Listen to Your Heart - Fern Michaels [54]
Paul closed his eyes. His heart told him to go to Lafayette in the morning. His head said wait until the weekend. Maybe Josie Dupré would go with him. Women knew about things like this. Her presence might convince his niece to return with him. He certainly didn’t want to scare his niece in any way. Women were so protective of their children. Yes, the weekend was the best solution. He certainly didn’t want to leave his new firm the first day on the job. Jack wouldn’t mind, but he still wasn’t going to do it. Besides, he needed a few days to think it through, to plan, to hug this news to his chest. After all this time, after all the near misses, the long months and years of searching. His mother was going to be so happy. He could see her face now. Peter. Strong name. Peter Brouillette. Little Pete. Petey. And a speckled dog. A whole little family. He would be Uncle Paul. He felt his chest puff out.
Paul looked at the kitchen clock. Time to shower and shave. He should probably make a dinner reservation somewhere. He stopped in his tracks when he remembered Jack’s words: Ask her to cook something for you. Eggs would be good. He liked eggs at any time of the day. He wouldn’t have to get dressed up. Jeans and loafers. Zip would be all over him; dog hairs would settle. Yeah, yeah, jeans and loafers. Tomorrow he could take Josie someplace special. She wouldn’t mind. That was one of the things he really liked about her. She was agreeable. And nice. Real nice. Really, really nice. And he liked her. Liked her a lot. He really did. If things worked out right tonight, he would tell her just how much. Damn! Life was looking so good he crossed his fingers that nothing would go wrong.
Showered, shaved, hair combed, and dressed in jeans, a Gap T-shirt and loafers, he was ready to go with forty minutes to spare. He settled himself in the recliner and clicked on the television. He watched as Vanna White turned the letters. He closed his eyes and was asleep in seconds.
Paul bolted out of the recliner when he heard his mother’s grandfather clock in the foyer chime eleven times. He looked at his watch in horror. “Shit!” he said succinctly.
He slammed through the house and galloped down the street, around the corner and up the Dupré driveway. He leaped over the picket fence like he’d been doing it for years. There she was, sitting on the back steps under the porch light and she looked, as Jack would say, pissed.
“Ah, Josie. Hey, it’s me, Paul.”
“Ah, Paul. Hey, it’s me, Josie.”
“Look, I’m sorry . . .”
“Save your sorry excuses for someone who cares. Did we or did we not have a date for eight o’clock?”
“Yes, we did, but you see . . .”
Josie stood up. “Do you see this dress? At seven-thirty it was wrinkle-free. It’s now eleven-fifteen and it looks like a dishrag. I spent all last night ironing it. It took me hours. It takes a long time to iron linen. I’ve had it with you, Mr. Brouillette. Take your damn dog and go home. Don’t call me again and don’t bring your dog here either. You know what you can do. You can just kiss my . . . my . . .”
“Your what?” Paul drawled. He was so close he could smell her breath and the other delicious scents emanating from her body. He leaned even closer and lowered his head. In the whole of his life he had never experienced such gentle passion. His knees turned to rubber and he held on to her. When she gasped, he drank in air and kissed her again. When his legs gave out, he lowered her to the step without unlocking his lips from hers. When he finally came up for air, he was the one who gasped.
“Oh, do that again.”
“I can’t. I feel like Gumby. Lady, you are one wild kisser.”
“I know,” Josie said sweetly. “What’s your excuse? I also want to know why you dumped your dog on me.”
“It’s a very long story. I mean it’s really long. I’m hungry. Do you think you could