See You Again (Wishful 8)

“You have to choose,” he murmured.

He was giving her the choice. Maybe it was for himself. Maybe he needed her to do now what she hadn’t done then. But having that power put back into her hands made her all but giddy. So many of the important choices hadn’t really been hers. Cam hadn’t been a choice. He’d been her reality, her world. Without hesitation, she’d given up the life she’d wanted and built a new one around her son—one that often meant her wants and needs were put last, if they got consideration at all. But, as Adele had pointed out, he was grown now. And for the first time in longer than she cared to remember, she felt like a woman.

Her hand trembled as she lifted it to his chest, splaying it over his heart. She felt the thud of it against her palm, a rapid beat that belied his calm demeanor. That made it easier, somehow, to shift in and take the plunge. Eyes still open, she pressed her mouth to his.

She’d only ever kissed him once before, in a weak, stolen moment, after an admission that should’ve changed everything. That kiss had been full of desperation and guilt and a terrible need. She felt the shimmer of that same need awakening inside her, with absolutely nothing left to hold it back. Rising to her toes, she pressed closer, sliding her arms up around Trey’s neck. A noise rumbled in his chest, and his arms wrapped around her, skimming the length of her spine, fitting her body to his. And, oh, what a body. Beneath the conservative suit, she felt the disciplined muscles of an athlete. The years most definitely hadn’t softened…any of him.

It was so very tempting to melt against all that hardness. So, she did, sighing into the kiss, into the heat building between them. She’d known, somewhere deep down, that it would be like this with him. It was why she’d been so ruthlessly careful never to be completely alone with him, never to put herself in a position of temptation. He was tempting her now, stroking his tongue against hers, igniting a five-alarm fire. She could hear the bells.

Wait, that wasn’t an alarm, it was…what was it? The doorbell? No, the phone.

Sandy broke the kiss, looking toward the cordless phone on the wall, across the room. Trey bent his head, busying his mouth along the column of her throat, making her shiver.

“I should…God…”

“You should let the answering machine get it.” He nipped the tendon above her collarbone and had her knees going weak.

She held on tighter, dropping her head back to give him better access.

A moment later, the machine clicked on. “Sandra, I’m sorry to bother you at home. This is Walt Beringer. We’ve had a massive water main blow over on Phibbs Street. I’ve already got my people on it, but we need to get an announcement out. We’ll have to shut the water off in that entire quadrant. Call me ASAP.”

Sandy dropped her brow to Trey’s shoulder and blew out a shuddering breath. “It’s not Tokyo but…”

“Duty calls.” He released her, skimming a quick hand over her cheek. “Do what needs doing. I’ll check on the pork chops.” And he strode across the kitchen, as if they hadn’t just nearly incinerated the kitchen table.

Still breathless, she put on her mayor’s hat, shoved her frustrated arousal aside, and picked up the phone.

Chapter 4

If there were more appealing scents to start the morning than bacon and coffee, Trey didn’t know what they were. The lure of both drew him through the door of Dinner Belles. Even at eight-thirty, the diner was doing brisk business, with three-quarters of the tables still full of patrons nursing plates of pancakes, eggs, sausage, and grits. He could feel his arteries clogging from the smell alone and made a mental note to add a couple of miles to his run tomorrow. Seeing no sign of Sandy, he made a beeline for a booth just being cleared.

After she’d called the water and light department, their tête-à-tête to brainstorm wedding venues—and their unexpected reunion—had been put on hold. They’d had just enough time to inhale the dinner she’d prepared before she had to go in to meet with her people. Hence this morning’s breakfast meeting.

The petite brunette, whose name tag read Hannah, shot a sunny smile in his direction. “I’ll be out of your way in a jiff.”

“No rush.”

Trey knew from his staff that Dinner Belles was the true hub of Wishful. The latest gossip was served up alongside the finest biscuits and pie in a three-hundred-mile radius, which was why he’d studiously avoided the place since he’d started renovations on his hotel. If he’d set foot in here before now, he would’ve risked running into Sandy, who was a regular. Although, given how things had turned out last night, maybe that wouldn’t have been such a bad thing.

The truth had turned everything he’d believed upside down and stripped away all his reservations. How could he fault her for doing what she thought was best for her son? If he’d waited to talk to her instead of letting his broken heart and wounded pride dictate his actions, would things have turned out differently? No sense in regrets, as she’d said. He couldn’t imagine a life without Tess in it. But he’d had no trouble adjusting to the idea of a place in his life for Sandy. He may have buried that dream deep, but in thirty years, he’d never really given it up.

As soon as the booth was cleared, Trey slid in and picked up a menu. The laminated sheet curled a

t the edges, telling him the choices hadn’t changed in years. Combined with the crowd—all shooting curious stares in his direction—that told him the food was damned good. The place reminded him of the greasy spoons he and Sandy had frequented in college. Coffee and studying had given way to talk of life and aspirations. And, eventually, to confidences. He hadn’t been able to step into a diner anywhere in the country without thinking of her.

An older African American woman ambled up to the table, radiating sass. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

She turned over the cup at his elbow and filled it without looking. “Got tired of take out finally?”

“Beg your pardon?”

“You’re the hotel man, aren’t you? Always send your people for take out.”

“Uh, yes, ma’am.” This woman knew who he was?

“That’s a sign you work too much.”