REUNION

Kimberly Zant

1

REUNION

By

REUNION

Kimberly Zant

2

Kimberly Zant

© copyright January 2006, Kimberly Zant
Cover art by Kat Richards, © copyright January 2006
ISBN 1-58608-815-7
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com




This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s
imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or
events is merely coincidence.

REUNION

Kimberly Zant

3

Chapter One

I’d been torturing myself with the letter lying like a live coal on my

hall table for almost a week. I tried to convince myself I’d forgotten all
about it, but every time I passed that table coming or going, my gaze lit on
that letter again.

My fifteenth year class reunion was coming up. I hadn’t been back to

that awful little town since I’d graduated because I’d really grown to hate
pretty much everything about it in the five years I’d spent there.

The town had one redeeming quality, though. His name was Heath.

I grew warm and tingly in all my special places even thinking the

name.

How could one male have all that much animal attraction, I wondered

irritably, especially all these many years later?

He was probably fat, bald, and divorced with three children.

Even though I knew that, statistically speaking, I was probably right,

telling myself that made no difference at all. I continued to picture him in
my mind as I’d last seen him--looking like some dark, dangerous hero that
had just stepped out of the pages of Wuthering Heights.

I’d always imagined him as Heathcliff even though, aside from having

that tall, dark and dangerous look going on for him, there wasn’t exactly a
lot of similarity otherwise. My Heath was an only son and from a very well-
to-do family, captain of the football team, honor student, voted most likely to
succeed, most popular, etc., etc., ad nauseam.

The trouble was I couldn’t even hate him for being Mr. Perfect. He’d

always worked on presenting the world with a macho, cocky attitude, but I
could see right through that. He wasn’t nearly as cocky as he had every
right to be considering his looks, his intelligence, and his pedigree.

I supposed that was because his mother had died when he was barely

twelve.

He’d never been quite the same after that and I had burned to nurture

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and comfort him even before I’d gotten to the stage of burning to jump his
bones.

I was actually surprised that they’d bothered to send me an invitation

to the reunion. As far as I could tell I’d been the invisible girl throughout
high school--which beat the hell out of being the butt of every joker and
bully--but that hadn’t done a thing for an ego already suffering from the red
hair and freckles some really sick deity had deigned to bestow upon me.

Ok, so they had called me stick, because I was skinny, but they’d

discovered very quickly that I had the cliché temper to go with the red hair
and although they’d called me berserker after I beat the shit out the boy that
was tormenting me and got expelled for a month, they only whispered it
behind my back and everyone seemed to prefer to just ignore me.

I preferred that, too, for the most part.

So, they’d either sent me the invite because they’d forgotten who I

was and I was on the list, or because they were dying to see if I still looked
like shit, or because they figured I wouldn’t go anyway.

I didn’t have any intention of going.

It had nothing to do with any anxiety about not stacking up. I was

inclined to think I looked pretty damned good. I had to work like hell at it,
but I wasn’t an eye sore. I was fairly successful--I wasn’t on welfare
anyway. And I had actually been married. I wasn’t anymore and hadn’t
taken his name, but I could still officially declare myself marriageable. It
had lasted almost ten years, too.

OK six, but that was on the backside of five so I figured I could round

it up. It sounded better. Of course we’d only actually lived together for
three of those six years, but, officially, it was six.

So I could talk about my ex if I went and anybody actually spoke to

me. And I was a business woman. Nobody would know that it was just a
one woman operation that took up the front parlor of the tiny Victorian
house I’d bullied my ex-husband into buying with me and restoring.

It was actually the house that was our downfall.

We hadn’t grown together while we were restoring it. We’d begun to

fight like cats and dogs and continued to do so until he’d dumped my dream
home into my lap and moved on to a cookie cutter apartment that had
running water on command and a mealy mouthed female barely out of

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kindergarten who was afraid to move without his permission and, I
suspected, got his consent before she even took a dump.

Spineless women made me ill. I didn’t know which was worse, the

ones that truly were total cowards, or the ones who smiled complacently and
called themselves ‘old fashioned,’ meaning they never took responsibility
for anything but actually ruled the roost through torture by whining,
begging, and weeping whenever they didn’t get their way.

