Passing Through Midnight by Mary Kay Mccomas

Author:Mary Kay Mccomas [Mccomas, Mary Kay]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9780553444858
Publisher: Bantam
Published: 1994-12-01T00:00:00+00:00

If Gil's boyhood ambitions were nothing to feel awkward about, dinner most certainly was.

With the finely honed olfactory organ of the pubes-cent male, Fletcher could smell sex in the air. Or so it seemed to Dorie, who would glance up from her plate to catch him staring at her. It wasn't a resentful stare, or approving either. It was… judicious perhaps, waiting to make a fair and sound judgment dependent on her behavior, more specifically her behavior toward his father.

But what about him? She had a fair idea of the impact Joy had left on Gil. She identified with certain parts of it, having been "discarded" herself. But what about Fletcher? Had he fallen in love with her too? Trusted her? Built dreams around her? Did he feel betrayed or rejected by her? He was old enough to know and remember. Did he feel any responsibility for her actions? Had she damaged his capacity for mother-love or his instincts to bond?

She didn't sense any of that in him. There was unquestionably a certain protectiveness toward his father —with or without his permission to drive, it seemed— and toward Baxter, even if he was a pain in the neck. She glanced briefly at the curly redhead beside her, then back to Fletcher.

No, Fletcher wasn't adding or subtracting. He wasn't awarding her his friendship or withholding it. He was watching and waiting.

Gil, on the other hand, could hardly contain himself. It was most distressing. The soft, sensuous skimming of skin as the food was passed. The sudden touching of knees under the table. The gentle, almost nervous little smiles. The smoldering glances through a fringe of dark lashes… or was she doing all the smoldering? Was she reading too much into a casual touch, a passing glance? Could anyone else see the electrical sparks arcing and snapping between them, or was it only her?

She lost pathetically to Fletcher when he challenged her to a game of pool after supper. When Gil tried to give her a few pointers in a hopelessly well-matched game with Baxter, she thought she'd go out of her mind with his body leaning over hers, his hands instructing her fingers, his breath on her cheek, the reverberation of his voice in her ear.

She felt like the flag on a rope in a game of tug-of-war. Back and forth. Back and forth. Nervous, trying to stay calm. Excited, trying not to read too much into it. Eager, trying to take it in her stride. Afraid, trying to be brave. Timorous, trying to be proud and bold.

Taking her leave that night was more like an escape. Matthew and the boys were sprawled in front of the TV while Gil walked her out to the car.

In silence.

Her heart was racing and she felt her limp was pronounced and cumbersome even though she was easily keeping up with his long, unhurried stride. She was pensive, and her mouth was dry. She wished for something composed and sophisticated to say.

"Well…"

"So…" they started together, then laughed selfconsciously.

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