Almost Perfect

Chapter 11

A single step can start a journey.

– How to Have a Perfect Life

Nerves tickled the backs of Maddy's knees as she led the way up the outside stairs. "I can't vouch for how straight the place is. I was up late last night working and just sort of stumbled out of bed this morning."

"I promise not to write you up for slovenly behavior."

"I'm not that bad." Her laugh came out a bit breathy as she stopped at the door. She looked up when he joined her on the landing, trying to gauge his mood. His height blocked the sun, leaving his face in shadow. Why was he here? He didn't seem angry, but he didn't seem eager to be with her either.

"Are we going in?" he asked. One of his black brows lifted above the sunglasses that hid his eyes.

"Of course." She opened the door, peeked in, then rushed ahead of him to toss the bed comforter into place, scoop yesterday's clothes off the floor, and snatch the bright flower-print bra off the arm of the big chair in the corner. At least the kitchen area was clean, she thought as she hurried back to the closet by the front door and threw the clothes inside.

"There." She leaned her back against the door. "Not so bad."

"Not bad at all." He stepped farther into the apartment, filling the small space with his broad-shouldered presence. As he removed the sunglasses, she watched him take in her decor. Since days off were scarce, she'd purchased everything in one mad shopping spree, going with jewel-tone fabrics for the bed, chair cover, tablecloth, and place mats. On the walls, she'd hung a few of the oils she'd hoped to get into a gallery, cheerful garden scenes done in vibrant colors.

"These are good," he said, studying them.

"Those are some of my older pieces."

"So I assumed." He looked around again. "Where are the new pieces?"

"I'll get them." She retrieved a large black portfolio she'd left leaning against the wall, then looked around for a surface large enough to lay it on. Seeing no other choice, she maneuvered past Joe to put it on the bed.

He came up behind her to look over her shoulder. The nervous flutters turned to tingles of awareness at how close he stood. His scent filled her, a healthy, vital blend of soap and the outdoors.

He reached down to turn the drawings like pages in a giant book. "Maddy, these are great." He stopped at one of the bigger pieces, which depicted the view of the canyon from her balcony at sunrise. A fiery sky blazed over the cool greens and blues of the land. "Especially this one."

A glow of pride expanded inside her. "You really think so?"

"Absolutely." He leaned a little closer, his chest brushing her shoulder. With a sideways glance she realized he was peering at her signature. "Just 'Madeline'? No last name?"

She laughed. "During my die-hard feminist days I decided that last names were a stamp of male ownership. Your maiden name is your father's and your married name is your husband's. A woman's first name is the only thing that's really hers. And since my art is mine and no one else's, that's the only name that goes on it."

"Makes sense."

He continued nipping through images of the landscape, close-ups of wildflowers, studies of clouds in various light from bright white to blood-red. "I can see I'll need to find some more wall space after all."

"You don't have to."

"I want to." He said it with such conviction, she grew flustered.

Her gaze drifted to the play of muscles in his forearms, the strength in his large hands. Her thoughts took off on their own-as they did far too often-with fantasies of his hands on her body, being naked beneath him, feeling the weight of him cover her. No doubt about it, she was definitely sex-depraved. Deprived! She meant sex-deprived.

She pressed a hand to her forehead and realized she'd actually started to sweat.

"Is something wrong?"

"What?" She snatched her hand away when she found him looking at her instead of at the artwork.

"I asked when you planned to take these by the gallery to show Sylvia."

"Oh." Think, Maddy, think. Of something other than his body. "As soon as I can manage a trip into town."

"Tell me when you're ready, and I'll have Mom take over your after-nap activity period. That'll give you half a day off."

"Really? Thanks. That would be great." She told herself to step away but wound up just standing there, staring up into his dark-chocolate eyes, remembering the kiss in the truck and wondering how shocked he'd be if she asked him to kiss her again, just for the hell of it. She could assure him it didn't have to mean anything-since he'd clearly stated he didn't want to get tangled up with her again-she just desperately wanted to feel those lips on hers, feel his arms wrap tightly about her, feel the full length of his body with the full length of her own… all the way from shoulders to shins.

Jeez, Maddy, get a grip.

"So…" He broke the eye contact and looked around awkwardly. "I suppose I'm in the way here if you want to work." His voice went up at the end, as if asking a question rather than making a statement.

