Page 90 of What About Love

“I know, baby, and we’ll get into all that tonight. If you’ve got plans, cancel them. I’ll be here at six with dinner and we’ll talk.” His head popped up, and he cupped her chin with a gentle hand. “Got it?”

Lucidity returned, just barely. “I don’t know.”

Sleep mussed and sexy, he collected another kiss, as molten hot as the previous one, but shorter. It left her whimpering and following his lips for more when he lifted his head seconds later.

“How about now? Or do you need more convincing?”

“Yes. Um, no. Oh, hell,” she managed in a whisper, “I can’t think when you do that.”

“You got it.” He grinned, answering for her. T kissed her hard one more time before rolling off the bed.

In seconds, he tugged up his jeans, pulled on his black T-shirt, and was stuffing keys and his billfold in his pockets. He sat on the bed to pull on his boots, twisting and planting one fist into the mattress by her hip as he stretched easily across the expanse of her queen-size bed to retrieve his phone from the far nightstand when he was done. On the way back, he paused for one more lingering kiss.

“Six o’clock, baby. Come hell or high water.”

Then he was gone.

In a daze or euphoria and longing, as well as dehydration caused by her overindulgence, she got ready for work.

Chapter 21

ASPIRIN, SEVERAL GLASSESof water, dry toast, and a hot shower brought her back to life enough to slog into the office by 9 a.m. She’d wrapped up a few cases the prior week and had reports and billing sheets to complete. Working steadily, it was past noon when her stiff back told her it was time for a break.

No supper, at least six, okay, more like eight tequila shooters—what had she been thinking?—and no breakfast to speak of this morning, she should have been ravenous but was still a tad green. Feeling the need to stretch her legs, she left her office.

As she walked down the corridor toward the lobby, she saw a woman standing inside the door, talking animatedly to someone out of her view. Older, strikingly beautiful, with wavy dark hair that fell a bit past her shoulders, when Angie approached, she glanced her way. Her mocha-brown eyes were very familiar. Without a doubt, this was T’s mother.

As she stepped past the end of the hallway that opened into the lobby, she spotted him standing opposite her, his hands on his hips, head hanging forward, eyes closed. Clearly, he was striving for patience.

“Excuse me for taking an interest in my only son’s life.” Her slightly accented voice flowed in a mellow alto, reminding her of the dom she danced with the other night. She could listen to European accents all day. On the other hand, there was something about a slow southern drawl.

She didn’t falter as she continued berating her son. “You were away for years, then when you come home, I hardly see you. I’ll be fifty-six next week, Tonio. I won’t be around forever, you know.”

“All right, Ma. I’ll be over for Sunday dinner. I promise.”

Angie took a step back, not wanting to intrude, but the older woman wouldn’t allow it.

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