Afterward, his head felt too heavy to hold up, and Michael dropped his skull against the padded back of the seat. His heart was thudding wildly in his chest. Beside him, Winter sat up and settled back in her seat. She wiped the sleeve of her sweater over her lips. Michael groped for her hand and entwined his fingers with hers. He tried twice before he found his voice. “I don’t remember making out in high school being that good.” Her breathy laugh tickled his cheek.
The screen action was still hot-paced. Michael and Winter slumped against each other, shoulder to shoulder. They rested without feeling the need to talk. Heartbeats steadied, and their bodies gradually cooled. Before the movie credits finished rolling, they adjusted their clothes. Winter slipped on a quilted jacket over her sweater. Michael carefully eased up his zipper, mindful not to catch tender flesh.
Michael turned his head to look at the incredible woman sitting beside him. He lifted his hand and gently pushed an errant curl behind her ear. She smiled at him, a little wickedly, and his heart did a queer flip-flop.
When the lights came back on, he offered his hand to her and helped her to her feet. They made their way out of the aisle and walked down the carpeted steps, trailing behind the other moviegoers. Walking hand in hand, appearing the very picture of a committed couple, Winter and Michael left the movie theater.
When they emerged into the chilly night, Michael placed his arm over her shoulders. He liked the warmth of her body where she was tucked against him. He breathed in her feminine scent, mingled with the muskiness of his own. He was relaxed and content in the moment. “Where are you parked? I’ll walk you to your car.”
“It’s over there, under the light.”
They walked through the almost-deserted parking lot to the Lexus. Winter pressed the lock and opened the door. Before she could slide in, Michael drew her up tight against him, closing his arms around her back. She slid her own arms under his coat, around his waist. He closed his eyes, reveling in her pliant warmth. His heart thudded solidly. He could almost make himself believe that he cared for her.
He held her for several seconds. Then he sighed, pressed his lips to her forehead, and released her. His voice was unusually husky even to his own ears. “Goodnight, Winter.”
She glanced up into his face, apparently wondering at his unusual show of affection. The streetlight was above and behind him, so that his face was in shadow. She could not possibly read anything in his expression. It didn’t really matter, he told himself. There was nothing for her to see.
“Goodnight, Michael.”
Michael let Winter turn away and waited while she got into the Lexus. He closed the door for her and stepped back. She gave a small wave as she started the vehicle and put it into gear.
Michael watched as she backed out of the space and drove off before he walked away toward his own vehicle. His mind whirled. His whole being still tingled from the erotic rendezvous with Winter. He was still grappling with the unexpected feeling of tenderness. All he knew for sure was that he had changed his mind. He wasn’t going to let her go. Caught up in sensual memory, he barely registered a faint alarm pinging somewhere, and it wasn’t the alarm on his Porsche.
Cathy met with the oncologist very early the following morning. Against all of her hopes to the contrary, she was told that Chloe wouldn’t be going back home with her any time soon.
“This cough continues to worry me. I don’t know what is causing it.” Dr. Richards frowned over his thoughts. “I want to run some more tests and keep a closer eye on her.”
Cathy nodded and swallowed past the tightness in her throat. The time that she and Chloe had been able to be together, just the two of them, had been very precious but all too brief. She comforted herself with the fact that the hematopoietic stem cell transplantation still continued to look good. It was the first thing she had asked about, and the oncologist had reassured her on that point.