“How about some music?” he asked, digging into her purse for her smartphone.
Pulling up her playlist, he walked over to the docking station he’d seen in the kitchen and plugged in the phone. Pink’s edgy music poured out, and Natalie’s body immediately started to dance.
“Good choice,” she crooned. “Come dance with me and Touchdown.”
How many times had they danced like this? Usually, he could unwind enough to join her. Tonight, his muscles were tight and uncoordinated. As soon as he came over to her, she placed her hands on his chest, her touch driving him wild.
“What’s the matter, honey? Tough day?”
Her concern was a harbinger of old times. Oh, how he wanted things to be like this again. But not when she wasn’t herself.
“Yeah, it’s been a tough week, and I’m tired. How about you dance? I’ll make you something to eat.”
It wouldn’t be too long before she got the munchies anyway. God knew she’d need something to soak up all that tequila. He dug into her refrigerator, going with a grilled cheese with an over-easy egg in the middle—one of her favorite hangover cures. After pulling the ingredients out and walking over to the counter, he glanced over at her.
All the air arrested in his lungs, and his whole body locked in place.
Somewhere in the middle of the kitchen she’d lost her T-shirt and jeans and was now dancing in her bra and panties to Pink’s “So What?” Her taste in lingerie had never sucked, and his mouth went dry at the sight of her white bra wrapped in black lace. Touchdown was doing circles around her, and it would have been funny, if he hadn’t turned hard as hell in three seconds.
Her body was the same breathtaking combination of strength and sexiness it had always been. Smooth lithe skin flowed under the lights in the den. Her hips shimmied in a way that had his own pelvis twitching. And her arms… Well they wove through the air with all the erotic, fluid appeal of a belly dancer.
He dropped the ingredients on the counter with a thud as his pulse hammered in his neck. The egg cracked, the liquid leaking across the counter. He was so enthralled by the sight of her dancing, he didn’t even reach to clean it up.
She was so in her own thrall, her eyes were closed. The tequila was taking her to a new dimension, he knew. She was humming along with the music.
God, he’d missed her. Missed her like this.
Tearing his gaze away from her body was harder than facing down the player who’d delivered a dirty hit on him and popped his shoulder out of the socket. He started breathing deep, hoping to corral his thoughts. But his normal ability to focus was limited around her.
Forcing himself to clean up the mess from the cracked egg, he then moved on to make the grilled cheese. When it was piping hot, he scooped it onto a plate. He couldn’t take seeing all her tantalizing flesh, so he detoured through the house to her bedroom to locate her favorite nightshirt. She usually slept nude—like he did—but they’d always kept PJs for visits to family. Her cedar chest lay at the foot of her bed, just like it had during their marriage. He’d sent it to her because he hadn’t felt right about keeping her hope chest.
If he were honest, he’d also hoped returning a few keepsakes to her would help remind her of all they’d had. He opened it with shaking hands. The nightshirt was folded on top, but sitting just under it was something he hadn’t expected.
Her wedding dress was still wrapped in the plastic sleeve at the bottom. He fell to his knees. God, he’d assumed she would have gotten rid of it. She’d been so insistent about wanting nothing from their home, their marriage. Nothing that would remind her of him.
Unable to control himself this time, he lifted the dress out. It smelled like the perfume she’d worn that day. The hints of jasmine and vanilla brought back memories of the secret smile she’d given him as she walked down the aisle. Oh, God.
He held the dress against his chest, his eyes burning now. At the bottom of the chest was their favorite wedding picture, the one he’d added to the chest before sending it over.