An Evening at Joe's by Gillian Horvath

Author:Gillian Horvath [Horvath, Gillian]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

In Adam's absence, Alexa had taken to eating in her room rather than endure the constant chore of dining out alone. Juggling her daily parcels of fabulous local bread and cheeses, new film for the camera, and the English-language newspaper, Alexa dug out her key and unlocked the door.

And stopped in the doorway as she heard his voice. "Thanks for the lead, Joe, you were right about that sword. And about Rachel." He was standing by the window, looking out at the square, phone pressed to his ear. "And do me a favor... next time MacLeod's in trouble, remind me to take a sword and a gun."

She was barely listening to the words, beyond registering a passing astonishment at the name. Joe's friend Duncan MacLeod had never seemed like a man who would need help from anyone, much less from Adam. But it didn't matter, none of it mattered, save he was safe and whole. And here.

She must have made a sound, because he turned in the window and saw her standing in the doorway and smiled at her somewhat sheepishly, waggled the fingers of one hand in a weak wave.

She kicked the door shut behind her, dropped her coat and packages, moved to him, took the telephone from him. "Hi Joe, bye Joe," was all she said before putting the receiver on the cradle. She was peeling off Adam's big wool coat before he even finished lowering the hand that had held the phone. She went up on tiptoe to press her mouth to his, then moved downward, along the muscle that ran from jaw to sternum, tracing a finger ahead of her tongue, and continuing down past the collarbone, unbuttoning his shirt as she went.

"Hello..." he said, surprised but by no means displeased.

"Hello yourself," she breathed back, wrapping her arms around him and pulling his shirt free of the top of his brick-colored jeans, slipping her hands up under the loosened cotton to stroke the skin along his spine. She felt him come alive against her as she explored, his breath catching when her mouth reached the tiny hollow where ribcage met abdomen.

He struggled to keep his voice light. "So you missed me?" She smiled into his chest, tickling it, and felt the half-laugh vibrate his diaphragm. She stopped her careful ministrations to look up at him seriously. "I thought about you a lot. I thought about what you've done for me."

"It's not like that, Alexa." Cupping her chin, tilting her head back, holding her gaze—needing her to understand. "You're not a charity project, believe me." '

"All the same." She caught a hand in one of his front beltloops, pulled him gently forward, backing toward the bed. She turned with him in her arms, urging him back onto the bed until he was lying under her, his unbuttoned shirt awry, his hands clasped on her waist as she sat across him, her flowered skirt spread over his thighs and stomach, her legs under it clasped around his hips. "Now I want to do something for you.

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