times before, so I just roll my eyes.

“Yes, yes. Call me Cinderella.”

Not to be upstaged, my mother, suddenly the epitome of poise and grace, where I am pretty sure only a moment ago she was sneaking a ciggie in the backyard, glides forward, her hand extended.

“An absolute pleasure to meet you, Adam,” she purrs, “I’m so glad you could join us.”  Glancing over at the seven individually prepared prawn cocktails displayed on the dining room table, I am pretty sure that my mother is anything but pleased, but I do admire her adaptability.

I grab a wine glass and fill it with the cheap red wine from my own cooler. Looking at the label, Adam gives me a questioning gaze and I simply smile secretly. 

“Would you like a glass?” I ask challengingly, bringing the glass to my lips. Adams gaze follows my mouth and a flash of desire crosses his features. I deliberately lick my lips, refusing to look away first.

“Gracious, no!” my mother scolds, rushing to her wine rack. “Adam, you can’t possibly drink
Paigey’s cheap nasty stuff, I don’t know why she insists on drinking that plonk.” She casts an annoyed glance in my direction before continuing, “I’m sure we have a divine Cab-Sav in here that you would enjoy.” She starts pulling bottle after bottle out of the wine rack and I can’t help but wink at Sammy and Lola who are in hysterics behind her juddering bottom.

“Please don’t bother, Georgia,” Adam replies smoothly, his low husky voice causing my insides to contract. “I’m quite happy with Paige’s preference.” He deliberately brushes up against me as he leans across to retrieve a wine glass. Pouring himself a generous cupful, he lifts it in an impromptu toast, his eyes full of meaning.

“To new friendships,” he smiles, and I clink glasses with him, a flush spreading across my face that has nothing to do with the wine.

“Paige, why in God’s name are your clothes
wet?” my mother squawks from across the room and I roll my eyes.

We head outside and I introduce Adam to Don and Dave, Sammy and Lola’s respective husbands; and of course to Frank, my step-father for the past 20 years. Frank kisses my cheek and looks Adam up and down, assessing him. 

“So, Adam,” he drops his voice menacingly and I smile behind my wineglass. “What exactly is it that you do?”

“I’m in the construction business back in Manhattan,” Adam replies, smiling. “I actually came down here for a job interview. Incidentally, they’ve offered me the position. They want me to start on the first of April. I’ll probably be moving to Long Beach in the next couple of weeks.”

I release the breath that I have been holding since he mentioned that he lives in Manhattan, on the other side of the country.

“So, how did you meet our Paige here?” Frank continues, not to be deterred. Frank is as protective of me as he is of his own girls, possibly even more so. I think he tries to make up for my mother and I love him for it. Adam grins down at me, amusement twinkling in his sapphire blue eyes.

“We bumped into each other at the store, actually. It was raining. We shared my very sensible umbrella,” he begins and then grins wickedly, “we spent the afternoon together, had something to eat, had a few drinks and then we went home, together,” he raises his brows, ignoring Frank’s gasp of outrage, and I look away, not sure of how I feel about his presumption. “We just talked all night, getting to know each other,” he continues easily and I grin, relieved to be let off the hook. Ignoring Don and Dan’s guffaws of “Talked, yeah right... if that’s what you want to call it,” Adam continues, “I was enchanted, captivated. I couldn’t have turned back if I tried.” 

He raises his glass to me again and I redden under the heat of his gaze.

“Aah,” Sammy and Lola are both gazing at Adam in adoration, their hands clasped over their hearts.

“You’re umbrella was boring,” I retort, and then I turn back to Frank who seems to have recovered his composure and is asking Adam about his work.

“How’s your dad, Paigey?” Frank asks after a while and I glance quickly across to check if Adam is paying any attention. He appears to be deep in conversation with Dave about football so I turn back to Frank, smiling sadly.

“He’s okay; still happier than the rest of them. He has moments of clarity; those make him sad. Sometimes he asks where mom is. Sometimes he thinks he’s back in class and asks me why I bother attending if I'm not going to take any notes. He gets very frustrated.”

“He’s lucky to have you,” Frank ruffles my hair fondly.

“Not as lucky as mom is to have you,” I mock, then, lowering my voice conspiratorially, “have you found yourself a lover yet? You know none of us would blame you. In fact, I can set you up an awesome profile on a dating website... help you along?” I nudge him and he laughs.

“Alas, my heart belongs to your mother,” he places his hand over his heart dramatically.

“God only knows why,” I answer, taking a huge gulp of wine.

“Paige!” he mock-scolds. “She’s a dear old thing, really.”

“I know,” I smile, glancing across at my mother who is sneaking another ciggie around the corner oblivious to the fact that we can all see her shadow lifting the cigarette to her lips every time she takes a puff. Bless her.

“You and your dad still playing chess?” Frank interrupts and I turn back to him.    

“We’ve been playing a lot of Scrabble lately,” I reply.
“And Cluedo. He’s obsessed with Cluedo.” I smile, thinking of my dad. Most of the time when we play he is completely unaware of who I am; he is just grateful to have a willing partner, while I treasure every moment we spend together. I do sometimes wish I could have him back as he was, particularly on days like today. I would like to be able to tell him about Adam and our crazy meeting. He would have liked Adam, I think, even with his boring umbrella. Thinking of Adam, I glance over at the men gathered around the barbeque and I freeze, my heart in my throat. Adam is staring intently at me, deep in thought, and I wonder just how much he has overheard.

