Authors: Donna Richards
“I know it’s not what I promised,” he said from behind her.
His voice sounded different, muffled, but she didn’t give it much thought. Her disappointment was too consuming. After all, he had promised to keep her identity a secret, hadn’t he?
Trust
me
, he had said.
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“No, it’s not at all what you promised.” Anger sparked and she smacked her hand on the box lid before turning to face him. “You said you’d…” The words died in her throat.
A massive deformed head balanced on top of a man’s grotesquely misshapen body. Eyeballs bulged from their sockets, a huge bulbous nose sneered over enormous yellowed teeth protruding at unlikely angles. Tufts of bristly black hair poked up in improbable places. Worst of all, it laughed at her.
“Do you like it?” Hank asked from beneath the monstrous head.
“What is it?” she asked, consciously willing her heart to slow a bit after the fright.
“I forget if it’s an ogre or a troll.” Hank replied. “All I know is it’s ugly,”
he took the mask off his head, “and hot.”
“A troll?” She stooped to retrieve the box that had fallen to the floor.
He knelt down beside her.
“I couldn’t find anything that covered you completely, so I thought if I was the one under wraps, we could still go to the ball. No one will know that I’m with you.”
“You think?” A glimmer of longing flared in her heart.
“Either that, or we can switch costumes. You go as the ogre and I’ll go as the fairy.”
The image of Hank in the diaphanous costume generated
unrestrained laughter.
“Does that mean you’ll still go?” he asked. His fingertips touched hers on the sides of the box at their feet. That same electrical current that she had experienced earlier raced up her arms and settled in her chest.
Momentarily stunned, she lifted her gaze to his and lost all sense of time and place in their inviting warmth.
“Will you?” he asked, all trace of mirth gone.
She watched his lips wrap around the vowels. Magnetic, his voice pulled her closer. Her eyelids lowered as if to verify this was all a dream.
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He leaned forward, the scent of his deep, woodsy cologne
surrounding her. Perhaps she had been transformed to that magical wood sprite, whimsical, free and daring. Miracles happened every day.
She knew. She was a product of one. Lulled by the fantasy, she leaned closer, scant inches from his tempting lips.
She was about to be kissed, truly kissed, and her heart pounded all the more fiercely for it. Not a brotherly peck on the cheek, either. Or a sloppy sophomoric kiss exchanged between two experimenting teenagers.
This would be shared between a man and a woman, a true kiss, like the kind exchanged by lovers.
But he’s a client!
Her brain screamed.
He’s not a lover. He’s not even a
date!
She froze. And he must think she’s the perfect fool to be begging for a kiss this way. She pulled back abruptly, averting her eyes.
“I’m going to go try this on,” she said, then stood before hurrying down the hallway. Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw he continued to kneel, his chin dropped to his chest. She slipped into the first bedroom and leaned heavily against the door.
“Good,” he called after her. “After you’ve changed, we’ll begin that dance lesson.”
Hank heard the door click shut and let out his breath in a slow stream. What was he doing? What had started as a benevolent gesture to treat Angela to some of those lost experiences was quickly growing out of his control. Caught in a swirling maelstrom of emotions, he wasn’t sure how to escape. Wasn’t sure he wanted to escape. He rose from his knees and walked over to Angela’s stack of CDs lying on the table. He slipped them into the CD player and pushed random play. A rich bluesy melody filled the room.
Great
, he thought with a grimace.
All I have to do now is dim the
lights, pour some wine and light some candles.
Damn, he had made promises to Owens and overtures to Elizabeth. The door clicked open www.samhainpublishing.com 165
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down the hall, but he continued his mental tirade. He shouldn’t be getting involved with a…a…
“Angel.” The word, spoken in reverence, slipped out at the sight of her.
“Do you like it?” She pirouetted in front of him, lifting the petals of the skirt to reveal trim firm thighs encased in clinging tights. His mouth went dry.
