Page 9 of In the Arms of a Hero

“I just like the idea of people who love each other enough to want to capture moments in time. I sometimes wonder if Bess and my parents don’t get tired of me taking pictures of them.”

He smiled, hating when the server interrupted to bring their check. He tossed out his credit card, then looked around to see the restaurant was almost filled. He wanted more time with her—more time to get to know her.

She had finished her beer, and her half burger was now boxed and ready to go, but it seemed she wasn’t ready for the date to end either. “So I know you have a brother. Do you have any other family?”

“Just Andy and my dad. The three of us are close.” Praying she would leave his comments alone, he was pleased when shesimply held his gaze, offered a slight smile, and looked up as the server placed his card back on the table.

Once he pocketed the card, he escorted her back to his car. She was quieter, and he knew it was his fault. For some reason, he’d clammed up, unable to think of what to say about his family. Hoping he hadn’t ruined the date, he prodded, “So tell me about the wedding you’re going to photograph tomorrow.”

“Oh, there’s nothing particularly interesting about it.”

“I’m interested in anything to do with you.” The words came naturally, and he meant them. It was always when conversations turned toward his family that he felt ill at ease. Another thing he blamed on his absent mother.

She turned toward him, and he could feel her penetrating gaze as though trying to decide whether he was telling the truth. Her lips finally curved. “It’s going to be an afternoon wedding at one of the small churches in the area, and then the reception will be right there in the church hall. The location makes it a lot simpler, although it doesn’t give me a lot of great backdrops. A graveyard surrounds two sides of the church, and I’ll have to figure out the best lighting to place the bride and groom for some pictures that won’t involve headstones behind them.”

At that, Aaron barked out a laugh. “I had no idea what might go into wedding photos!”

It didn’t take long to drive back to the bakery. As he parked, she turned to him and said, “Would you like to come up for a drink? I know that sounds like a pickup line, but I’d really just like to have more time to talk with you.”

Her honesty was refreshing, and relief scored through him. It wasn’t the first time he’d been invited for drinks or had made the invitation himself. And it was always a euphemism for sex. But with Belinda, he accepted it at face value, knowing she meant what she said. “I’d love to. Getting to know you more is exactly what I’d like to do.”

They entered the door by the bakery, and he was glad to see it was key-locked. Upstairs, there was a hall with two doors. She passed the first door on the left and unlocked the second.

“Bess lives there,” she said, indicating the door next to hers.

Entering, his gaze scanned the area quickly to find out more about the woman who captured his interest. The walls were painted the palest color of blue, and the lights were reflected as she flipped the switch on the wall, making the space seem larger. Her furniture was also in pale colors. The kitchen table to the right was filled with computer equipment.

But what really snagged his gaze were the photographs on the walls. Gulls flying over the bay. Seaglass washed up on the sand. Sand runners racing in the surf. A sailboat in the Baytown Harbor. Freighters anchored in the bay, awaiting their turn to proceed to Baltimore. A black-and-white photograph of an old oysterman standing waist-deep in the water of the bay with his boat just behind him. Each photograph pulled him in. Having grown up on the Eastern Shore, he appreciated every picture, noting how she’d captured the subjects perfectly.

He turned toward her, seeing her lips pulled in. She appeared to hold her breath as though awaiting his critique.

“These are fucking fantastic,” he said.

A breath escaped her lips, and her smile widened as her eyes brightened. “I’m glad you like them. They all mean something to me. I know I’m a good photographer, but it's always nerve-racking when someone sees your work for the first time.”

Stepping closer, he placed his hands on her shoulders and bent slightly to hold her gaze. “You should never be nervous about anyone seeing your work, Belinda. It’s wonderful.”

Her smile remained, but her gaze dropped to his lips. Her beautiful eyes snagged his attention, but he’d stared at her pink, plump lips all evening. Not wanting to misread the moment, he waited.

Time passed slowly, but she moved closer, reaching up to place her hands on his waist. She tilted her head as he slid his arms from her shoulders to her back.

He bent farther, stopping just before their lips met. While it seemed she was offering her mouth to him, he didn’t want to misread her cues. “I’d like to kiss you.”

She smiled and nodded slowly. “I’d like to kiss you, too.”

Without hesitation, he leaned closer and erased the space between them, sealing his mouth over hers. He didn’t know what he expected. As a younger man when he was into hookups, kissing was rare. In the past few years, when he dated and had exclusive relationships with girlfriends, kissing had often just led to sex. But now, all those thoughts blurred until they were nonexistent as she gently pressed her curves to him, and he received the gift eagerly. The kiss was hot but not wild. He made sure of that, holding back when he wanted to let go. She lifted on her toes, and his arms banded tightly to support her, keeping her mouth right where he wanted it.

Time seemed to slow, holding itself in anticipation. He glided one hand upward to cup her jaw, angling their faces to more easily allow his tongue to slip inside her warmth without their noses bumping. He traced the contours of her cheek with the reverence of a sculptor admiring his muse, discovering her skin to be as soft as he imagined.

Their breaths mingled, a prelude to what was building between them. The kiss deepened from a tentative exploration to a passion-filled declaration. His heartbeat quickened, a rare occurrence with just a kiss.

When he finally distanced his lips from hers, she leaned forward with her eyes still closed, her mouth still reaching for his lips. He dragged in a raspy breath, and her eyes opened, the lust in them slowly dissipating as her chest also heaved with the effort of breathing.

“Oh…” she whispered. Her eyes blinked, but no other words came forth.

“I… really should go.” He realized how his statement sounded as her cheeks spotted with blush, and she settled her heels on the floor with a thump. “No, no,” he rushed. “I don’t want to go.”

“I’m confused,” she said, her brow furrowing.

---