Rosewood Lane (Cedar Cove #2)(26)

“That might be interesting.” Jon took another sip of beer, and Maryellen could see he was trying hard to disguise a smile.

“Maryellen said you also take pictures.”

“I do a little of that on the side.”

“Actually, Jon’s a brilliant photographer,” Maryellen rushed to explain, mortified at what he must think.

Trying not to be conspicuous about it, she wandered away and eventually returned to her protective corner. She wasn’t there long before Jon joined her.

“So, Terri’s the woman you wanted to set me up with?” he asked.

“Have you ever done something you regret?” she asked. “I’m afraid this is one of those situations.”

He nodded, but didn’t respond, and they stood in silence for a few minutes.

Someone put a bunch of quarters in the jukebox, and the music started. Several couples formed an impromptu dance floor. Jon made a sweeping gesture. “Shall we?”

Jon didn’t give her a chance to object. He put his beer aside and gently pulled her into his arms.

He felt strong and solid against her, but Maryellen was having none of it. “I don’t think we should,” she said, her posture rigid. She didn’t want Jon to hold her, didn’t want this relationship to be anything but professional. Yet she recognized that she’d broken her own rule in calling him, inviting him here—in acknowledging her attraction to Jon Bowman.

“Relax,” he whispered close to her ear.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

She sighed. “It’s a long story. Jon, I’m serious, this isn’t a good idea.”

“One dance,” he said. “Okay? Think of it as your penance for setting me up with your friend.”

Refusing would be ungracious. “Okay,” she agreed, but reluctantly. She tried to keep her distance, although it was difficult with Jon’s arms around her, urging her closer. The song was that slow-dance classic, “Cherish,” and she couldn’t help feeling affected. If Jon wasn’t so gentle and warm and considerate, it would’ve been easier to maintain her reserve. She began to relax in his embrace.

“Better, much better,” he whispered, leading her across the floor. He stroked her back in a slow circular motion that was doing crazy things to her pulse. The music ended long before she was ready to stop.

“That wasn’t so bad, now was it?” Jon asked.

She blinked up at him, not realizing she’d closed her eyes. “No.” It was scary and wonderful, both at once. She didn’t want to feel any of this. Warning bells were clanging in her head. Nevertheless, when the next song started—even before he asked—she slipped her arms around his neck and swayed toward him.

Jon didn’t say anything, but she could feel his smile. To her own amazement, she was smiling, too.

They danced for what seemed like hours, danced to song after song. They didn’t talk, but the communication between them was unmistakable. The way he held her close told her he’d been interested in her for some time. And the way she responded to his touch told him she found his work brilliant and beautiful, and that he intrigued her—as an artist and a man.

She wanted to know why he answered every question with a question. Did he have secrets? She suspected he must. After all, she had her own. Secrets that had remained buried since the early days of her marriage. No one knew, not even her mother. Not her sister. No one. Perhaps it was this that drew them together. Perhaps this was what he sensed in her and she felt in him. Of one thing Maryellen was sure. Secrets could be dangerous.

The Halloween party was breaking up and Jon suggested he walk her to her car. Maryellen agreed. Knowing that parking would be scarce, she’d used her space behind the art gallery. It would be dark and deserted, and she was glad Jon had offered to escort her.

“I had a good time,” he told her as they entered the alley.

“I did, too.” Darkness swallowed them up no more than two feet from the street.

“I forgive you for wanting to pawn me off on your friend.”

Maryellen’s face instantly went hot, and she felt grateful there wasn’t enough light for Jon to notice. “That was all a misunderstanding.”

He chuckled. “If you say so.”

As she fumbled in her purse for her car keys, Jon stopped her. “I’ve wanted to know you better for years,” he said in a low voice.

Maryellen couldn’t have muttered a word had the fate of the world depended on her reply. She envisioned herself thanking him in a flippant, matter-of-fact way, then whirling around and unlocking her car door. Instead she stood rooted to the spot, staring up at him. He was going to kiss her. That couldn’t happen; she simply couldn’t allow it. Yet, all the while objection after objection marched through her mind, she found herself slowly—against every rational dictate—leaning toward him. Her head was raised, her eyes half-closed.

When his lips met hers, it wasn’t the slow, seductive kiss she’d anticipated. Jon lifted her from the pavement until she stood on the very tips of her toes. His mouth was hungry, urgent, needy as his lips seduced hers. She tasted his passion as his tongue swept her mouth and swallowed his moan as it went on and on and on until she was sure she’d faint.

No man, not even her husband, had kissed her so thoroughly, so passionately. When he broke it off, Maryellen was breathless and speechless. Had he released her, she would’ve crumpled into a heap on the ground.