Was he trolling for an invitation to stay? "Actually…" she hesitated. What if she was reading him wrong? Although nothing ventured, nothing gained. She took a breath and plunged ahead. "I could use a little break. Between the camp and staying up every night drawing, I haven't had much down time to just relax. Would you… care to sit on the balcony a while? I could open a bottle of faux wine."

"Faux wine?" Amusement danced in his eyes.

"Well, it does say in our contract that we aren't allowed to drink any alcohol while camp is in session, but I can only take so much coffee, iced tea, and cola in one day, so I just thought- Never mind. I'm rambling." Embarrassed laughter bubbled out. "And I'm sure you're busy, so-"

"I'd love a glass of wine."

"Oh?" She straightened in surprise. "Well. Okay, then. Why don't you have a seat on the balcony and I'll get it."

"Do you need help?"

"No, no." What she needed was a moment to compose herself. "I'll get it. You go…" She waved her hands. "Sit."

"Yes, ma'am." His lips quirked with a smile as he complied.

Plucking at her shirt to cool herself off, she put the portfolio away, then went to the cabinet and wrestled the cork from a bottle. She filled two plastic cups, fanned her cheeks for good measure, and went to join him on the balcony. She found him standing at the wall, looking out over the camp. As if sensing her presence, he turned and smiled at her-one of his slow, melting smiles that turned her to mush.

Flustered, she stepped forward, extending one of the cups. "Here you go."

"Thanks." Their fingers touched as he took it from her, sending a little jolt through her. He looked down at his cup, then back at her. "Well, we've come a long way, from drinking hard liquor when we were underage to froufrou grape juice just so we can follow the rules."

"All part of growing up." She laughed. "But it does seem strange."

"I feel like we should drink to something."

She longed to say: To new beginnings. To starting over. To second chances. But the words stuck in her throat. Was he simply aiming for renewing their truce, or something more? Was she ready for more? Casual dating, yes. But nothing about this situation felt casual.

"I know," he finally said. "To your art career."

"Oh no, don't jinx it!"

"What?" He frowned.

"A toast like that without a lot of wood to knock on would be chancy enough. But to make it with fake wine in plastic cups? No."

"Very well." He held his cup out. "To nothing."

"No. To everything." She touched her cup to his.

"Even better." He took a sip, then looked at the wine, startled. "Mmm, this is actually good."

"Surprised me too." She drank, enjoying the subtle blend of smoky, fruity flavors that slid over her tongue.

"See, you should have let me toast your career."

"When I have one, I'll let you." They crossed to the grapevine chairs that sat on either side of a little table. She'd added emerald green cushions to make them more comfortable, and filled the pots with new plants and flowers.

"So," she said, "how'd you get to be so good with children?"

"I've been home on leave enough over the years to learn my way around these little monsters."

She smiled thinking of the opening-night bonfire. She'd sat across from Joe, watching in fascination as the little girls climbed on his back as if he were their personal jungle gym. "They clearly adore you."

"The feeling's mutual"-one side of his mouth turned upward-"most of the time."

"Most of the time?"

"When Mom first bought the camp, I went through culture shock every time I came here." He stretched out his long legs, making the chair creak beneath his weight. "Try going from living with an all-male special-ops team to being dropped into a camp full of females who are constantly chattering, bursting into tears, or screaming. Why do little girls do that, by the way?"

"Do what? Cry?"

"No, scream. Jeez." He stuck a finger in his ear and wiggled it. "I think I'm losing my high-range hearing-which may actually be a blessing."

She laughed. "I have no idea why they do that. I suppose for the same reason little boys hit each other. Too much energy for such tiny bodies to contain, so it has to go somewhere."

"At least hitting is quiet."

"That depends on who's being hit."

He studied her, then looked away. "I, um, take it you never had children?"

"No." Her smile faded.

"Did you want any?"

She hesitated, not sure how much of her life with Nigel she wanted to discuss with Joe. But there didn't seem to be a good reason not to discuss it. "We wanted children very much, and had been trying for more than a year when we went in for testing. That's when they discovered the cancer."

"Oh." The usual curiosity paraded across his face, all the things people wanted to ask hut rarely did for fear of being insensitive.

"It was testicular," she said, answering the,, unspoken question. "And very advanced. In the rush to get Nigel into treatment, we skimmed over the subject of infertility, never really addressing our options until it was too late."

Joe shifted in his chair. "Would you have, you know… gone that route?"