In spite of all the time I spent trying to reason with myself, and all the

time I spent trying to convince myself I wasn’t even interested enough to
remember, I found myself making travel arrangements a full week before the
damned reunion.

It was Heath.

I hadn’t thought about him, much, over the intervening years, but he’d

gotten under my skin and stayed there. An exorcism had to be performed to
rid myself of the demons.

I was going. If he had a wife and kids in tow, I’d call it a day.

If he was single, I was going to nail him--whatever he looked like

now. The worse, the better, as far as I was concerned. A three day weekend
was planned. With any luck, I’d have him by the second day and could be
home the following day in time to rest up and get ready for another work
week.

I would have to be a femme fatale--bold, reckless, and irresistible.

I could handle the bold and reckless part with no problem, and my ex

could testify to fact that I was fatal in large doses. As for irresistible--I knew
men. Free pussy was always irresistible and I was in luck, I had one.

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6

Chapter Two

I was already in a black mood by the time I arrived. Flying scared the

shit out of me. I’d forgotten that little detail when I’d been weaving my
web, probably because I hadn’t set foot on a plane in years.

I think they put me on the same one and it had been borderline antique

then. Now, it looked like a Franken-plane. About a third of the seats were
orange, another third blue and the rest varying patterns from, I knew, the
plane junk yard. There wasn’t anything on it that didn’t rattle, including my
teeth. The stewardess kept looking at me every time she passed, which was
frequently, as if she suspected I would go postal some time during the flight.
Finally, she paused and asked if she could get me anything.

“A fifth of vodka might do it,” I responded through tightly clenched

teeth.

She brought me a tiny bottle that wouldn’t even make one stiff drink--

not in my current mood, anyway.

I thought we’d crashed when the fucking thing landed, honest to god,

partly because of the way it slammed into the runway, and partly because
everybody jumped up the second the seatbelt light went off. By the time I
managed to un-strap myself, the aisle was full.

I didn’t care. I was getting off before it blew if I had to take out the

twelve people in front me.

Fortunately for all concerned, I discovered my legs wouldn’t

cooperate with my plan. The plane was almost empty by the time I managed
to lock my knees and stand. I wobbled from the plane and stood in the
middle of the airport for a while, fighting the urge to throw myself to the
floor and kiss it.

I was driving back, I decided when I finally recovered enough to look

for my bag and find the car rental office. I didn’t care if it took me ten years.
I’d walk if I had to.

As shaken as I was, it took me nearly three more hours to reach the

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little hick town I hated. By the time I found the hotel I looked like I’d been
rode hard and put up wet. The chic business suit I’d so carefully planned for
my grand entrance was wrinkled beyond repair and stained with everything
I’d tried to put in my mouth since I’d climbed onto that twice damned plane
because my hands were shaking so badly I’d only managed to ring the hole
maybe one time out of five.

Most of my makeup, so carefully applied, was either gone, or had

migrated across my face to some other region. I’d squeezed my eyes shut
throughout most of the flight, praying to a god I didn’t believe in to get me
down in one piece. Consequently, the mascara and eyeliner that had once
graced my upper eye lids were now clotted beneath my eyes. I could tell
this because every time I blinked, my lashes stuck to my lower lid and I had
to lift my brows to get my eyes open again.

I hadn’t looked in a mirror. I didn’t want to know how bad it was

since I couldn’t do anything about it, but I’d gotten enough startled looks
from strangers to know it had to be at least as bad as I thought it was.

The clerk at the hotel glanced at me as I stepped up to the counter and

did a double take. Pasting a false smile on his lips, he kept his gaze in the
region of my mouth after that.

People staring at specific parts of my anatomy had always disturbed

me. If I knew someone was staring at my body, any part of it, I became
instantly uncoordinated and awkward. I couldn’t walk without tripping, and
could only move in a mechanical, unnatural way.

People staring at my lips had the same effect. I abruptly forgot how to

form words with my lips.

He probably thought I was in town for the special Olympics.

I should’ve known right then that it was all going to be downhill from

there, tucked my tail between my legs, and hauled ass for home.

But no! I was no spineless wimp, no coward. As soon as I got my

land legs back--in a month or so--I’d be fine.

