Flirting with Fifty

“I feel that way now,” he added. “You feel right in my arms. You fit. I felt this in Paris. I still feel it.”

Her eyes stung and a lump filled her throat. She held tight to his arms, holding him, holding on. “What would have happened if I hadn’t panicked and run away?”

“I’ve thought about that a lot.”

“Have you?” she asked, unable to mask her surprise.

“I dug you.” He kissed the side of her cheek, and then just beneath her earlobe. “You were beautiful. Smart. Sexy.”

“Sexy?” She turned in his arms to look at him properly. “I was not sexy. I was chubby and nerdy and—”

“Smart. So smart, and gorgeous, and funny. You were this sun-kissed California girl with blond hair, big blue eyes, and the softest-looking mouth I’ve ever seen. You made me hard. I fantasized about you all the time.”

“You did?”

“Yes. And your legs. I loved your legs. I loved your short skirts. Little denim skirts, tight little tank tops, some that I could see your nipples through—”

She punched him in the chest. “That’s not true.”

“It was true. And I spent a lot of time thinking about how I wanted to suck your nipples—”

She punched him again. “Stop it.”

“And lick them.”

Paige squirmed, embarrassed, aroused. “Okay, great. That was then, this is now.”

“And I still am obsessed with your legs and your breasts, and everything in between.”

She closed her eyes, pressed her knees together, feeling heat and a coil of maddening, distracting tension.

Who would have thought that just a little dirty talk would turn her on?

“I had no idea you even knew I existed,” she said unsteadily.

His teeth caught her earlobe, scraping the tender skin. “That’s not true. You watched me, just as I watched you. There was a lot of eye contact, and I knew you were as curious about me as I was about you.”

She didn’t know if it was the rasp in his voice, or the warmth of his mouth on her ear, but she was breathless. Her pulse thudded and she was sensitive all over. She’d begun to hum from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. “I was curious.” Paige lightly dragged her nails across his forearm wrapped around her waist. “I wanted to know everything about you. That night at the restaurant, I could have talked to you forever.”

“You should have.” He kissed the side of her neck, and again lower. “I wish you’d stayed and we could have figured out this thing between us, because there is something. It was there from the beginning. It’s there now. I suspect this connection will always be there.”

She pressed his arms even closer, making him hold her tighter. “I’m glad you invited me here, Jack.”

“I’m glad you joined me.”

The wind blew, cold, biting, and she shivered. “It’s getting late,” she said regretfully.

“It is, and we have an early morning.”

“Do we?”

“We have a morning drive planned. Thought we’d get out of here and watch the sun rise.”

“Who all is going?”

“Just you and me. I’ve got keys and Zach’s car. What do you think?”

Montana was already an hour ahead in terms of time zones. She dreaded waking up even earlier. “How early?”

“You’ll survive.”

“That early?”

He rose, pulled her to her feet. “I’ll bring coffee, how’s that?”

“You know all the right things to say.”

He kissed her again on the doorstep of her small cabin. The kiss was even better than earlier, full of heat and hunger, and she pressed herself to him, savoring the feel of his hard body against hers. Kissing was waking her up, reminding her body how it felt to be touched, and how seductive touch could be. Somehow, she’d forgotten that her skin had nerve endings and that her body was good for more than carrying things and exercising. Her body could give her pleasure. Imagine.

Inside her cabin, Paige locked the door and listened to Jack’s footsteps retreat.

Smiling, she bit her lip. She’d see him in just hours, and she couldn’t wait. A few minutes later, tucked into her bed, Paige squeezed her pillow to her chest, reliving the kisses and the conversation.

She liked it all . . . him, his mind, his mouth, his body. Every time he touched her, she felt . . . beautiful. Alive. She’d forgotten what it felt like to be held, and her body still tingled, sensitive from head to toe. She’d forgotten the ache of desire, heat humming in her veins, everything warm, wanting. Paige suspected not everyone would make her feel this way.

After returning from Paris, Paige had immersed herself in her graduate studies. She hadn’t dated seriously, or extensively, before she’d met Ted her final year at UC Berkeley. He was finishing his MBA and she was finishing her PhD. He’d taken six years off between earning his undergraduate degree and his master’s. Ted had a plan for his life, a vision, and she admired people with plans. She admired Ted’s plans.

She just hadn’t realized that after marrying her, he wouldn’t spend much energy or time focusing on their young family. Paige had tried to tell herself he was busy and stressed. He had a lot of pressure on him, and because he was the breadwinner at that point, she had to respect his schedule and demands. She didn’t view herself as old-fashioned, but committed. She took her vows seriously, looked at no other men, refused to imagine any other life. She was determined to make her marriage work.

It wasn’t that easy. Why had it been so hard? Her parents had made it work. Both of her grandparents had made marriage work. Even Ted’s parents were still together.

Looking back, she’d put up with things she shouldn’t have had to put up with because she wasn’t a quitter. She didn’t accept defeat. She wasn’t going to have her girls come from a broken home. She wanted to be a couple, wanted to grow old with her husband, going from parents to grandparents, from Mom and Dad to Grandma and Grandpa. She’d needed to be that ideal family, that traditional family. Hardworking, practical, no excuses.

Paige tossed aside her pillow and reached for the water bottle next to her bed. She took a long drink, and then another.

If she just wanted sex with Jack, things would be easy. He was easy. But her interest was deeper, her feelings more complicated.

Feeling again, much less desiring again, was terrifying. It made her realize her walls weren’t that strong. Her armor wasn’t impenetrable. If she could feel so much kissing Jack, she could also be hurt. She didn’t want to hurt.

Paige shivered and lay back down, pulling the covers higher. Her cabin was cold. She was chilled. But Jack wouldn’t hurt her, she told herself, curling into a ball to get warm. That’s not who Jack was.

But another little voice whispered, He’s fifty-five and single, which means he’s not that interested in settling down.