Magnificent. The costume must have been cut with seduction in mind. Gauzy layers of almost transparent fabric revealed nothing but suggested everything, from the gentle swelling of her breasts to the narrow curve of her waist. His groin tightened.
“Look at this.” With childlike glee, she pulled at a tiny ring hidden beneath the petal layers at her waist. “There’s a cord or fishing line or something that slips around to the back. When I pull this ring…”
Gossamer wings unfolded behind her with life-like precision.
“Gorgeous.” The word slipped from his lips as if in prayer. She glanced up from the device at her waist, her eyes the same shimmering blue as the magical garment she wore. He cleared his throat. “You’ll be the envy of every woman at the ball.”
“Do you think so?” Her eyes seemed more liquid than before. “I’ve never been the envy of anyone for anything.” She stepped closer.
His grip tightened on the empty CD cases in his hand. He glanced down. If he wasn’t careful, the hard plastic covers would crack.
“This song is one of my favorites.” She started to sway from side to side. “I hope they play music like this at the ball.” The shimmering petals of the costume moved with her body accentuating the rhythm. She lifted her arms like some ancient mythical goddess. “Shall we dance?”
Dancing. Right. That was what she was here for. “Do you mind if I get something to drink first? My throat’s kind of scratchy.” He tugged at the collar of the troll costume as if that were the cause of his discomfort. “As a matter of fact…” He crossed his hands and pulled off the tunic that made up the body of the costume.
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“Maybe I should change too,” she said, her eyes betraying her disappointment.
“No. You stay the way you are. You look…fabulous.” He hurried off to the kitchen for a glass of water. “I’ll just have to be careful about what I wear underneath that thing. Certainly not jeans and a sweater.” He rubbed his sweaty palms down his jeans. How was he going to teach her to dance with palms sweaty as a teenager?
“I have to tell you.” She drifted over to the kitchen to join him, the petals of her costume swaying with each step. “I’ve been thinking about this costume ball ever since you first mentioned it. I’m still a little nervous that someone will find out that it’s you and me. But this is…”
She floundered for words, her eyes sparkling to match the faint sprinkling of glitter on the wings.
Hank sipped the cool water from his glass, watching the wondrous play of joy across her face.
“It’s all so perfect.” Her eyes glowed and her voice was magic. Her words mingled with the seductive music and wove their way into his soul. He was going down fast.
“You say that because you haven’t seen me dance.” He hoped his self-deprecating humor would relieve the pressure to sample those lips that spun the magic.
“And you’re supposed to be the teacher.” She laughed, and the song ended. “Shall we?” she asked, hand extended.
He took one last gulp of the water and followed her out to the middle of the floor. A fast-paced rock and roll tune erupted from the speakers.
“The important thing is to feel the beat,” he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Can you feel it?”
Obviously she could, he reflected, as her body moved from side to sensuous side.
“Just let the music take over and get inside you. Do what you feel.”
He could have been talking to a wall. She was already doing just that.
Her eyes closed. Every movement of her arm, every swing of her hip synchronized perfectly with the music. Her lips tilted in a luring smile as www.samhainpublishing.com 167
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if she enjoyed a secret known only to her. The petals of her costume and the swing of her hair only emphasized the sensuality of her movements.
Her face glowed as if she was intoxicated.
“You lied to me,” he called over the music. Her eyes opened abruptly, she stopped moving.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re a born dancer.” He continued his clumsy side-to-side motions. “You put me to shame. I thought you said you couldn’t do this.”
Her lips turned up in that mysterious smile. “This I can do by myself with no one around.”
The thought of her dancing in this sinuous fashion behind closed doors brought new pressures. Perhaps her parents restricted her dancing, not so much to protect her heart, but to protect her partner’s.
Heaven knew his heart was pounding out a furious tempo. His hands turned clammy and, dammit, damp again.
Mercifully, the song ended and he retreated to the kitchen counter for his glass of water and another discreet swipe at his pants leg.
The next song slowed down the pace considerably. “Now this is the kind of dancing that takes two.” She swayed in invitation.
