Finding Mr. Right

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“I will, Byron,” she said at last and breathed deeply in relief, “but you promised not to rush me.”

He slid an arm around her. “I know I did, but I had to know, because we need to talk. Instead of going to the concert tomorrow night, will you have dinner with me?”

She hid her surprise at his change of plans. “What time?”

“I’ll be here at six-thirty. Okay?”

“That’s fine,” she said and stroked the back of his hand almost absentmindedly. “It’ll be a long day.”

“Does that mean you’ll be eager to see me?”

“That’s what it means.” His eyes seemed to devour her. Then a half smile played around his lips.

“If we weren’t right under this streetlight. I’d kiss you silly.” He got out, went around and opened her door and headed up the walk to her house.

Unwilling to let him leave so soon, she said, “Why did Clark invite you to spend the night here? I don’t get the sense that you two are really close friends.”

“Our offices are in the same building and, occasionally, we eat lunch together. At the time, he was an expert witness on a case I had here in Frederick. The judge wanted the trial at nine o’clock, and that didn’t suit me, but it suited Clark, so he suggested that I spend the night here. As an added incentive, he raved about Maggie’s cooking, because he knew how much I love good food. He didn’t mention you, and it’s a good thing that he didn’t, because I don’t like being set up.”

“He told me he was bringing a houseguest, but he certainly didn’t describe you. I thought he was bringing a girlfriend.”

Byron stepped closer. “It happened when you opened the door. Why don’t you stop fighting it?” He brought her into his arms. “Kiss me. I’m starved for you.”

She reached up to kiss him playfully on the cheek, but he moved to capture her lips. She tasted his hunger and his driving need. She pulled his tongue deeper into her, answering him with her own rising passion. He grabbed her buttocks and fastened her body to his. She could feel him then, and heat began to simmer in her loins as she pressed herself to him until, nearly frantic with the need to explode, she undulated wildly.

Out of her mind with desire she grabbed his hand and rubbed her left breast with it until he began to pinch and squeeze it. “Do something,” she moaned. “I’m aching.”

She thought she would die from the feeling of his long fingers on her skin as he released her breast from her scooped-neck dress. Lifting her, he sucked her left nipple into his mouth while he teased and pinched the other one. She’d never felt anything in her life like the throbbing between her legs. And still he suckled her.

“Oh, my lord. I can’t stand this,” she moaned, shaking from the onslaught of his passion.

He released her breast and wrapped her in his arms. “We’re going to have to do something about this, sweetheart. Do you feel anything for me other than passion? I know you feel that. Do you? Do you care for me?”

“Yes. Oh, yes, I do. What…what happened a minute ago?” When he stepped back in order to see her face, she wondered if she’d said the wrong thing, if he’d think her immature.

“If we had privacy, we probably would be making love this minute. At least, that’s what we both need right now. Have you ever had a truly satisfying sexual experience?” She shook her head. “It’s something for us both to look forward to.”

She wanted to ask him why the thought brought a smile to his face, but she figured she’d revealed enough for one evening. “I don’t think we’d better consider that right now.”

“I agree. I’ll see you tomorrow at six-thirty. Kiss me, and this time, please don’t turn up the heat.”

“I didn’t turn it up. You turned it up.”

“Did not.”

“Did so, and I can prove it.” When he raised an eyebrow, she reached up and touched his lips with hers until, frustrated, he brushed the tip of his tongue over the seam of her lips until she opened to him. He plunged into her demanding, asking, begging for what he needed until she capitulated and loved him as sweetly and as tenderly as she could, stroking his face, nibbling on his tongue and moaning softly.

“You’re…you’re precious to me,” he said when he could get his breath. “Don’t forget that.”

Long after Byron left her, Tyra stood in the darkened foyer coming to terms with her feelings for Byron. There was no point in fooling herself. Byron Whitley was the man for her, no matter how he happened to come into her life. When she was in her teens and twenties, she didn’t have an opportunity to play the field. Now, she was thirty-one and too old for it. She wanted a family of her own.

She turned on the hall light and started up the stairs, rubbing her hands along the banister that she’d slid down so many times in happier days before her parents died. I’ve been so busy trying to relive the youth I missed, that I almost missed out on the prime of my life. I’m through with that. Byron asked for a chance, and I’m going to give him one.

Byron’s problem at the moment did not involve questions about his feelings for Tyra. He knew he loved her. The questions that gnawed at him were how she would react when he told her about Andy, and how would she and his son get along. Maybe having had to nurture her siblings when she herself still needed nurturing had turned her against children. Maybe she’d find it difficult to love another woman’s child.

I should have told her before it got this far, before we began to need each other. But what the heck! The die was cast when we met, and I didn’t have a reason to tell her anything personal. Besides, it happened so fast.

He tiptoed into Andy’s room and stood beside the child’s bed marveling at his son as Andy stretched, hugged his teddy bear and sank into a deeper sleep. He knew that, in spite of his feelings for Tyra, he’d close his heart and his mind to her and get on with his life if she couldn’t accept his child as her own. He leaned down, kissed the boy’s forehead, turned out the light and closed the door. Life could play cruel tricks, but if he were fortunate this time, he’d have a real home and family. But he wasn’t going to rush it. He’d introduce her to Andy when the time was right and not before.

With his mind at ease, he turned his thoughts to one of his clients. He didn’t like the man, because of his alcoholism. The man swore that he could stop drinking, if he wanted to and probably believed it. He agreed to take the man’s case because his teenage daughter needed help. Yet, he had a nagging feeling that his client was basically selfish, that he didn’t really have his daughter’s interest at heart. After reading two similar cases, he shrugged. What would be would be. A peaceful sleep awaited him the minute he put his head on the pillow.