I’d just grasped my key and snarled a thank you at the clerk when I

heard the brisk approach of footsteps behind me. Lulled by the certainty that
everything that could possibly go wrong already had, I turned, expecting a
bellhop to help with my bags.

Instead, I saw Heath striding straight toward me across the wide

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lobby.

He didn’t look anything like I remembered.

He was twice as beautiful, matured beyond boy pretty to manly drop

dead gorgeous.

The bottom fell out of my stomach. Every muscle, bone, and nerve in

my body went into instant rigor.

His gaze flickered over me.

As if I’d suddenly been goosed in the ass, I came around with a jolt

and bolted toward the elevator as fast as my legs could carry me, looking, I
knew, like a poster child for the special Olympics because my legs--my
entire--body felt disjointed, uncoordinated, barely under my control.

“You forgot your bag!”

His voice put more speed into my awkward gallop. It also sent a

flurry of goose bumps racing up my back and up my scalp. I pictured my
hair standing up in a ridge like a startled cat’s fur.

I pretended to be deaf.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t. I could hear brisk footsteps behind me.

It wasn’t him, rushing to bring my bag to me. Life could not be so

cruel!

I managed to leap into the elevator as the doors began to close.

I’d just drawn a breath of relief when a broad hand halted the closing

doors.

If I’d had a paper bag, I think I’d have put it over my head. Better to

be thought crazy than have him see me looking like something from Fright
Night.

He wouldn’t recognize me, I knew, because I was the invisible girl

back then and only lusted over him from afar like a zillion other girls, but
what really sucked was that he wasn’t going to be able to forget the woman
in the elevator. It would probably give him nightmares.

“You forgot you bag.”

I ducked my head and smiled with my lips closed, abruptly certain

that the lipstick I’d tried to apply in a failed attempt to freshen up in the car
was mostly on my teeth. “Oh! Rough trip. Thank you so much!”

He bent down and looked up at my face. “Carrie?”

My eyes widened. My brain scrambled for a response. Pretend I was

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somebody else?

No. That wouldn’t work, not unless I lit out for home and didn’t go to

the reunion.

Pretend I didn’t know him?

Right, like anybody that had gone to that school didn’t know Heath

Bardsley!

The elevator door closed, trapping me inside. The sensation of

drowning washed over me.

“It’s me--Heath--Bardsley. You don’t remember me, do you?”

I pasted a quizzical smile on my lips. “Oh, yeah! How are you?”

He shook his head. “Can’t complain. You look--good.”

The pause was slight, but I noticed it. “You should’ve seen me before

the car hit me.”

He chuckled, scrubbed a hand through his thick, nearly black hair and

looked around the elevator as if he’d just realized there was no escape. “You
staying here?” he asked and then reddened.

I killed the urge to respond with something catty. As badly as I felt, I

couldn’t bring myself to take it out on him, especially when he was
struggling so hard to carry on a conversation and looking so adorably
ruffled. Why was it that men could look like somebody had thrown
yesterday’s laundry at them, have a two day growth of beard, and hair that
looked like it hadn’t been combed in days and still look good enough to eat?
It just wasn’t fair!

Not that he did. Except for the fact that he’d just finger combed his

hair into complete disorder, he was movie star gorgeous.

“Just got in. As you can probably tell, it was a hell of a trip.”

Shit! I’d said hell. I’d always had the mouth of a sailor, couldn’t be

ladylike if my life depended on it.

Fuck it! I hadn’t come to be a lady any damned way!

“You look good. You’ve hardly changed at all.”

“Thanks,” I said dully. So much for thinking I’d improved over the

years.

The elevator dinged. My gaze shot to the button and relief flooded

me. “My floor. Thanks for grabbing my bag.”

“I’ll carry it to your room for you.”

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“Oh! I couldn’t impose!” I said quickly, gnashing my teeth at my

foiled attempt to escape.

He ignored the protest, hefted the bag and stepped out into the

hallway. I followed, my tail tucked between my legs in defeat and looked
around at the numbers on the doors. Thankfully, I was only a few doors
down. It took me three tries to get the fucking key card to work. Finally, I
managed to get the door open, though, and reached for my bag. He pushed
the door open and carried it in while I followed him like a whipped bitch,
totally discomposed by the fact that he’d brushed by me to get in and rubbed
my tits all over his chest in the process.

