Jack slung his jacket over his shoulder and strolled beside her, barely resisting the urge to wrap his arm around her and pull her close. She did things to him, made his palms sweat, made it hard to breathe sometimes when he was near her, and right now, she looked like a willowy fairy with her deep-red hair and the glitter of gold flecks on her dress. Suddenly she stopped, shaking a stone out of her high-heeled sandal, and he lent his arm, chuckling to himself when she continued their walk barefoot. She didn’t let go, her arm looped through his until she paused at the rail. Melanie inhaled the salty air. The slosh of water against the wall below beat rhythmically.
“I had a good time.”
“It isn’t over yet.”
She glanced his way. “It’s late, and Diana is—”
“She’s fine. So is Juliana.” When she looked to argue, he sighed. “And here I’d thought we were being adults and you’d relaxed.”
Her brows knitted softly. “We are. I have. It’s been wonderful. But—”
“Hush up, Mel.”
“What?”
There was that look again, he thought. “You’re going to talk yourself out of a good time if you say anything else.” Jack stepped up to her, and without laying a hand on her, he kissed her.
Melanie didn’t bother to deny herself the pleasure. Staring at this man across the dinner table, heck, all week long only fueled her need.
He kissed thickly, a slow torture of his incredible mouth, his hands clenched at his sides, and when she dropped her shoes and pressed herself against him, only then did he wrap her in his arms and hold on. Their kiss grew vibrant and steamy, yet held a tenderness they’d shared only once, moments before he left for his mission fifteen months ago. It was a small taste of the man he’d been back then, of the woman she’d been, and that the moment could be recaptured hadn’t escaped either of them.
Jack eased back, drawing in needed air and pressing his forehead to hers. “Don’t say anything.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Except…” Her eyes teared a bit as she tipped her head back and swept her fingers up over his jaw, across his brow. “I missed you, Jack. I really did.”
He groaned and held her, rubbing her spine, then whispering, “I hate that you had to be alone, Mel.”
“I didn’t miss you because of Juliana. I missed the man I hadn’t had the chance to know,” she said, loving his arms around her, feeling safe and cherished.
Jack’s throat tightened and he kissed her again, gently, with a tenderness that spoke of hidden emotion and not need.
It didn’t scare her. The old feeling of distrust didn’t rear its head and warn her off. Melanie just let herself feel, without thoughts of marriage and their baby and what the future might bring. Emotions flowed within the fraction of time suspended just for them. She touched his face, his lips, pushed at his hair.
He kissed the corner of her mouth, her cheek, sank his fingers into the auburn mass of curls spilling down her back. She was so incredibly beautiful and strong, and Jack knew there was more between them now, at this moment, than there had been since they’d shared a bed fifteen months ago. He brushed his mouth back and forth over hers softly, and when some teenagers on skateboards came flying around the curve of the stone walk, he scooped her out of their path.
“Reckless kids,” he muttered, then asked, “Are you okay?”
“Yes, my hero, I am,” she said, smiling.
Jack’s gaze prowled her features and something inside him seemed to fill and fill, until the pressure in his chest ached. It left him stunned.
“Oh, dear, I think my shoe’s a casualty, though.”
Jack stared at her as she bent to pick up her maimed sandal. He took it, deemed it salvageable enough for the walk to the car, then bending to his knee, he slipped both shoes on her feet.
Melanie held his gaze, feeling the air charge with a current she couldn’t name. Didn’t want to examine. “Come on, Sir Galahad,” she whispered. “Let’s go home.”
He stood, grasping her hand and tucking it in the curve of his elbow. “Galahad had pure thoughts, Melanie. I don’t.”
Laughing, they strolled toward home.
A few minutes later they stood on her porch, the door half-open.
“Do you want to come in for coffee?”
“No, if I come inside, I’ll want more than coffee.” His gaze raked her hotly. “And more than one kiss.”
“I see. Then I guess a nightcap is out of the question, huh?”
“Yes, it is,” he growled, backing her up against the doorjamb. “Because I can barely stand not having you, Melanie, but the next time I make love to you, I want my ring on your finger and vows between us.”