Page 66 of Impossible Love

He hangs up and tilts his head, studying me. A lock of wet hair curls at his temple. He notices what I’m holding in my arms. Am I holding something? Oh. Right.

I straighten my elbows and offer him the stack of folded terrycloth.

“You’re too sweet.” He shuts the balcony doors behind him. “And you look cute with your hair up in whatever that’s called.” He points to the twisted cotton.

“You mean a towel?”

He tilts his head back and laughs. It’s a deep and warm sound. Somehow, in just the last several days, it’s become my favorite sound in the world.

I can’t be falling for him. That would be impossible. I have a life in San Diego. He’s not my type.

Cal drops his towel. My mouth goes dry, even though he’s pretty much been nonstop naked since we got here last evening. He slips on the robe, ties it at his waist, and shoves his feet in the slippers. “Are we getting mani-pedis or something?”

“Don’t knock it, MacLaine. You’d be surprised how relaxing they are.”

“That’s what Evander says. He loves that shit.”

“He does?”

Cal takes my hand and gently tugs me closer. He reaches up and removes the towel from my head and runs his fingers through the wet strands. “Your hair was one of the first things I noticed about you. Your hair and those stupid shoes.”

He enjoys watching me walk in heels, so this judgment is bullshit and we both know it. “Whatever.”

“I have a confession.”

“Just the one?”

He chuckles. “At first I doubted that red was your natural color. Please forgive me.”

“You are forgiven.” I reach up and lace my fingers behind his neck. As his arms encircle me, I feel his body heat radiate through the thick cotton of both our robes. The man sure is hot-blooded. I don’t mind.

Without my “stupid” heels, it’s a challenge for me to kiss him. But I pop up on my toes, bury my fingers in his hair, and pull him down enough that I’m able to plant one on him. I’m not sure what flavor of kiss I intended. “Playful” maybe. And though the kiss starts out that way, it morphs into something else entirely.

Our lips move slowly, cautiously. We taste and explore one another with care. Still holding me close with one arm around my waist, Cal places his fingers under my chin and tips my face to his. Then he tenderly cradles the back of my head, like I’m some sort of precious cargo.

It’s the sweetest of kisses, sweeter than any I’ve ever had. And there can be no mistake. We’re speaking with one another with this kiss. It’s an assurance that whatever is happening with us has meaning. That’s it’s more than just sex. That if things were different, there might be something special here.

I hear a tiny squeak rise up in my throat. It’s me who breaks the kiss. I slowly lower my heels to the floor.

Cal smiles at me, and the skin around his eyes crinkles. I imagine him at Jamie’s age, silver at his temples but as ruggedly handsome as ever. But I won’t know him when he’s at that stage of life. Realizing that makes me unbelievably sad.

I return his smile, though I feel I’m on the verge of bursting into tears. Maybe I’m shaky from all the sex. My brain is mush. I’ve for sure exceeded the maximum recommended daily dose of earth-shattering orgasms.

“So,” I say, forcing my words to sound chipper. “The voice I heard—that was some kind of ringtone?”

Cal rolls his eyes. “Yeah. It’s a line from a nineties stoner comedy where some dude says, ‘Ooooh! Navy SEALs!’ It started out as a lame private joke, but we decided to use it as the ringtone for incoming calls between brothers, whether it’s one, some, or all of us on a group call.”

“Those group calls must be… interesting.”

Cal shakes his head. “You don’t want to know.”

“So, what did Declan say? What time’s he landing?”

“He’s not.” Cal walks with me to an overstuffed chair and settles me on his lap.

“Why?” I ask as a jolt of fear suddenly goes through me. “Is something wrong? Is Jasmine okay?”

“She’s fine. Everyone’s fine. It’s the weather.”

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