When he’d set my bag on the bag rack, he turned and studied me for a

long moment. “I guess I should go get checked in,” he said slowly.

Now was the moment of truth, the time for bold sluttiness. He’d

given me an opening. All I had to do was flutter my eyelashes at him, lean
over ever so slightly and give him a shot of my boobs and offer to share a
room. Instead, I merely nodded jerkily, like a puppet someone else had
control of. “Later then. Thanks again.”

“If you’re hungry we could grab a bite to eat. The welcome reception

isn’t until eight.”

And barf all over his shoes afterwards? I could easily envision it. My

stomach was tied in twelve knots of agony. “I had a snack on the plane.” I
was, in fact, still wearing most of it.

He nodded, his brows coming together over the bridge of his nose. I

couldn’t tell whether it was a thoughtful frown or one of displeasure. “I
guess I’ll see you at the reception then.”

Not if I saw him first.

When he left, I felt like kicking myself until I took one look in the

mirror. Then I wondered if the hotel was high enough for me to jump off of
and end it all. Probably not. Three stories looked like a lot, but with my
luck I’d land on something soft enough to prevent death and insure a long
future as a broken woman.

Angry with the whole world, I stripped down to my underwear, pulled

the few remaining clips from my hair and fell face first onto the bed,
wondering if I could just suffocate myself in the bed clothes.

When that didn’t work, I focused on trying to relax. Ten minutes of

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mental chanting followed. Finally, exhausted by my terror from the plane,
the drive from the city, and the emotional upheaval of the TRAUMATIC
EVENT, I dozed.

A rapping on my door woke me when I’d been asleep just long

enough to achieve the zombie stage. Staggering out of the bed, I wandered
around the room for several moments looking for the door and finally
followed the knocking.

Heath was standing in the hallway when I jerked the door open.

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Chapter Three

His gaze grazed mine and then traveled downward. Mine followed.

I was wearing nothing but the matching demi-cup bra and thong I’d so

thoughtfully chosen for THE SEDUCTION, just in case I managed to snag
him on the way in. Unfortunately, I’d been in such a rush to get off I’d
missed my appointment for a bikini wax. Stray, curling, fiery red hairs had
escaped the cute little patch of fabric that covered my mound.

So I wasn’t a neat freak, I thought irritably. How was a woman

supposed to remember every tiny, fucking detail?

Heath was looking up and down the hallway when I looked up at him

again. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m in the room across the hall if
you change your mind about a late lunch,” he said, pointing toward a door
two down from mine.

“Thanks,” I said automatically and shut the door in his face.

Still more asleep than awake, I staggered back into the room and fell

into the bed again. The room was growing dark when I roused the second
time. Bleary eyed, I looked around until I found a clock, then stared at it for
a good five minutes trying to figure out whether the time was 7AM or 7PM.
It took me a few minutes to figure that one out, but I finally deduced that I’d
either slept straight through until the following morning, or it was PM,
because I’d left home in the AM and hadn’t arrived at my destination until
mid-afternoon.

So it must be PM, but why did that seem significant, I wondered?

It was 7:15 by the time my fatigue retarded brain managed to wrap

itself around the fact that I’d been through hell to get to a reception that was
starting in less than an hour.

I almost busted my ass when I rolled out of the bed, mostly because

somebody started knocking at the door, distracting me just as I rolled off the
edge. “Who is it?” I yelled.

“Me.”

Shit! Damn it to hell couldn’t the man wait until I had myself

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together? Why was he so determined to catch me looking like shit at every
turn? “Me who?” I called weakly.

A prolonged silence followed that question. “Heath,” he finally

responded.

“Heath who?” I called back, stalling for time as I raced around the

room in a panic, accomplishing absolutely nothing.

“Very funny. Could you open the door?”

“I’m not dressed.”

Another prolonged silence. “You weren’t while ago either.”

I’d thought that was a nightmare brought on by the trauma I’d

experienced on my way in. Sighing in defeat, I stalked to the door and, in a
belated display of modesty, hid behind it and poked my head out. “Yes?”

