Between Midnight and Morning by Cindy Gerard

Author:Cindy Gerard
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Silhouette
Published: 2005-10-01T04:00:00+00:00

“It’s going well, huh?”

Ali frowned at Peg, then cast an overt glance toward John where he and Cutter and Lee Savage were standing together over a barbecue grilling steaks and doing what men did best, laughing and giving each other a hard time.

“Define well.”

Peg laughed and handed her a stack of plates loaded with silverware. “You’re doing fine. Set the table. It’ll give you something to do with your hands other than wring them.”

Ali was on a date. A date, for heaven’s sake. Well, not a date date, at least not technically, but it didn’t change the fact that she was here and John was here and she’d agreed to come to this get-together at Peg and Cutter’s knowing full well the motive for it.

“It’ll be perfect,” Peg had insisted when she’d called and cooked this up. “It’ll be you and John, Cutter and me and we’ll ask Lee and Ellie Savage over, too. Friday night. We’ll have a cookout. Just a bunch of friends getting together. It’ll give you a chance to get to know him better.”

“I don’t want to get to know him,” Ali had said grimly. “I just want to jump his bones.”

Peg’s laugh was big and surprised. “Well, I’ll say this for you, girl. When you decide to turn over a new leaf, you do it in a big way.”

“That was a joke.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

Sadly, Peg had been right—even though Ali was hard pressed to admit it in her more sane moments. Agreeing to this event hadn’t been one of them, she thought now, as she distributed tableware around the picnic table and tried to keep from looking at John. Second thoughts had moved in and paid rent the moment she’d made the decision to harken to the call of her hormones, so to speak.

And now, here she was. Harkening.

It was exhausting.

She hadn’t paid this much attention to her hair and makeup in ages. And she hadn’t felt this nervous in decades. Probably since junior high—which was laughable appropriate since more and more often lately she felt like she was functioning with the mentality of a teenager.

She glanced at the men again—and stopped breathing when she realized John was watching her. His expression was sober, his gaze assessing and intent. And when his brown eyes, as warm as melted chocolate, locked on hers and one corner of his incredible mouth tilted up in a private, intimate smile, her heart went haywire.

She was not a strong swimmer and as she looked away from his July-hot gaze, busying herself with rearranging plates on the picnic table, she had a vivid mental image of herself drifting toward deep water and sinking fast.

Oh, God. What had she been thinking?

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