“Because Dmitri asked me to dance, for one thing.”
“He’s a commie bastard. Stay away from him.”
Georgeanne leaned back far enough to look up into his face. “I thought he was your friend.”
“He was.”
A frown creased her forehead. “What happened?”
“We both want the same thing, only he isn’t going to get it.”
“What do you want?”
There were a lot of things he wanted. “I saw you talking to Virgil. What did he say?”
“Not a lot. I told him I was sorry for what happened seven years ago, but he wouldn’t accept my apology.” She appeared puzzled for a moment, then shook her head and looked away. “You said he’d moved on, but he’s still very bitter.”
John slid his palm to the side of her throat and lifted her chin with his thumb. “Don’t worry about him.” He stared into her face, then raised his eyes to the old man staring back at him. His gaze found Dmitri and a half dozen other men who’d taken shifty-eyed glances at Georgeanne’s bustline. Then he lowered his face and his lips took possession of hers. He possessed her with his mouth and tongue and his hand moving from her back to her behind. The kiss was deliberate, long, hard. She clung to him, and when he finally lifted his mouth, she was breathless.
“Cryin‘ all night,” she whispered.
“Now, tell me about Charles.” Her gaze was a little glassy and a bit dazed. The passion in her eyes made him think of tangled bedsheets and soft flesh.
“You want to know about Charles?”
“Lexie told me you’re thinking of marrying him.”
“I told him no.”
Relief washed over him. He wrapped his arms tight around her and smiled into her hair. “You look beautiful tonight,” he said into her ear. Then he pulled back and looked at her face, at her luscious mouth, and said, “Why don’t we find someplace where I can take advantage of you? How big is the counter in the women’s bathroom?”
He recognized the spark of interest in her eyes before she turned her head and tried to hide her smile. “Are you high on drugs, John Kowalsky?”
“Not tonight,” he laughed. “I listened to Nancy Reagan and just said no. How about you?”
“Of course not,” she scoffed.
The music ended and a faster song began. “Where’s Lexie?” she asked above the noise.
John looked over at the table where he’d left her and pointed her out. Her cheek rested in her palm and her lids were lowered to half-mast. “She looks like she’s about to pass out.”
“I better take her home.”
John slid his hands from her back up to her shoulders. “I’ll carry her out to your car.”
Georgeanne thought about his offer for a moment, then decided to let him. “That would be great. I’ll get my purse and I’ll meet you out there.” His grasp on her arms tightened a fraction, then he released her. She watched him walk toward Lexie, then turned to find Mae.
There was definitely something different in his touch tonight. Something in the way he held her and kissed her. Something hot and possessive as if he were reluctant to let her go. She cautioned herself not to read too much into it, but a warm little glow had settled about her heart.
She quickly retrieved her purse and bid Mae and Hugh good-bye. When she walked outside, night had fallen, and the parking lot was illuminated by streetlights. She spotted John leaning his behind against her car. He’d wrapped Lexie in his wool jacket and held her against his chest. His white shirt stood out in the dark parking lot.
“It doesn’t work that way,” she heard him tell Lexie. “You can’t name yourself. Someone else has to start calling you something, and the name just sticks. Do you think Ed Jovanovski chose to call himself ‘Special Ed’?”
“But I want to be ‘The Cat.’ ”
“You can’t be ‘The Cat.’ ” He looked up at Georgeanne and pushed away from the car. “Felix Potvin is ‘The Cat.’”
“Can I be a dog?” Lexie asked, resting her head on his shoulder.
“I don’t think you really want people to call you Lexie ‘The Dog’ Kowalsky, do you?”
Lexie giggled into the side of his neck. “No, but I want to have a name like you do.”
“If you want to be a cat, how about a cheetah? Lexie ‘The Cheetah’ Kowalsky.”
“Okay,” she said through a yawn. “Daddy, do you know why animals don’t play cards in the jungle?”
Georgeanne rolled her eyes and fit her key into the lock.
“Because there are too many cheetahs,” he answered. “You told me that joke about fifty times already.”
“Oh, I forgot.”
“I didn’t think you ever forgot anything.” John chuckled and placed Lexie in the passenger seat. The car’s dome light glistened in his dark hair, and illuminated his blue and red paisley suspenders. “I’ll see you at the hockey game tomorrow night.”
Lexie reached for her seat belt and buckled it. “Give me some sugar, Daddy.” She pursed her lips and waited.
Georgeanne smiled and walked to the driver’s side of the car. The way John cared for Lexie touched a tender spot in her heart. He was a great father, and no matter what happened between Georgeanne and John, she would always love him for loving Lexie.
“Hey, Georgie?” His voice called to her like a warm touch on the chilled night air.
She looked across the roof of the car and into John’s face, partially hidden in nighttime shadows.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Well, home, of course.”
He chuckled deep within his chest. “Don’t you want to give Daddy some sugar?”
Temptation taunted her weak will and self-control. Heck, who was she kidding? Where John was concerned, she had no self-control at all. Especially after that kiss he’d given her. She yanked open the driver’s-side door before she had a chance to even consider his alluring proposition. “Not tonight, stud boy.”
“Did you just call me stud boy?”
She placed one foot on the doorframe. “It’s an improvement over what I called you last month,” she said, and slipped inside the car. She started the engine, and with John’s laughter filling the night, she drove out of the parking lot.
On the way home, she thought about the difference in him. Her heart wanted to believe it all meant something wonderful, like maybe he’d gotten hit in the head with a hockey puck, and he’d suddenly come to his senses and realized that he couldn’t live without her. But her experiences with John told her different. She knew better than to project her feelings onto him and look for hidden motives. Trying to decipher his every word and touch was nutty. Whenever she let her guard down with him, she always got hurt.
After she put Lexie to bed, Georgeanne hung John’s suit jacket on the back of a kitchen chair and kicked off her shoes. A light rain pattered her windows as she brewed water for a cup of herbal tea. She moved to the chair and smoothed her fingers across the shoulder seam of John’s jacket, recalling exactly how he’d looked standing across the aisle at the church, his blue eyes staring into hers. She remembered the scent of his cologne and the sound of his voice. Why don’t we find someplace where I can take advantage of you, he’d said, and she’d been tempted.
Pongo let loose with a string of yapping seconds before the doorbell rang. Georgeanne dropped her hand to her side and scooped up the dog on her way to the entrance. She wasn’t really surprised to find John on her front steps, raindrops glistening in his dark hair.
“I forgot to give you the tickets to tomorrow night’s game,” he said, and held out an envelope.
Georgeanne took the tickets, and against her better judgment, she invited him inside. “I’m making tea. Would you like some?”
“Hot?”
“Yep?”
“Do you have any iced tea?”
“Of course, I’m from Texas.” She walked back into the kitchen and deposited Pongo on the floor. The dog ran over to John and licked his shoe.