between her legs.
He whispered, his breath warm and soft on her hair. “I just want to touch you.” His lips were on her cheek, soft and dry as he spoke. Her lips parted as she turned her head and found his mouth, and she closed her eyes and moved toward him.
A car door slammed outside in the driveway, and they heard the faint beep of a car alarm being set.
Michael straightened and backed away from Diane. Her hands flew to her cheeks and she drew a deep breath.
The front door banged open. Diane whirled, and her daughter Rachel came into the house.
“Hey, Mom.” Rachel was tall, very slender, wearing a mini-skirt and a tight shirt with long flowing sleeves. She looked past her mother to Michael.
“Gee, Mom, I would have been happy with just an autograph, but this is good too.” She held out her hand. “I’m Rachel. My sisters have been singing your praises all night.”
Michael seemed very calm as he shook her hand. “Michael. Hello. I heard all about you as well. My sister is Angela Bellini.”
“You’re kidding? Dr. Bellini? She is such a nice woman. How is she?”
“Good.” Michael answered easily.
“You had dinner with your dad?” Diane asked. Her voice sounded hoarse, and she cleared her throat.
“Yeah. I’ve been calling you all afternoon, but no answer.” Rachel looked at her mother, then back at Michael.
“My fault,” Michael said. “I roped her into helping my sister paint.”
“Oh, Mom is so good at that,” Rachel exclaimed. “She did a mural on my wall,when I was really little, in our old house, remember Mom? Winnie-the-Pooh. I just loved that room. She could make lots of extra money doing that kind of stuff.”
“Well,” Diane said, giving her daughter a hug, “now that you have a job that pays a living wage, I don’t need to make extra money.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Rachel headed for the kitchen, dropping a handful of belongings in a heap on the coffee table. “Can I get a drink of something?”
“Sure, honey, go ahead.” Diane watched her daughter leave the room, and then looked at Michael.
“I have to go,” he said. “I’ve got to fly to Toronto tomorrow.”
Diane nodded. “Rach,” she called, “I’m walking Michael out, okay?”
They walked out to his truck, and he got in silently, slamming the door. He started the truck and sat, staring ahead. Diane leaned in through the open window.
“Your daughter is a knockout,” Michael said.
“Yes, she is. Want me to fix you up?”
He chuckled. “She looks exactly like the last three women I went out with.” He glanced at Diane, then looked away. “I think my tastes have changed.”
Diane reached in and very carefully pushed a strand of hair from his forehead.
“How long will you be in Toronto?” She asked.
“I think until Wednesday. I may be writing a score for a movie up there.”
“Oh, wow. What’s the movie?”
“I don’t really know. Do you know somebody named Prescott? He’s a theater guy, I think.”
“Gordon Prescott? I know who he is. He’s supposed to be a genius. How exciting for you.”
“This is a very exciting time. I’ve never done anything quite like this.” His skin looked very white in the darkness, his eyes lost in the shadows of his face.
“I bet. Imagine, a movie.”
“I’m not just talking about the movie,” he said quietly.
Diane chewed her lip. “When will I see you?” She asked softly.
“We could have dinner. Thursday night.”
Diane shook her head. “No. Megan has an awards thing Thursday. Girls’ softball. How about Friday? The girls go with their father on Friday nights.”
“Good. That would be good. What time?”
“They usually get picked up around six, so, what? Six-thirty?”
“Okay. I’ll call you from Toronto.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I could use a little time, I think.”
He nodded. “If you want to talk or anything, my sisters have my cell phone number. Ask one of them, okay?”
“Okay. I will. Have a good trip.” She backed away from the truck as he pulled away. Diane took several deep breaths, then went back into the house.
Rachel was sitting on the couch, drinking orange juice, legs crossed. “Well, he seems very nice,” she said conversationally. “He’s adorable in person. His eyes are incredible. I wonder if he wears, you know, blue contact lenses.”
“He doesn’t,” Diane replied, sinking into the couch. “All his sisters look just like him. The same blue eyes.”
“Met the family, have we?” Rachel tilted her head as she looked at her mother.
Diane met her daughter’s look. “Yes. I had dinner with them.”
“And you met him, when? Two