She hid a smile at how awkward some men were when the subject of freezing sperm came up. "I don't know. If Nigel's cancer had ever gone into remission long enough, maybe. While he was ill, I didn't have the emotional energy left to care for a child. It wouldn't have been fair to create a life when I.didn't have the time or energy to nurture it."

"No, it wouldn't," he answered simply, but the words carried a wealth of personal experience.

She sipped her wine as she searched for a way to lighten the mood. "So, what about you? I assume you never married. Do you still want children?"

"Actually, the answer is 'almost' to the first and 'definitely' to the second, which is what caused the 'almost.' "

"Okay, there's got to be a story behind that." She ignored the little spurt of jealousy at hearing he'd almost married.

"It was all Fish's fault."

"Fish?"

"Major Thomas Jenkins." He smiled. "My commanding officer. He had a baby."

"Wow." She blinked. "That must have been quite a feat. I know you guys can do some pretty special stuff, but childbirth? And it didn't even make the news?"

"Smart-ass," he teased. "His wife had a baby. A little girl. You should have seen Fish. I'm talking total mush. He carried pictures around everywhere-a few we all could have done without, believe me." He grimaced in a way that let her know they were delivery room pictures.

"Men are such wimps."

"Guilty," he admitted. "But man, he was nuts over that baby. I started remembering how much I'd always wanted one."

Maddy remembered too. As a teenager his sentences had frequently started with the phrase: "When I have a kid…" The rest of the sentence could be anything from making sure the child knew it was wanted to the child not getting away with some stunt one of their bonehead friends had just pulled. Her heart ached on behalf of an imaginary child who would have been showered with all the love Joe was dying to give.

"Anyway," he said, "I happened to be involved with a woman at the time, and I started thinking if I'm ever going to have a kid, I need to get married. I found myself looking at Janice and trying to picture her as a mother."

"I take it the picture didn't jell."

"Not even close." He snorted with laughter. "Janice was smart and ambitious and a lot of fun. But she liked to party as hard as she worked, and believe me, she was completely driven in her career."

"What did she do?"

"Fashion buyer for a department store and a total clotheshorse. You'd have liked her."

"Somehow I doubt it," Maddy muttered into her cup.

"Oh yeah, I forgot. You like those used-clothes places."

"Vintage boutiques," she corrected.

"Janice was pretty much straight-line New York chic."

That wasn't why Maddy wanted to rip the woman's hair out, but she let it pass. "So, what happened?"

"I was smart enough to realize she would have been a disaster as a mother and I was determined enough that my children have a good home not to make that mistake. Like you said-hell of a thing to do to kids, bring them into the world, then ignore them. It's too big a responsibility to take lightly."

"Agreed."

Quiet fell between them and stretched out long enough to become awkward.

Joe looked out over the valley. "I really like this view."

"Me too." Maddy turned as well, but all her senses remained tuned to the man beside her, sitting so close she sould easily reach out and touch him.

"When I realized I was moving here permanently, I nearly took this place for myself."

"Why didn't you?"

"It seemed more practical for me to move into the rooms behind the office."

"You sleep in the office?"

"You didn't know that?"

"I assumed you'd moved in with your mom."

Which proved how much she'd isolated herself from the rest of the camp.

"No, the owner's house is really small. While I love my mom to death, I like having a little privacy."

A little privacy to do what? All her thoughts from the first day returned, about Joe having a camp full of nubile counselors to pick from. She glanced sideways to find him watching her. "What?"

His lips quirked. "Do you know how easy it is to look at your face and tell what you're thinking?"

"I wasn't thinking anything." Heat rose in her cheeks.

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. "Well, the answer to the question you weren't thinking is no. I don't have wild orgies in the office with the camp counselors. They're kids, Maddy." He looked straight into her eyes. "I like my women a little more mature than that."

Her breath turned shallow. Was he saying he wanted to sleep with her? "Some of them are older than you and I were when we were dating."

His brows snapped together. "God, were we really that young? Ever?"

"We were. Which sort of proves my point that I was too immature to get married back then. I panicked and I made a mistake."

"I thought you said you wouldn't trade your years with Nigel for anything." A bitter edge crept into his voice. "But then, oh yeah, you loved him."

"Are you saying I didn't love you?"

He looked away without answering.

She sat, gripping her cup, trying to figure him out. One moment he was practically hitting on her, the next he was back to being angry over their breakup. How could she know how to act or what to say when he gave her such mixed signals?

