A Different Kind of Forever - By Dee Ernst Page 0,38

splashed cold water on her face and smoothed back her hair.

The bedroom was empty. She picked up her dress and pulled it over her naked body.

He was in the kitchen. She watched him taking out eggs and cheese from the refrigerator. She crossed her arms over her breasts.

“If you can cook,” she said seriously, “I may have to propose.”

He threw her a smile. “I can make a great marinade for cooking anything out on a grill, and I make mashed potatoes that will take a year off your life from too much butter and cream. I also make perfect omelets. Cheese? Or would you prefer mushroom? You have a great kitchen. You must be serious about food.”

“Yes, we’re pretty serious about food around here. I have some ham. We could run a few slices under the broiler.”

“Fantastic. Is that sourdough from Jimmy’s up there? Great bread, just great.”

He was standing in front of her stove, barefoot, jeans riding low, his shirt still open. She came up behind him and put her arms around his waist, looking over his shoulder. His movements were quick and efficient. He was cracking eggs into a large bowl, one-handed. She watched him for a minute, enjoying the feel of her hands on his skin, the play of the muscles in his back against her breasts.

“I’ll set the table,” she said. He nodded, and gave her a quick kiss before she stepped away from him.

She carried dishes into the dining room, set out cloth napkins from the sideboard. The table was a long oak farm table, the wood golden and softly gleaming. In the center of the table were a cluster of candles, each on a different candlestick, brass, copper, pewter. Diane collected them, one from each of the dozen countries she had visited. She lit them carefully, and the room bloomed with soft light. She went to change the music, a jazz station, and then closed the drapes of her living room window against the darkness.

The meal was wonderful. She ate slowly, listening to him as he spoke, laughing with him. After they cleared the table, she brought a bowl of grapes into the living room, and they drank cold white wine and sat on opposite ends of the coach, facing each other, backs propped against the arms of the couch, feet and legs intertwined. She talked about her marriage, the girls. He talked about the movie, about being a celebrity. She refilled the wine glasses and lit more candles. He watched her as she moved about the room, his body relaxed, and his eyes bright and intense.

“Would you like to go sailing tomorrow?” he asked her as she settled back into her corner.

“Sailing? You have a boat?”

“Yeah, a small one. It’s fantastic - like flying.”

“I bet. I’d love to go with you. Where?”

“We’ll go to my place. Mendham.”

“There’s a lake in Mendham? I never knew that.” She was surprised. She had been there often, antiquing. It was a small, wealthy community surrounded by woods and horse farms.

“Well, there’s a lake where I live.” He looked sheepish.

“You own a lake?” She asked carefully.

“Well, kind of. My neighbors and I do. There are four of us.”

“Wow. Your own personal lake.” She ate a fistful of grapes slowly.

“I didn’t make any money until the second CD,” Michael explained. “My Dad took one look at the check I got when it went platinum and told me it was time to move out of his house. I was twenty-one. A friend of his, a judge, was selling his place. My father and I drove out to Mendham and bought it. The house was a mess, so I knocked it down. Nick found an architect for me. We’d been to Japan on the first tour, and the buildings blew me away. So I had a house built, and a dock, and bought a boat ‘cause I always wanted to sail.”

“Who takes care of everything while you’re on the road?”

“I have a guy, named Fred Chu. He was an old client of my father’s. Immigration problems, I think. He looks after the house, feeds Max, and organizes all the other guys.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Other guys?”

“Well, there’s a guy for the yard, a guy who cleans the house, a guy who looks after the cars, a pool guy, and a boat guy.” She had started to laugh, and he was shaking his head, laughing with her.

“I know, it sounds ridiculous. I mean, it’s just me and the dog, right?”

“Man, being a

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