Beguiled Again: A Romantic Comedy by Patricia Burroughs Page A

didn’t. And when his lips hesitated a mere breath away from hers, and she knew what was coming, and even knew that she wanted it, she could have, should have at least closed her eyes and waited.
    But she didn’t.
    Instead she closed the gap and touched her lips to his. She’d waited seventeen years for this kiss, and she’d be damned if she was going to turn away from it now.
    At first they were joined only by that basic union, her lips soft and tentative, his cautious and exploring. After a moment’s gentle awakening, they melted together inch by inch, until she couldn’t tell where she stopped and he began as her curves yielded to his hard angles.
    Her lips parted and she felt the warm velvet sweep of his tongue tracing her lips with growing intensity, the chocolate and raspberry flavors blending ever so sweetly. She shivered at the delicious sensations his gently probing kiss brought to life. Everything was happening so slowly, so deliberately, it seemed an eternity before her raspberry cone dropped onto the porch with a plop, followed by its chocolate counterpart.
    Her hand sought his thick, wavy hair, and she pulled his head firmly to hers, shuddering as she felt his fingers inching down her body in exploration. Finally his hands rested on her waist. His thumbs slid the soft cotton fabric against her ribcage, circling ever upward until they were brushing the lower curves of her breasts with a tantalizing, erotic rhythm. She moaned softly into his mouth, pulling slightly away from his body to allow his hands more freedom to move. She gasped when his thumbs found the hard imprint of her nipples, felt a heat spreading when his low groan revealed his response was as great as her own.
    Sensations assaulted her one after another, his taste on her lips, the faint smell of his cologne, the sound of his shirt rasping against her dress, the feel of his hands cupping her softness, then kneading in slow, deliberate movements.
    Oh, yes, this was something she could get used to very quickly.
    He chose that moment to pull away.
    She took three deep, agonizingly slow breaths, before she muttered a raspy, “Oh, my.”
    Even Jeff sounded a little strained as he rested his head against the creaking chain. "'Oh, my?’ Is that the best you can do?”
    “I... I just can’t help remembering...”
    ” Remembering what? ”
    “How I yearned, how I plotted, how I fantasized about kissing you.” She turned a startled face to him. “Good grief, I don’t think I would have survived it at fourteen!”
    His voice amused, Jeff said, “And to think I ran from it.” He placed a finger under her chin and tilted her face up to his. Even in the darkness, she felt the intensity of his gaze boring into her. “I wonder now, what would you have done with me if you had caught me?”
    “Oh, Lord,” she whispered.
    “I know exactly what I’d do with you if I caught—”
    “No, you don’t!” She pushed at his chest. “You can just forget that right now. I don’t have time for, for whatever this is. I’m a mother—”
    “I know.”
    “With children and responsibilities—”
    “I noticed.”
    “And I’ve changed. So let’s forget this ever happened.”  
    He refused to answer, only smiled that slow smile she had to steel herself against.
    She struck his chest for emphasis. “Do you hear me?”  
    His mouth sought hers once again, but she twisted away. “I’m not fourteen now, and I’m not chasing you. What’s more, I’m not interested in being chased, or seduced, or whatever you want to call it.”
    “You sure talk a lot, kid,” he murmured, finally letting her go. And then added with a wicked grin, “I’m beginning to see exactly how much fun chasing can be.”
    Cecilia leaped to her feet. The swing careened wildly as he stood, as well. “I mean it, Jefferson Smith! I’m going to go into the house, put my children to bed and forget that you made a pass at me. I’m not interested! Is that clear?” She strode to the