"I need more wine." She stood and hurried inside. In the kitchen she braced both hands on the counter and dropped her head forward. Fear and confusion and a crazy hope that refused to die left her shaky.

A soft sound told her Joe had followed. Turning, she looked at him, and wanted him more than she ever had in the past. She wanted the wonderful caring, compassionate, yet still wounded man who stood before her. To love him and heal him and be healed in his arms.

"What are we doing here, Joe? What is going on between us? What do you want from me?"

Without a word, he walked to her, set his cup beside hers and took her head in both hands. For a moment, he simply stared down into her eyes, long enough for the barriers to drop away. Long enough for her to see the hunger he'd kept hidden. Then slowly he lowered his head.

A whimper escaped her when he covered her mouth with his. Her world tilted. She gripped the counter at her back and accepted all the pent-up desire he poured into her. Took from her.

He deepened the play of lips and tongue, taking her mouth as if starved for the taste of her, then tightened his fingers in her hair. Lifting his head, he stared at her again. "You want to know what I want, Maddy? I want you. I don't think I've ever stopped wanting you."

A part of her leapt with glee even as another part of her remembered how much her body had changed since the last time they'd made love. "I'm not the same girl I was back then."

"I don't want a girl. I want you." His mouth was on hers again, his lips molding hers, his tongue sweeping deep inside.

As if he'd hit some hidden switch, her reservations vanished and years of buried need ignited inside her. Her mouth went from accepting to ravenous in a flash. He pulled back, startled. She gripped the front of his camp shirt and rose up on her toes to keep the kiss from being broken.

With a groan, he pinned her against the counter, his hips tight against hers. His hands held her still as his mouth grew rougher. His tongue plundered, taking everything she offered and demanding more.

His erection rose against her soft belly, making her head spin with thoughts of having him inside her. Greedy now, she rubbed against him, wanting more, and wanting it right now. In answer, he swept a hand down the back of her leg and lifted it high against his hips. His hardness connected with her aching center and nearly sent her straight over the edge.

Panic jerked her back.

She slapped both her hands flat against his chest as she tore her mouth free. "Okayokayokay!" She struggled not to hyperventilate as spots danced before her eyes. "Ohmygod!" She saw his frown of confusion and laughed, although it sounded slightly insane. "I think I need to warn you… it's been a really long time since 1 did this. I mean a really, really long time."

His frown deepened. "Are you telling me to stop?"

"No! Good God, no." Another shaky laugh came out. "I'm just warning you I feel like a whole case of dynamite that's about to… go off."

A purely male smile tugged at his lips. "Good thing I'm rated expert in handling explosives."

His mouth descended again. Before she quite knew how, she was perched on the edge of the counter with both her legs wrapped tightly about his hips. His hands were inside the legs of her shorts and under her panties, cupping her bare bottom as he moved against her through layers of clothes. The sheer pleasure of it made her head fall back. Taking advantage, he moved to her neck, teasing her pulse to a faster pace.

Then his hips shifted, struck just the right angle, and pleasure shot through her in a blinding flash. Arching her back, she gasped in shock. Fireworks went off throughout her body, then she drifted slowly and ever so sweetly back to earth.

She opened her eyes to find him staring at her with a look of amused wonder.

"Did you just…?"

"Oh yeah." She laughed and blushed. "Sorry."

"Are you kidding? Do you have any idea how hot that was? I nearly came myself."

"Don't you dare," she ordered, then blushed even more. "I mean-"

"Not until I get inside you, I swear." He shuddered when she licked his neck. "I hope."

"I did try to warn you."

"I may forgive you." He pressed kisses along her hairline. "On one condition. Lose the shirt. I'd rip it off myself but my hands are kind of full." He squeezed her bottom to demonstrate.

She glanced toward the sliding glass door where sunlight poured in. "Do you think we could close the draperies first?"

"Why?" He pulled back. "No one can see in."

"I know. It's just really bright in here."

He wiggled his brows. "I know."

"Joe, I'm not kidding." She crossed her arms over her breasts. "I'm not the same girl you remember. I'm thirty-two years old. I have… bulges. And cellulite. As much as I am dying to see you naked, I would prefer you not see me all that clearly."

"You want to see me naked?" The thought clearly flattered him.

" 'See' you naked?" She snorted. "I want to draw you naked. Preferably while I have my clothes on."

He considered it a moment. "Okay. Now, open your shirt."

