His Sugar Baby(62)
When they emerged into the chilly night, Michael placed his arm over her shoulders. He liked the warmth of her body where she was tucked against him. He breathed in her feminine scent, mingled with the muskiness of his own. He was relaxed and content in the moment. “Where are you parked? I’ll walk you to your car.”
“It’s over there, under the light.”
They walked through the almost-deserted parking lot to the Lexus. Winter pressed the lock and opened the door. Before she could slide in, Michael drew her up tight against him, closing his arms around her back. She slid her own arms under his coat, around his waist. He closed his eyes, reveling in her pliant warmth. His heart thudded solidly. He could almost make himself believe that he cared for her.
He held her for several seconds. Then he sighed, pressed his lips to her forehead, and released her. His voice was unusually husky even to his own ears. “Goodnight, Winter.”
She glanced up into his face, apparently wondering at his unusual show of affection. The streetlight was above and behind him, so that his face was in shadow. She could not possibly read anything in his expression. It didn’t really matter, he told himself. There was nothing for her to see.
“Goodnight, Michael.”
Michael let Winter turn away and waited while she got into the Lexus. He closed the door for her and stepped back. She gave a small wave as she started the vehicle and put it into gear.
Michael watched as she backed out of the space and drove off before he walked away toward his own vehicle. His mind whirled. His whole being still tingled from the erotic rendezvous with Winter. He was still grappling with the unexpected feeling of tenderness. All he knew for sure was that he had changed his mind. He wasn’t going to let her go. Caught up in sensual memory, he barely registered a faint alarm pinging somewhere, and it wasn’t the alarm on his Porsche.
Cathy met with the oncologist very early the following morning. Against all of her hopes to the contrary, she was told that Chloe wouldn’t be going back home with her any time soon.
“This cough continues to worry me. I don’t know what is causing it.” Dr. Richards frowned over his thoughts. “I want to run some more tests and keep a closer eye on her.”
Cathy nodded and swallowed past the tightness in her throat. The time that she and Chloe had been able to be together, just the two of them, had been very precious but all too brief. She comforted herself with the fact that the hematopoietic stem cell transplantation still continued to look good. It was the first thing she had asked about, and the oncologist had reassured her on that point.
She didn’t voice the depth of her concern to the oncologist, but the heavy dread beat inside of her. Infections of any kind were a danger to a patient like Chloe, and often the cause was not an environmental factor but actually originated with the patient.
Dr. Richards appeared to sense something of her unease. He smiled reassuringly at her. “Don’t worry, Cathy. Whatever is causing the cough will be isolated and treated.”
Cathy nodded. “Yes, I know.” Chloe will be fine. Chloe will be fine.
Chapter Twenty
At the beginning of his affair with Winter, Michael had been completely blasé. However, over the passing weeks and months, his attitude had insidiously and inexorably eroded. He couldn’t put a finger on when it had happened, but it had. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. He couldn’t stop recalling her fresh, womanly scent, the soft feel of her flesh, or the way that he felt more alive whenever he was with her. He baldly acknowledged to himself that his interest in her had become much more than about the incredibly satisfying sex.
Winter was a complexity that had begun to fascinate him. Her intelligence, her fire, her quiet strength, all had deepened for him into a consuming passion. He had even gone back to buy that damned silver sickle-moon necklace for her, though he hadn’t decided when to give it to her. He had seen the glowing expression of appreciation in her eyes and had watched it slowly fade. When she had suggested the substitution of a gift card instead, he had concluded that she had thought the necklace was too extravagant a gift for her to accept. Perversely, he had wanted her to have it. He had not made a big production when she settled on the less-expensive bracelet. Instead, knowing that she had no idea of the worth of the necklace, he had loaded the gift card with the full price of the piece. He wanted her to be aware that he valued her.
He was puzzled by his own deepening interest in the woman. He wanted to know things about her. Who was she when she wasn’t with him? What was her life as a single mother like? How old was her daughter? What were her secrets?
The most startling thing to him was that he just wanted to be around her, even without the sex. It was the reason why he had invited her to come over to cook dinner together, making it clear that it was to be an evening with no strings attached. Winter seemed delighted by his suggestion. She volunteered to make the entrée, and he had agreed, pleasantly surprised when she brought the ingredients for home-baked lasagna. It was his turn to surprise her when he offered to chop the onions that were to be put in to brown with the meat. “Are you going to cry?” she asked.
“What do you think I am, a girl?” he retorted, making an exaggerated swipe across his tearing eyes. Winter laughed at him, her face lighting up. While they talked, Michael offered to open the wine, and she accepted a glass of red from him. She tasted it, complimenting him on the selection, but soon exchanged the wineglass for a whisk. She whipped eggs into ricotta cheese and then drained the hot lasagna noodles.