He looked at his watch. “I thought I’d escort you down.”

“Oh. How sweet! Actually, I’m not ready.”

“I’ll wait.”

We wrestled briefly with the door. He won. I scurried into the

bathroom and locked it, turning the shower on full blast and then realized
my makeup bag and everything else was in the room with Heath.

Moment of truth, stroll out naked? In a towel?

Chicken shit that I was, I opened the door a crack and peered around

the room. “Could you hand me my make up bag--in my suitcase?”

I studied my toes while I waited, listening to the sound of the zipper

as he opened my suitcase.

It occurred to me abruptly that I’d brought my trusty vibrator with me

in case of defeat, an acknowledgement of my lack of confidence that I’d
been at pains to put from my mind.

I broke two nails snatching the door open to make a mad dash for the

suitcase.

Heath was holding Black Beauty up examining it when I skidded to a

halt.

I gaped at him for a moment and finally snatched it from his hand and

tossed it back into the suitcase. Grabbing the makeup bag, I darted back into
the bathroom, locking the door behind me.

Damn it to hell, I thought, flinging the bag down in disgust, uncaring,

at the moment anyway, if I broke anything or not.

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Shrugging the latest in a long line of awful events from my mind, I

studied the bag. I’d come armed to the teeth and planned a two hour
primpathon to prepare for battle. I didn’t have time for it now and what was
the point anyway?

Disposing of my underclothes, I climbed into the shower and tried to

boil my cares away.

I didn’t care what time it was.

Maybe he’d give up and leave if it took me a long time?

Sighing, I tried to focus on my task. The bathroom was so fogged by

the time I got out again the mirror was solid white with steam. I scrubbed
the steam off and peered into it long enough to use cream to remove the
raccoon eyes from smeared mascara. By the time I’d brushed my teeth and
given myself a quick facial, I knew I was defeated. I hadn’t brought
anything into the bathroom to put on and the room was still so thick with
steam it would’ve been pointless even to try to apply makeup.

I could walk out bare assed and bare faced and try to put on a show of

unconcern, or I could wrap up in towels and dash around a while longer like
a crazed virgin.

Bold! Brazen! I told myself, giving myself a couple of mental slaps.

Wrapping a towel around me sarong style, I left the bathroom with my

hair plastered to my skull and dripping all over the place.

He was standing near the window, staring out at the night, but as I left

the bathroom he turned to face me without any pretense of guile, blatantly
examining me. I knew this even though I hadn’t spared more than a glance
in his direction because I could feel his gaze on me like a touch of fire.

He swallowed, the sound audible even to me and my heart was

pounding in my ears like war drums. “You owe me a kiss,” he said after a
moment, his voice sounding strained.

Slowly, I straightened from my search for clothes and turned to look

at him blankly, certain I’d heard him wrong. Nothing materialized in my
rattled brain and I tilted my head questioningly.

“Grad night.”

I blinked rapidly in confusion. I think it was a brain twitch, but the

blinking seemed to prime the pump. Disjointed bits and pieces of memories
began to sputter through my brain.

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I hadn’t realized how deeply I’d buried those memories. Dusting

wasn’t helping much. I needed a shop vac. Abruptly I remembered snatches
of the stupid little game one of the cheerleaders had thought up as an excuse
for some touchy feely action--which, of course, we had been forbidden to
indulge in.

No drinking, no cussing, no necking--Grad night at the High School

had been thought up specifically by the parents to make sure their new
graduates had a night to remember, not one to regret.

My best buddy Cheryl had dragged me in to it, I finally remembered.

Not that I wasn’t intrigued by it since Heath was there, but we weren’t

exactly welcomed by the ‘in’ group we’d joined. They just hadn’t chased us
off like they usually did.

My face lit up like a neon sign when I finally remembered I’d lost the

round, which meant I was supposed to give someone in the group a kiss--
tongue action specified, no wimpy half measures like a peck on the cheek.
The gods had been with me that night. It had been Cheryl’s turn to pick the
recipient of my honors.

I still didn’t know how she’d managed to find Heath--in the dark, and

blindfolded with everyone dancing around her and trying to dodge her--but I
was in no doubt that she’d gone after him. She knew how I felt about him.

Everyone else probably did after that night.

