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"That we're dancing," he said, hopping over a branch that had separated from the others, but not stopping as he waltzed her toward the door. ''And who gives a damn what anyone thinks? We're having fun. You need a prescription for fun, and I'm writing out the orders."
Abigail laughed as they continued dancing to the very step that would take her inside the house.
Leif halted, looking at the woman whose cheeks were now pink from exertion. He felt a strange tenderness flood him. Because everything that had happened in the past minute verified his conclusion about Abigail. She needed help. She needed romance and spontaneity. She needed laughter and silliness. "Let's get these gloves off you. It will be hard to shower with them on."
She watched as he unbuttoned the right glove, peeling the leather from her hand. He did it slowly, almost sensuously, dropping a small kiss on her wrist before unfurling her palm and grazing it with his lips. He performed the same on the left hand. When he glanced up, her eyes were filled with a mixture of disbelief and desire.
For several seconds she said nothing. Just stared at him.
"Okay, off you go. The shower awaits."
She glanced at the patio. "But what about the roses? They're half-done and debris is scattered all over."
He turned and surveyed the mess. "The other roses can wait, and I'll take these gloves and deal with those stacks. You shower and-" he ducked his head, brushing a soft kiss against her lips "-don't bother with makeup. I like you just the way God made you. Beautiful. But if you want to wear makeup, you can. I just want you to know you don’t need it.”
She sucked in her breath. "ls your vision working?"
"Wait," he said, squinting his eyes, moving his head closer and then away. "You're not Karen Franklin. I'm... Oh, my gosh, I'm so sorry. I got the wrong woman."
Abigail punched him in the shoulder.
Leif laughed. "Seriously, go shower. I have a fun night planned for us."
"Fun?"
"Baby oil and twister."
Her laughter was sweet reward. "Oh, my Lord. You could talk me into anything."
''That's what I'm banking on."
ABIGAIL DRIEDHER hair with a round brush, begging the Louisiana humidity to lay off for this one night. Her skin glistened from the shower, her eyes sparkled, and her thumb harbored a small thorn she couldn't quite dig out.
But who cared?
She was going on a date with Leif.
Inside she thrilled at the thought, relieved she'd tossed away her reservations. Last night she'd flipped on the TV and caught a reality show about forty something-year-old women relaunching themselves into the dating scene and it had killed the bolstering Shelby had delivered. She'd left Leif a halfhearted message on his voice mail.
But Shelby was right-Abigail needed to stop thinking and start living on the edge a little more. And the man waiting downstairs made her feel not so much herself.
Or maybe more like herself, like the girl she used to be. Maybe in the face of dealing with Cal's renewed interest and Birdie's impudence she needed to remember the girl who'd taken chances, banked on her dreams, and didn't let anyone put her in a box...or a corner.
"What were you so worried about?" she asked her reflection, switching off the dryer. When her reflection didn't respond, she grinned at being so silly. And that felt good. Surprisingly good.
Monday nights weren't for dates. They were for organizing the kitchen junk drawer, getting caught upon the ironing, or watching a rerun of some police procedural. It was a very odd night to be gussying herself up and taking time for herself. But Monday felt right. Leif wasn't an ordinary guy.
Despite Leif’s no-makeup request, she dabbed a bit of concealer under her eyes and powdered her nose, rubbing a bit of rouge on her cheekbones and swiping her mouth with a light lip gloss. Still very natural, but it hid some of her flaws.
Abigail dropped her towel and eyed her nude body in the half mirror. Not bad. Not good, but not bad. Her breasts weren't as full, but they'd not been tackled by gravity. Her stomach bore a thin C-section scar and her hips and legs were still firm and varicose vein- free. She picked up her favorite perfume and misted her body with it before tugging on her prettiest bra and panties, ones she'd gotten on a trip to New Orleans with her sister-in-law, Mary Jane. It had been a wasted purchase until now.
Wait.
Just because she wore Belgian lace didn't mean she was going to sleep with Leif.
Her cell phone buzzed on the nightstand. Scooping it up, she hit the answer button.
"Hey, Mom. Dad and I are on our way home. Since I finished my homework early, we're going to watch Netflix. We're getting candy and stuff at the Short Stop. What do you want?" Birdie sounded happy. Not like the sullen girl who'd slunk away rom the kitchen table Friday night after embarrassing Abigail in front of her brother.
