She was gone, Joe realized. The house was beginning to empty of guests, the night was dark but for a sliver of a moon and a billion stars, and the girl he’d had a fix on all day was missing. He looked around the great room, the kitchen, and then, braving rejection, walked down the hall to her room. He tapped lightly on the door, but there was no answer. It was not gentlemanly, but he pushed open the door because he had to find her. She wasn’t there. How’d she get by him? There was no one in the hall bath; the door stood open. He had to at least get her phone number. He felt a trip to the Bay Area coming on.
“Have you seen Nikki?” he asked Vanessa.
“I haven’t. I thought maybe she turned in.”
“Maybe she did,” he lied. “I just wanted to say good-night—I’ll probably be out of here real early in the morning.”
Damn, he wasn’t ready to give up on that one. He hadn’t been drawn to a woman in a while, but this one had hooks in him like grappling. He wasn’t exactly sure why, but it was fierce.
The party was dwindling to just a few people—Rick and Tom and their girls, the bride and groom, the general, Mike and Brie, Shelby. The caterers were packing up and cleaning the kitchen. Joe stepped outside onto the now-dark deck. He took out a cigar, clipped the end, struck a match on his shoe—and it illuminated her. She was standing at the far end of the deck, out of sight, out of the light from within the house, her back to him.
He started to get excited at having found her, feeling a crazy lift in his chest. The match burned down to his fingers and he shook it out with a muffled curse. He took a breath and walked up behind her. “The stars again?” he asked softly.
“Something like that,” she said, her voice teary.
He slipped the cigar back into his shirt pocket and gently grabbed on to her upper arms. “What’s the matter?” he whispered.
“Nothing. I’m fine,” she said. Then she sniffed.
“Nothing? Fine but for the tears?” He gave her arms a squeeze. “Don’t cry, now. I can’t stand it when a woman cries. Wipes me out.”
“Go back inside,” she whispered. “Go on.”
“Can’t,” he said, leaning toward her a little, inhaling her scent. “I’m kind of stuck here now.”
“Just go, okay? This is sort of embarrassing.”
He turned her around slowly. He looked down into those dark, liquid eyes, a trace of tears on each cheek. “All this wedding crap, huh?”
“I don’t want Vanni to think I’m not happy for her.”
“She wouldn’t think that. She’d understand.”
“Someone told you.”
“I asked Paul why a woman as beautiful as you seems sad. Bad breakup, he said. I don’t know the details, but I’m sorry that happened. He’s certifiable, the guy who let you go.” He pressed his lips first against one of those tear tracks, then the one on the other cheek.
“What are you doing?”
“The only thing I can think of is kiss the tears away. I don’t want you to cry anymore, but if you do, I can take care of it.”
“You shouldn’t. We don’t really know each other.”
“You know, I’ve been thinking all day—we should get to know each other better.” He put his hands on her waist. “I’ve been wondering about this all day,” he said. “I can get my hands around your waist.” He lowered his lips to hers, barely touching them. “I think there was a small tear there,” he whispered.
“There wasn’t.”
“There was,” he insisted. He put his lips there again. Barely touching. He ran his tongue along her upper lip. “Tear,” he said. “I’m sure of it.”
Her eyes closed and another tear squeezed out and ran down her cheek. He was right on it, kissing it dry. It took many soft kisses. “No one should make you cry like this. Tell me who he is. I’ll kill him for you.”
“I wasted so much time on him,” she said with a hiccup of emotion.
He kissed her eyes. “He’s a dick,” he said. “Worse. He’s a stupid dick.”
She responded with a small, whimpering laugh.
He pulled her closer, slipped his arms around her and lowered his head to kiss her neck.
“There are no tears there,” she said in a whisper.
“I know that now,” he said. “Do you have any idea how good you smell?”
“Of course. I meant to smell this way,” she said. Her hands were on his arms. Not embracing, but not pushing him away. “Do you do this a lot?”