I could tell by their expressions that they thought the whole thing was

a put up job.

Maryanne Mullins, head cheerleader and Heath’s ex, had managed to

‘accidentally’ trip me up and then, clumsy me, I’d fallen over her best friend,
who’d coincidentally bent down at just that moment to tie her shoelace.

Heath had kept me from totally humiliating and hurting myself by

catching me, but I’d still been embarrassed and angry.

I still was.

I wondered abruptly if Maryanne and Sharon were at the reunion. I

still owed them one and I was pretty sure there was a convenience store
close by that carried rat poison.

A hand gliding over my bare shoulder brought me back from memory

lane and I discovered that Heath had crossed the room while I was taking my
stroll. I looked up at him with a mixture of hurt and embarrassment. It was

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tempting but fifteen years too late and part of a bad memory besides. I
hadn’t come looking for any kind of romance. I was pretty sure I wasn’t up
to it emotionally speaking. I just wanted a good fuck so I could put him out
of my mind once and for all, not to collect something new to haunt me.

I shook my head slowly and decided I might as well confess. “I’m

pretty sure that was a put up job. Cheryl was gunning for you.”

His dark brows rose. After a moment, a faint smile lifted one corner

of his lips. “It was, and I had a hell of a time arranging it, even with Cheryl’s
help.”

I went back to blinking as the words pelted into my brain but failed to

connect immediately with the translation sector. “You arranged the whole
thing? Cheryl was in on it?” I demanded finally, feeling anger begin to
simmer just below the surface.

A frown drew his brows together over the bridge of his nose. Dark

color began to creep up his cheeks. “She said you liked me. I thought
Maryanne screwed the whole thing up.”

Now he was saying it hadn’t been his idea to embarrass me? The

comments shattered the brewing anger but did nothing about clearing up my
confusion. “You mean the kiss?”

He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could get

anything out the phone let out a squawk that sent a jolt through me like an
electric current. I jumped as if I’d just been goosed in the ass as the strident
noise went through me. An animal need to prevent the thing from going off
again followed on the heels of that and I whirled and dashed to grab the
receiver just as the ringer cut loose a second time.

Why the hell some moron had set the ringer wide open was beyond

me. “Hello!” I growled into the phone, as angry about the intrusion as I was
about the ungodly noise.

Apparently I startled the person on the other end. Silence greeted my

greeting.

“Hello?”

“Uh … Carrie? Is this Carrie Monroe?”

The urge was strong to demand who wanted to know before I

committed myself, but I abruptly became aware that my temper probably
wasn’t making points for me with Heath. “Yes?”

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She forced a fake chuckle. “It’s Cheryl. I was just checking on our

AWOLs. You’re coming to the reception, aren’t you? I was hoping we’d
get the chance to catch up on old times.”

I glanced at Heath. Mouthing the word ‘later’, he strode from the

room. The door closed behind him with a solidness that was like a book
slamming shut and a sense of deflation and depression washed over me.
Damn it to hell! “I’m running late. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Without waiting for her to say anything else, I hung up and moved to

the foot of the bed to stare at the door, resisting the temptation to dash to it
and snatch it open.

Finally, uttering a deep sigh, I returned my attention to getting ready

for a party I no longer had any interest in going to.

When I was dressed, I simply stood staring at my sexy little black

dress in the mirror wondering why I’d even gone through the motions of
trying to look enticing. Two chances, and I’d blown both of them!

I should’ve just been grateful the way I’d looked when I’d arrived

hadn’t sent him running. All I’d had to do, I realized belatedly, was seize the
day. He’d wanted to fuck my brains out. I’d seen it in his eyes. I’d just
been too damned wrapped up in my own little insecurities to fully grasp it.

Dragging my gaze from the scooped neckline of my dress, I glanced

at the clock.

Eight thirty. The thing was well underway now. If I screwed around a

little longer I could just call it a night.

I was tempted to throw in the towel right then. It occurred to me

though that I’d spent my high school years letting them make all of my
decisions because their lack of acceptance and their disapproval of me had
made me reluctant to do what I wanted to do.

Fuck them! Maybe I’d blown it with Heath, and maybe not. The

main thing was I didn’t want them all to think I’d come all this way and then
was too chicken to show my face.

