"Rain check?" she asked, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
"Definitely," Terry replied, meaning it. "Sandra, I need to ask you something."
"Okay."
Terry ran his hand through his hair, suddenly nervous despite everything they'd just shared. "How do you feel about meeting Emma and Toby?"
Her eyes widened slightly. "I'd love to meet them. Whenever you're ready to take that step."
"That's just it. I don't know when I'll be ready," Terry admitted. "I've never introduced them to anyone I've dated. Hell, I haven't really dated anyone seriously enough for introductions."
"What's different now?" Her question came out soft and gentle.
Studying her face, he spied patience and understanding where he'd feared pressure or judgment. "You are. This is. I'venever felt like this about anyone, Sandra, and that terrifies me because if this doesn't work out..."
"Hey." She moved closer, her hands framing his face. "We don't have to figure everything out today. When you're ready, we'll figure it out together."
Her simple acceptance made his chest tight with emotion he couldn’t name. "I haven't told them about you yet," he confessed.
"I didn't expect you had. This is all new, Terry. We're still finding our way."
"I knowwhatwe are," he said quietly. "The question is whether you're ready for what that means."
Sandra's smile was radiant. "Try me."
A week later, Terry called her from his office, anticipation making his pulse race. "The kids are going to Patricia's this weekend. Friday night through Sunday afternoon."
"That's nice," she murmured, though he could hear the question in her voice. "I'm sure they're excited to see their mom."
"They are. But Sandra..." He paused, suddenly feeling like a teenager asking for his first sleepover. "I was hoping you might want to spend the weekend with me. The whole weekend."
The silence stretched long enough to make him wonder if he'd overstepped or pushed too hard, too fast.
"Terry," Sandra said finally, her voice soft with something that might have been relief. "I thought you'd never ask."
"Is that a yes?"
"That's absolutely a yes. Your place or mine?"
"Mine," he answered immediately. "I want you in my bed. I want to wake up next to you and not have to worry about leaving early or keeping quiet or any of the other complications we've been dancing around."
Sandra's breath caught audibly. "You're very direct when you want something, Captain."
"I want you," he said simply. "More than I've wanted anything in a very long time."
"Then you'll have me." Her voice carried a promise that made his pulse race. "The whole weekend."
As he hung up, he felt excitement building in his chest that had nothing to do with just the physical aspect of their relationship. For the first time since his divorce, he was going to wake up next to a woman he was falling in love with, in his own bed, without the carefully managed complications of his daily life intruding.
The weekend couldn't come fast enough.
6
Sandra sank into the plush mattress after the covers were jerked back, her body melting against the expensive memory foam. Terry's bed put her own to shame, and that was saying something. She believed an excellent mattress made for a good night’s sleep and a happier back. But his mattress was beyond excellent. Or maybe it was because her eyes were filled with him.
She'd caught glimpses of his bedroom as he'd carried her here, her legs wrapped around his waist, their mouths fused in desperate hunger. Pale gray walls. Navy-and-charcoal bedding that matched the curtains and area rug perfectly. Orderly space for an orderly man.
The room smelled like pure temptation, a mixture of clean soap, subtle cologne that didn't assault her senses, and underneath it all, the intoxicating scent that was just Terry.
