Page 35 of The Playboy and the Widow
“Good.”
“But, Cliff, I can’t. I...”
“Come on, honey, don’t argue with me. We’re mature adults—we both know what we want—so what’s stopping you?”
“Cliff, you don’t understand.”
He closed his eyes and groaned. “Somehow I knew that you were going to say that.”
“Joan and Katie are up there.”
“They’re asleep, for heaven’s sake.” He could argue with her if she were being reasonable, but he was defenseless against such logic. “They won’t even know.”
“I’ll know.”
His hold on her torso tightened as he buried his face in the smooth silk of her skin. He drew in a ragged breath as the battle between his conscience and his raw need raged within him. Without too much trouble, he knew he could change her mind. She wanted him nearly as much as he craved her, and all it would take to convince her of that was a few more uninterrupted minutes. He released an anguished sigh when his conscience won. There would be another chance, another place, and the next time it would be right.
“Are you angry?” Diana asked.
He thought about it a moment, then shook his head. “No.”
“I feel like I’ve been a terrible tease.”
“Then tease me anytime you want,” he managed on the tail-end of a sigh. “Now,” he said, easing her off his lap, “walk me to the door and kiss me good-night while I still have the power to leave you.”
She rose unsteadily. The carpet under her feet seemed to buckle and sway beneath her.
Cliff held out his hand to steady her. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted with a half smile. She didn’t know if she’d ever be the same again. Every part of her was throbbing with need, and yet all she could taste was frustration and regret.
He wrapped his arm around her and let her walk him to the front door. Their kiss was ardent, but brief. His arms continued to hold her. “Saturday night,” he reminded her. “I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.”
It was all Diana could do to nod.
She remained leaning against the door frame long after Cliff had left. A strange chill rattled her as she realized how close she had come to walking up the stairs and making love with Cliff. It was then that she realized there was no real commitment between them, not even whispered words of love, only the pure physical response of a lonely widow to an exceptionally handsome man. Diana gripped her stomach as a wave of nausea passed over her. She felt ill and frightened.
Somehow she made it up the stairs and into bed, but that didn’t guarantee sleep. Over and over again she thought about what had nearly happened with Cliff. No doubt women regularly fell into bed with him. Diana couldn’t blame them; he would be a wonderful lover. Gentle and considerate. Even now, hours after he’d left, her body tingled from the memory of his touch.
She wanted him, but the situation was impossible. Her life was filled with responsibilities now. She wasn’t carefree and single—she was a mother.
After twenty more minutes of tossing and turning, Diana glanced at the clock. Life wasn’t simple for her anymore. Not with two daughters who watched her every move. When she’d been dating Stan, there’d been no real thought to the future. It had all been so easy. They were in love, so they got married. Diana was burdened with obligations now on all sides. Ones she willingly accepted.
For two days, she agonized over what she was going to say to Cliff. She wanted to set the record straight, explain that what had nearly happened wasn’t right for her. She couldn’t deny that she desired him; he’d see through that fast enough.
When Cliff arrived promptly at six-thirty to pick her up on Saturday night, she kissed the girls goodbye and stiffly followed Cliff to his car. Although he’d told her they were going to dinner, he hadn’t said where.
“You look as jumpy as a pogo stick,” he said once they were seated inside his Lamborghini. He was dying to kiss her. Already he ached with the need to hold her in his arms and taste her kisses.
“I... we need to talk.”
Cliff placed the key in the ignition, then leaned over to gently brush his mouth over hers. “Can’t it wait until dinner?”
Diana shook her head. “I don’t think so. It’s about what nearly happened the other night.”
“Somehow I thought you’d bring that up.” His hands tightened around the steering wheel. He’d gone too fast for her, but she’d amazed him with how ready and eager she was. It hadn’t been right for them Thursday, but it would be tonight—he’d make certain of that.
“I’m not ready for... it.” Her face flushed with embarrassment. She’d never talked to a man this way, not even with Stan.