Shaking my head at the realization that I was still letting them control

me by disapproval, I grabbed my purse, checked to make sure I’d put my
room key in it, and resolutely headed down.

The party was in the hotel ballroom.

They must have had a bumper turnout, I decided, if they’d needed the

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big room.

I began to hear the music long before I reached the now deserted

reception desk.

Several name badges were still lying unclaimed on the surface. I

stared at mine for several moments and finally picked it up and tucked it into
my purse. I didn’t care if anybody recognized me and I wasn’t going to mar
the dress that had cost me an arm and a leg with a fucking name badge.

Moving to the closed double doors, I pulled one open and stepped

inside. It was almost like traveling back through time except the old high
school gym had never looked this good.

My heart caught the pulse of music almost instantly. Adrenaline

began to pump through me. Dragging in a deep breath to try to calm my
jittery nerves, I looked around for a familiar face.

Most of them weren’t familiar. Who were all these old people, I

wondered?

A shriek jerked my attention toward a plump thirty something woman

wearing a dress that looked about two sizes too small. I stared at the
grinning face as she charged me, bracing myself for impact. “Carrie!”

She threw her arms around me and hugged me before I could fight her

off. “It’s me! Cheryl! God! I thought you weren’t coming after all.”

I leaned back to look at her, feeling the years drop away as recognition

began to seep in.

“I know, I’m fat. Pregnancy will do that to you.”

I blinked. “You’re pregnant?” I echoed, trying not to sound as

horrified as I was.

“Three months,” she nodded complacently. “This is my fourth. I

thought I wasn’t going to be able to get into this stupid dress. It looks like
crap on me, doesn’t it?” she ended, her buoyant happiness changing course
almost instantaneously.

“No!” I lied instantly, more by instinct than thought. “It’s … just been

so long.”

She nodded, happy again. “I looked for you at the fifth and then again

at the tenth. Of course almost nobody showed up for the fifth reunion …
except you know who. I think he was looking for you. He didn’t hang
around long.”

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19

My face commenced to flashing like a neon sign. I tried to play

stupid anyway. “Who?”

She punched me in the ribs with her elbow like she had a hundred

times back when we’d been best friends. “W. H.?” she prodded, reminding
me of the ‘code--Wuthering Heights’ we’d used when I was slobbering over
Heath, just in case anyone was eavesdropping on the conversation … which
they usually were. The one thing I’d hated most about the place was the fact
that no one seemed to have a life of their own. Gossip was the mainstay.

“Come on. Let’s get something to eat before everybody else beats us

to the food.”

Without waiting for my acquiescence, she grabbed my hand and

began to haul me behind her toward the long buffet spread out near the
opposite wall of the ballroom. I was game. In fact, by now I was starving.

I began to put on brakes, however, when I spied Heath standing by the

buffet, a plate in one hand. His gaze met mine as we neared and I could see
he was trying to gauge my mood.

New hurtle. Pretend I’d never seen him in my life? Ignore everything

that had already happened and pretend I’d just spotted a long lost friend?
Acknowledge that I’d fucked up and wanted another chance?

I didn’t have to think about it. When he arched one dark brow at me

and wiggled it, I chuckled. Shaking my head slightly, I looked away and
saw that Cheryl had stopped in her tracks and was dividing a glance between
the two of us. “Something you want to share?”

I gave her a look. “I ran into him when I was checking in,” I

responded, knowing I had to give her something or she wouldn’t stop
digging.

“Oooo,” she cooed. “Did you…?”

I followed the direction of her gaze to see why she’d broken off so

abruptly. “We didn’t,” Heath said.

“Didn’t what?” Cheryl demanded, her interest thoroughly piqued.

“Whatever you were going to ask,” Heath retorted, smiling easily,

though a faint glint of irritation appeared in his eyes. “This disgusting
looking brown stuff is pretty good.”

Cheryl looked his plate over. “Lobster bisque,” she responded, an

edge to her voice now. “I made it.”

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Heath grinned, totally unrepentant. “I said it was good.”

I bit my lip to keep from smiling. I suspected he’d known all along

that she’d brought the bisque, and known what it was for that matter. “I’ll
have some,” I put in before they could get any further embroiled in an
argument. “I’m starving.”