Her heart skipped. "Are you saying you'll let me draw you?"

He arched a dark brow. "Those buttons better start popping open in the next two seconds, or they'll be popping off."

"All right, all right." She untied the shirttail at her waist. "Jeez, you are so demanding."

"Yeah, and I can tell you find it a real turnoff."

He was right, she realized. This alpha male side of him thrilled her on a purely primal level. Her nerves sparked with little thrills as she opened the shirt, then held in her stomach as best she could before spreading it open to hang on either side of her breasts.

His hot gaze fell to the abundant swells of creamy flesh over the bronze-colored bra. Feeling wicked and female, she unsnapped the clasp between the cups and parted the bra slowly. The brush of air puckered her nipples to aching peaks.

His expression went blank as he stared down at her, transfixed. "God, how can you be even more beautiful?"

She wanted to point out that she wasn't. She was bigger, true, but she wasn't as firm.

He didn't seem to care. Almost reverently, he pulled his hands from her shorts and cupped both breasts, stroked them softly. With her hands on the counter, she arched back, offering herself to him. -Glorious pleasure filled her at the feel of him lifting the weight of her breasts, at his mouth suckling one nipple and his fingers teasing the other.

Her legs tightened about his waist as pleasure built and built, then burst again, as bright and wondrous as it had been the first time.

He chuckled against her breasts, but she refused to be embarrassed this time. As her senses cleared, she grabbed his shirt and tugged, wanting to get to bare skin.

In one swift move, he had his shirt off and sailing for the far corner. He started to return to feasting on her breasts, but she held him back so she could have her turn touching him. Oh wow. He felt even better than she'd expected, she marveled as she ran her hands over his shoulders and down his arms.

The tattoos were like Celtic armbands, but the designs were Native American. They distracted her only briefly before she moved on to his torso. Her mouth watered as she learned his contours with her eager hands.

His muscles twitched at a touch here, a caress there, but he held himself rigidly still, allowing her to explore. When she leaned forward, though, to lick one flat, male nipple, his control snapped.

"Okay, that's it." He scooped her off the counter. "If I don't get inside you quick, this will all be over."

He strode toward the bed with her arms and legs wrapped about him. They tumbled onto the mattress, pulling at their remaining clothes until they were finally naked and free. And he was kissing her. Kissing her the way he always had. Long and deep, as if he could kiss her forever.

Her whole body sang with joy as he rolled her onto her back. He'd pulled a condom from somewhere and had it on with lightning speed. When he settled between her thighs, bracing himself on his straight arms so he could watch her, she smiled up at him and stroked his hard abs.

Nothing existed but the two of them and this moment. She lifted her hips in invitation. And when he sank slowly, fully, into her, stretching her and filling her, she laughed and came apart again, just like that. Just from the feel of him inside her once again.

"I love the way you laugh," he said in a low rumble, rotating his hips.

She smiled weakly and out of breath as he moved inside her. "I love the way you make me laugh."

She waited for him to take her hard and fast, in a blinding race toward fulfillment, but somewhere along the way, he'd learned restraint-learned that prolonged pleasure burned hotter and sweeter.

Slowly, he drove her mad with long, deep, calculated thrusts. She felt half crazed and on the verge of begging by the time he lowered his body over hers and took her mouth in a fevered kiss.

Yes, she wanted to shout as she moved her hands down his back and cupped the tight backside she'd drooled over since seeing him again. She squeezed the flexing muscles, pulling him to her as she lifted her hips. Finally he gave himself over to that wild rush toward the pinnacle. They reached it together, and hung suspended for a moment, before he collapsed on top of her, boneles.s and spent.

"Oh God yes." She laughed again as she wrapped her arms about him. "I think I could do that about five more times."

He moaned into the pillow. "I thought you just did. At least five times."

"I said five more times."

Groaning, he rolled off of her the best he could on such a narrow bed and draped an arm over his eyes. "Okay, I'm game. Just… give me a minute. Or ten. To catch my breath."

She snuggled against him with her head on his shoulder. "And here I thought Rangers were tough."

"Honey…" He lifted his arm to look at her. "If I weren't, we never would have made it to the bed."

"I'm not that heavy."

"No, but you are that hot." He kissed her forehead, stroking her hair. "And that beautiful."

Ducking her head, she bit her lip to hold back a rush of words. It was all so much, so fast. Was either one of them ready for where they might be headed?