He crossed the room and stepped up close. “Let’s see.” His right hand found her waist. “Put your hand on my arm… That’s right.” He clasped her hand in his left and held it loosely aloft.
“Now what?” she asked, her head bent in concentration, staring at her feet.
“Now we take little steps, first one then the other to the music.” He demonstrated. She mimicked his movements perfectly, still watching their feet. He guided her in a slow, smooth circle.
“Is that it?” she asked, finally looking at him rather than their feet.
“That’s all there is to it,” he said, enjoying the feel of her agile waist beneath his fingers. He glanced at her face and frowned. “You look disappointed.”
“It looks different on television, or in the movies.”
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“How so?” he asked.
“For one thing, they don’t stand two feet apart.”
“Oh.” He stepped closer, feeling heat creep up the back of his neck. “I didn’t want to crowd you.” His hands slipped to the small of her back and encountered the wing contraption. “That won’t work,” he muttered before moving his hand back to her waist. Still, he was close enough that her breasts softly brushed the front of his shirt. Was that his imagination or were those taut, hard nipples gliding across his chest. He stepped on her foot.
“Sorry,” he apologized as he fumbled to find the beat. “I told you you were better at this than me.”
“The only time I’ve ever done this is when I stood on my father’s feet when I was a little girl.”
“And now, I’m attempting to stand on yours,” he teased. Her resulting laughter calmed the flutter of jitters in his stomach. They danced close, his chin at a level with her forehead. Her hair smelled fresh and clean, not the unwashed-but-disguised-by-cloying-perfume heaviness of Elizabeth’s hair. In one impulsive moment, he rested his cheek against the raw silk softness. These same silky strands had splayed across his thighs that eventful afternoon in the woods. Other regions of his body remembered the afternoon as well and he instantly wished he still wore the camouflaging tunic from the costume. He stepped back from her. “I know one step that might razzle-dazzle you.”
“Show me, please.”
“Okay, when I press the inside of your knee with mine, it means we’re going to spin around in a circle. Are you ready?” At her nod, he pressed her knee and took three fast steps, spinning her with him in the process.
“That felt like flying.” She beamed. “I love it. Can we try it again?”
“We’re out of music,” he said as the song issued its final chord.
Although the music ended, he held her close in stance, hesitant to let her go. He looked down at her tilted face, her eyes glowing with excitement, wispy blonde tendrils across her flushed forehead. “Are you still disappointed?”
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In answer, her lips reached up to his. Without thought, he met her halfway.
It was a petal-soft kiss. Delicate, inviting.
A kiss of innocent sweetness and youth. That kiss said more of her inexperience than words ever could. His hands moved instinctively around her back. He longed to lift her, pull her closer so she could see what her innocence had done to him. But that darn wing thing got in the way. Vaguely aware that her arms had somehow become entangled around his neck, he set her back a step.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” she said.
“No. No. It’s my fault. I wanted to kiss you,” he admitted, hoping to take some of her discomfort away.
“You did?” Her eyes softened. He fought the overwhelming urge to lift her up and carry her back to one of those empty bedrooms.
“Do you still…?”
“Want to take you to the dance?” he finished her sentence. She might have suggested something else and he couldn’t lose control like that again. Kissing her had definitely cost him control. “Yes, of course,” he said, although touching her was leading him down a path of ruin. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Good,” she said on a breath. Relief flooded her face. He wanted to tell her how much he enjoyed her kiss, how he longed for it to linger.
How he longed to take it deeper.
“Maybe we should call it a night,” he said instead. “Would you like to change?”
Do you need me to help
, he almost added.
“No.” she said, her face tilted studying him. “But I don’t think these wings will fit under my coat.”
He chuckled. His hands clenched into fists once she had turned toward the hallway. It would be so easy to follow her, to watch as she slipped off that flimsy concoction from her delicate shoulders, to taste those tempting breasts that reduced him to a clumsy teenager. Instead, he muttered an obscenity beneath his breath and walked over to the CD