The evening gradually turns cool and I start to shiver in my still damp summer dress. I stifle a yawn.

“I think we’re going to go soon, Mom.” The girls had left a few hours earlier; their screaming, tired babies putting paid to their afternoon.

“Thank God for that,” Frank announced the moment they were gone, downing his whiskey in one gulp. “I love my grandchildren but they make a hell of a lot of noise for such tiny people.” 

We make small talk as the last of the sun’s warmth disappears over the horizon and then Frank goes in search of a refill, winking at me as he saunters past. 

“I’ll just see what Georgia is up to,” he mutters, unconvincingly, knowing full well that my mother will be washing dishes for a while and thereby giving us some 'alone' time. 

Suddenly shy, I take another huge swig of my wine, not knowing quite what to say and I turn my back to him, holding my hands out toward the last dying embers of the fire. I sense Adam behind me before he touches me, and I feel like a wind-up doll there is so much tension in my body. When his hands run up and down my arms I cannot help myself and I lean back against him, at the same moment that his arms come around my body, encircling me. I sigh contentedly and bask in the heat radiating off his body. I feel his breath in my hair and I turn to face him.

“So, you’re moving here?” I ask casually, far more anxious about his answer than I am prepared to let on.
“To California? To Long Beach?” I clarify.

“I think so,” he nods. His blue eyes look almost black in the dim light and, as I gaze up into them, they appear endless. “There are certain prospects I may be interested in,” he smiles down at me, holding me firmly in his arms. His chest is hard and lean and there is a shadow in the hollow of his neck. Unable to resist, I lean forward and place a kiss on it. I feel his body stiffen and he draws in a deep unsteady breath.

“Ready to go?” I ask, my voice sounding far huskier than I intend.

“Yes,” he growls and a thrill runs through me.

We somehow make it into my apartment before we lose control, although the drive home in my little Chevy was decidedly tense. Adam had left his car back at the store with the intention that we would fetch it on our way back from Mom and Frank’s, but we cannot endure even the extra five minute detour. As it is, the door is barely shut behind us when Adam grabs me and his mouth comes crashing down onto mine.  His tongue is warm and sexy and is exploring my mouth more intimately than anyone ever before, even Kevin, who, in my opinion was a good but not very adventurous kisser. Adam’s hands are running up and down my back and I grab handfuls of his black curls, pulling him down towards me.  He lifts me up as though I weigh nothing and I wrap my legs around his waist. We slam into the wall and I groan, the pleasure far exceeding the pain. I can feel him pressing hard against me and I press back in wild abandon. 

Adam groans in raw, primal need and drops to his knees, his mouth on my mouth, my neck, my throat. I force myself to focus and, one by one, I undo the buttons on his grey shirt. Each one is like a prize in its own right; his chest and torso emerging is enough to test even the strongest self-control. Every inch of this glorious man is chiselled and hard, lean, beauty. I am still straddling him as he lifts my dress up and his hands are on my bare back, tracing random patterns on my skin, my body arching in response. My nipples are so sensitive and so hard they are pressing through the soft fabric of my dress and he groans gazing down at them. He lower
s
his head and traces lazy circles with his tongue over the sheer material and I moan, closing my eyes and dropping my head in euphoria. 

Adam stands suddenly, lifting me with him and carries me into the bedroom. He drops me on the covers of my double bed which suddenly seems far too small, a slow, sexy smile crossing his face. I gaze up at him, my eyes heavy with desire. He eases himself down on top of me and soon I am writhing beneath his expert touch. It feels like his hands are absolutely everywhere and I find myself moaning his name over and over. 

Much later, I run my fingers across his torso, tracing his muscled stomach and the lines of his six-pack. My head is resting on his chest and one leg is draped across his body.  I feel sated, exhausted and completely at ease. Adam is playing idly with my hair, wrapping a long dark tress around his finger and twirling it around and around before letting it go.

I smile up at him and he drops a kiss on my forehead.

“You are something else,” I confess, pulling the covers up to my chin and peeking out cheekily.

“Thank you,” he acknowledges with a nod. “You’re not too bad yourself,” he grins.

“You know, I’m not usually such a slut. I kind of have this first-night, first-base rule.” I yawn, listening to his deep, infectious laughter and smiling. I close my eyes and lay my head on his shoulder, desperately hoping that he is the kind of guy who spends the night. Then, remembering that his car is back at the store, I smother a giggle.

The next morning I wake to the smell of coffee, which explains the empty bed, at least, and I heave a sigh of relief. I would have felt far
more slutty if he had snuck out and caught a cab in the middle of the night. I stretch lazily, my body feeling sore, but sated. A moment later the door opens and Adam comes in with a tray bearing coffee, toast and cereal.

“Breakfast in bed?”
I raise my eyebrows disbelievingly. “Wow. You really are every girl’s dream come true.”

I watch him buttering the toast and note fondly that he is left-handed; a sign of creativity. A moment later he stirs his coffee with his right. I cock my head to the side, blinking in confusion. 

“Are you left or right-handed?”

“I’m actually ambidextrous,” he replies, grinning. “It’s one of the reasons why I’m so good in bed,” he winks and I laugh.