She stirred against the pillows and reached out one small hand to his side of the bed. When she encountered only air, she opened her eyes and lifted her head. It took her a moment to find him in the shadowed corner where he sat in his dark clothes. When she spotted him, she smiled, and he could almost believe the brilliance of it lightened the room.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi, yourself. Did you rest well?”
“Yes. And now I’m starving.”
He smiled. “I thought you would be. Martha has taken the rest of the evening off, but she left a pot of stew and a pan of cornbread in the kitchen for us.”
“The woman is a saint,” Nicole said fervently, reaching for her clothes. “Whatever you’re paying her, it isn’t enough.”
Nicole was probably right. He made a mental note to give Martha a raise for the new year.
He wished it would be so easy to ensure that Nicole would stay with him.
AFTER THEIR LEISURELY raid on the kitchen, they returned by unspoken agreement to Andrew’s bedroom. There, they reclined together in his bed and watched the late-night news, after which Nicole suggested that they turn to a cable channel that specialized in old TV sitcoms.
She had a weakness for those wonderful old shows, she admitted with a smile. And then she happily snuggled into his shoulder to watch “The Dick Van Dyke Show,” “The Bob Newhart Show” and “Taxi.” She could quote most of the lines—and did—but still laughed at each punch line.
Andrew wasn’t paying much attention to the television screen. He couldn’t stop watching Nicole.
She seemed to take such delight in everything. Dancing, conversing, eating, watching TV. Making love.
He rather envied her the ability to live for the moment, to savor each pleasure, no matter how fleeting. If she worried about tomorrow, she hid it well. Whereas his own enjoyment of being with her was slightly dimmed by his dread of eventually watching her leave.
As though sensing his solemn gaze on her, Nicole glanced away from the television to look up at him. “Are you getting tired? Would you like me to turn this off?”
He shook his hea
d. “Watch as long as you like. I’m fine.”
But she seemed to have lost interest in the program. “You don’t like the old shows?”
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “They’re okay. I’ve always liked Bob Newhart, particularly in his original show.”
“The one in which he plays a successful, work-obsessed, rather serious and compulsive type? Gee, I wonder why that one would appeal to you?”
He frowned in response to her tone. “Are you implying that I’m like that?”
“That you take everything a bit too seriously? If the shoe fits—”
His frown deepened.
Nicole laughed softly and reached up to kiss his cheek. “I’m only teasing you, Andrew. Don’t be offended.”
“I’m not offended,” he replied a bit stiffly. And he wasn’t. She was probably closer to the truth than she knew in her summary of him—which only worried him more.
It must be obvious that he was very different from her. When she was no longer amused by him, would she find him a bore? How long would it be before she was impatient to move on to someone more spontaneous and outgoing? Someone more like herself?
She lifted a hand to his cheek. “Sometimes you look at me so seriously. What are you thinking?”
“That I’m glad I met you,” he replied promptly.
That, at least, was true. Whatever happened, he would always look back on this time with pleasure and with wonder. He would always remember that, for a few curious, almost surreal hours, he’d known what it was like to be happy.
Without warning, he shifted his weight, rolling her onto her back and beneath him. He crushed her mouth beneath his, holding her against him so tightly he could almost imagine that she was permanently bonded to him.
It took him a moment to realize that she was squirming beneath him.