against the nearest wall with her hands buried in his hair and his fingers slipping open the buttons she’d done up so hastily to answer Anneliese’s knock. “No time,” she murmured, but it still ended up being more like twenty minutes before she was upstairs in the kitchen with hastily combed hair, peeking out the front window to see Tony duck out of the darkroom.
I wouldn’t mind having you for an autumn lover as well as a summer lover, Jordan thought, watching that lean form jog up the street as behind her Anneliese poured out iced tea. This wasn’t like her times with Garrett, when it had been a little awkward if enjoyable, and there had been the feeling of being funneled inexorably toward the altar with every kiss. This was something looser and better fitting. They weren’t going steady, they weren’t pinned, they weren’t making it official—they were just lovers, work and play and passion and friendship blending together into something so very easy.
“You have stars in your eyes.” Anneliese handed her a cold glass, fending off Taro, whose tail was still lashing in delight at the lady of the house’s return. “Who’s put that glow in your cheeks?”
A man who makes my toes curl, Jordan thought, who makes me laugh, who even helps me work better. And maybe it will only be a summer fling and he’ll lose interest when I go away, or maybe I’ll be the one to move on. But right now . . . Jordan buried her smile in the iced tea. Possibly some nosy neighbor would tell Anneliese about a young man seen leaving the basement, but Jordan knew her stepmother wouldn’t launch an inquisition. “What did you buy at the auctions?”
“Nothing,” Anneliese said ruefully. “Not a thing. Your father made it look so easy; one look at a Queen Anne highboy and he just knew if it was a reproduction or an original, or if the restoration was good work or shoddy. It was foolish to think I had picked up enough to match him. I’ll just have to let that go to someone more knowledgeable.”
“At least you had a vacation.” Jordan folded her hands around her glass. “And your week in Concord?”
Anneliese’s face softened. “Your father was right there with me, I could have sworn. I even had the same room we had on our honeymoon. How have you and Ruth been?” Jordan filled her in, omitting for now the details of darkroom lovers and music lessons. “My photo-essay is almost done too. I have fourteen prints; I want fifteen.”
“Then you should start thinking about a place to live in New York. I did a little apartment hunting while I was there. We can’t have you sleeping in some flea-riddled bedroom with a toilet down the hall.”
“It’s still a bit soon to be apartment hunting.”
“Why? Your project is almost done; what better time to look for work? And you did say you wanted to move in the fall. You’ll need a chic suit for interviews—I found the perfect Butterick pattern . . .”
“I was going to wait till Ruth was settled back in school. It’s going to be hard for her.”
“Nonsense, she’ll still have me and her friends and her dog. She shouldn’t be the one holding you back. Unless”—Anneliese shot Jordan a shrewd, humorous look—“you have some other reason?”
Jordan laughed. “There is no getting anything by that sixth sense of yours, is there?” She should have known Anneliese was far too sharp not to discern the real reason for flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes.
“He must be quite something.” Anneliese drew a fingertip around her glass. “But I’d hate to see you changing your plans for some young man, however special.”
“He won’t stop me leaving.” However lovely things were with Tony, Jordan wasn’t putting off a chance for work, real work. She wouldn’t put that off for anyone . . . except one person. “I can’t leave until Ruth’s used to the idea, though. I just can’t.”
“Now, I really won’t allow this,” Anneliese scolded. “Let’s set a date, Jordan. The date your new life begins; the day you go and start leading it. I don’t want to let anything stand in your way.”
“My way or your way?” Jordan smiled, joking. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get rid of me!”
Anneliese’s smile slipped for just a fraction of a second, showing a different expression, and in Jordan’s lap, her camera finger twitched. Click.