Reunited(17)

“True. I’m a doctor.”

“Yes, but that’s not how I know. I just know you. You’re a kind, gentle person, and you’d never do anything to harm another living soul.”

Especially not one she cared about so deeply.

“No, I wouldn’t. But just so you know, I’ve had all the tests, and I’m clean.”

“Well, I had all the tests when I had my vasectomy three years ago, and I’m clean as well. But I didn’t need the tests, because I’m serious. I’ve only been with you and Michelle.”

“I can’t believe it.” She shook her head.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re Brett Falcone. The Italian Stallion.”

He laughed. “No one’s called me that in years.”

“You still look the part, I must say. You’re still as handsome and delectable as ever.”

“And you’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. You take my breath away, Kath.”

“Wow. Wow.”

“You keep saying that.” He smiled.

“I just can’t imagine why you’ve never been with anyone else.”

“I don’t know why it’s so hard to believe. I married Michelle after you left. She was a virgin on our wedding night. I was married to her until a year ago. I’ve dated a few women, but there was never enough connection to sleep with them.” He pulled her into his arms. “I’d be happy only sleeping with you from now on.”

Her skin warmed. She could get used this. Get used to being held in his arms, his nose sniffing her hair, his hands wandering up her back, caressing her.

But too much remained between them that he didn’t know about. If he ever found out— The phone interrupted her thoughts. She pulled away. “I’m sorry. Will you excuse me for a moment?”

“Sure.” He kissed her cheek, and her tummy fluttered. “Don’t be too long, okay?”

She walked to the kitchen and grabbed the phone off the cradle.

“Hello?”

“Yes, hello,” a deep masculine voice said. “I’m looking for Kathryn Zurakowsky Abbott.”

“This is she. How may I help you?”

“Well,” he cleared his throat. “My name is Michael Patton.”

“Yes?”

“I…uh…”

“What is it, Mr. Patton?”

“I don’t quite know how to say this.” He cleared his throat again. “I think I’m your son.”




Twenty years earlier

Kathryn couldn’t help herself. She kissed him back. More than kissed him back. She threaded her fingers through his black hair—it was as soft as she’d imagined. She caressed his muscular shoulders, his biceps, his sinewy forearms. She ran her fingers over the fabric of his shirt, taking in the hardness of his chest, the firmness of his abdomen. She pushed closer to him, snaked her arms around his waist, squeezed the solid globes of his buttocks.

An ache grew in her tummy, her heart. She wanted to touch more of him. His bare skin. Feel his fingers slide over her own bare flesh. Her skin heated, her pulse raced, an inferno blazed between her legs.

He pulled her closer and his hardness pressed against her abdomen. His penis. She knew what it was. She’d had the sex ed class, the talk with her mother, the gossip with her friends.

She’d never imagined how good it would feel against her, though. How much she’d desire to touch it, to make him feel good…

Out of hand.

This was getting out of hand.

Yet she couldn’t break away. Couldn’t bring herself to withdraw her lips from the sweet firmness of his, the sweet sensation of his tongue twirling around her own…

Somewhere in the background, the click of a key in a lock.

Deb and Bruce were home!

She pushed Brett away and wiped her mouth. Oh, she must look disheveled. This was not good. They didn’t care if she had people over. They’d come over to find her studying with friends before. But this…

Her hands whipped to her lips. They felt tender, swollen. Oh my. Did she look as though she had just been kissed? Because she sure felt as though she had just been kissed. Thoroughly, undoubtedly kissed.

She patted down her clothes. Luckily they weren’t in disarray. Brett hadn’t attempted to feel her again. He looked amazing. Tousled and gorgeous.

“Fix your hair!” she said through clenched teeth.

He shook his head and it fell into place.

“Now sit down with the math book. Hurry.”

She sat down next to him as the door opened.

“Hi, Kathryn,” Deb said. “Studying on a Friday night?”

“Tutoring, actually.” She tried to sound casual, but her voice shook. She hoped Deb and Bruce didn’t notice. “This is Brett. I’m helping him with his algebra.”

“Need to get my grades up for baseball,” Brett offered.

“Well, then, I see why you’re at it on a Friday,” Bruce said. “Sports was always my greatest motivation.” He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and handed Kathryn some bills. “Here you go, Kathryn. Thanks very much.”

“No problem. Terry’s never any trouble. She’s been sleeping soundly since bedtime.” She eyed the pizza carton on the coffee table. “Oh, let me just clean up a little.”