Page 66 of Plane Passion

Grabbing his lapels, she pulled him against her. His lips met hers, and everything else dropped away. There was nothing but this kiss, the feel of his body against hers. His warmth. His scent.

He drove her to distraction. His lips and tongue answered hers in a desperate dance.

Throwing caution to the wind, she took his hand and moved it to her breast. He moaned into her mouth.

“Millie,” he gasped. “We have to stop, or I’m going to take you up against the wall right here.”

Good. That was exactly what she wanted. Caution be damned.

Ernie stepped back, putting some distance between them. Why did he have to be such a gentleman?

“Go back to Beth. I’ll see you tomorrow. We’ll figure out what to do from there.”

So disappointing.

“Fine. I’ll go.” She straightened her skirts and patted her hair, hoping she didn’t look too ravaged.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, caressing her cheek.

“Seven o’clock.” She kissed his hand.

Stepping out of the alley and into the beam of the streetlight, she glanced back over her shoulder. Good God, he was handsome, and the loving look in his eyes was almost too much to bear.

There was a click. She looked around for the source of the noise but saw nothing. With a sigh, she turned around and headed back to the club.

23

The pit in Ernie’s stomach had been growing all day. Millie was coming to dinner, and he wanted everything to be perfect. He’d done every cleaning task Mom set out for him without complaint. By the time he washed up and changed, he was worn out, not so much by the cleaning as by the anticipation.

He’d never invited a woman home to meet his family, not since that disaster in high school when he wanted to take Ellen to a dance. No sense reliving that. But Ernie was a grown man now. His parents wouldn’t humiliate him like that. If anything, they were as worked up as him about Millie’s visit.

Mom seemed to be making Christmas dinner several months early, from the smells coming from the kitchen. He’d helped her heft the goose back from the market. It was big enough to feed a family three times their size.

Pop spent the day gardening and humming hymns, always a sign of high agitation.

His sisters seemed to have lost their minds and turned into a squealing, giggling, gaggle of fashion-obsessed fools. Even Constance, who usually kept her head. The pressure of a celebrity socialite coming to dinner proved too much. Little did they know Millie wore pants more often than not—a far cry from how fashion magazines depicted her.

The noise levels in the house reached record highs until the doorbell rang at seven o’clock sharp.

Then there was dead silence.

Ernie walked downstairs to the front door with all the care and attention of a man going to diffuse a bomb.

Or set one off.

Hard to say which.

He opened the door, and there was Millie in a simple, dark blue coat and matching hat. She was carrying the ugliest cake he’d ever seen and looking every bit as nervous as he felt. It was definitely homemade.

With her big, hopeful eyes, she was the most endearing sight he’d ever seen.

God, he loved this woman.

He smiled with all the warmth and tenderness he felt for her, and she smiled back nervously.

“I made it myself,” she said, breaking the silence. “I wanted to bring something. I’m not much of a cook, but…”

“It looks delicious. Come in. Mom’s cooked a feast.”