“I tried to get you to have lunch with me,” he reminded me.

Cheryl shot a wide eyed glance from him to me and back again,

waiting with baited breath to see what else we’d admit.

When had Cheryl become one of those people I despised, I wondered?

She didn’t used to be so nosey.

Then again, maybe she had and it just hadn’t bothered me because we

were friends.

I gave Heath a look. “I’m sorry now that I didn’t take you up on your

… invitation,” I said, pausing significantly.

To my delight, he caught it right off. He always was a clever fellow!

A slow grin curled his lips. “Are you?” he asked, intrigued, his voice deep
now and resonant with promise.

“Mmmhmm,” I admitted. “Now I’m … starving,” I purred, giving

him a sultry look from beneath my lashes.

He chuckled, glanced at Cheryl and then turned to look the buffet

over.

As if he didn’t know I wasn’t talking about food!

Satisfied that I’d at least not totally screwed the pooch in my quest to

get laid, I moved away from the two of them, grabbed a plate and wandered
down the buffet, helping myself to everything that caught my interest.

I saw when I got to the other end that Heath had disappeared, but I

wasn’t particularly disturbed. I’d all but promised him a piece of ass. No
self-respecting cocks-man turned down a free piece.

This was more like it, I decided, no pretense that it was more than

what it was, a sexual encounter to scratch an itch. I had my life. He had his.
I could exorcise my demons. He could get laid without worrying about a
backlash. And then we could both put it out of our minds forever.

“Heath grabbed a table for us, but he had to stay and guard it,” Cheryl

said at my elbow.

I frowned slightly. I didn’t particularly care for the new wrinkle. I

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21

didn’t want to make small talk all evening. I was bound to say something
else to fuck things up.

There didn’t seem to be any hope for it though.

Shrugging inwardly, I allowed Cheryl to lead me to the table.

He got up and pulled my chair out for me. I smiled up at him as I sat.

One of the things that had always pleased me about Heath was his

exquisite good manners. I liked being treated like a lady even though I’d
never been one and we both knew it.

My ass had barely settled when a woman stalked up to the table, a

determined smile stretching her lips. “Cassie! You did make it!”

I narrowed my eyes at her. The wicked witch of the south, unless I

missed my guess. It pleased me to see she looked like hell. And she’d
deliberately butchered my name. “Maryanne!” I exclaimed as if we were
long lost friends. “Life’s been treating you, I see,” I added with just a touch
of snide to the comment, turning in my seat and sweeping my glass of iced
tea off the table at the same time. It didn’t look quite like an accident, but
not entirely as if I’d tossed it at her either, which was almost as good.

She gasped as the cold tea hit her belly high and washed down the

front of her dress.

“Oh god! I’m so sorry!” I gasped in false dismay, dragging my

napkin across my plate before I dabbed at her evening dress with it. “I’m so
clumsy!”

She slapped my hand away. “My dress!” she gasped with a mixture of

dawning rage and dismay.

“It’s not ruined, is it?” I said with only slightly forced but entirely

false sympathy.

Uttering a growl of anger, she whirled on her heel and departed

rapidly, pushing her way through the crowd that had gathered to rubber neck
the incident.

Shrugging, I turned my attention to my plate once more.

Cheryl, too stunned at first to react, snorted, covering her mouth with

her hand.

I slid a glance in Heath’s direction to see how he’d taken it.

He’d propped an elbow on the table--very bad form--and cupped his

mouth and chin in one hand. His shoulders were shaking ever so slightly.

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When he’d mastered his amusement, he settled back in his chair and looked
me over with a faint, quizzical smile as if seeing me for the first time. “Were
you always this … outrageous?”

I thought it over. “I’m pretty sure,” I admitted. “Not that I can really

take credit, mind you. It was just an off the cuff sort of happy coincidence.”
I sighed with pleasure, feeling as if a great weight had been lifted from my
shoulders. Revenge was so sweet! “When I plan things they don’t usually
turn out nearly so well.”

My napkin, I discovered, was dripping. Heath handed me a fresh one

as I balled mine up and tossed it to the middle of the table and I dabbed at
the ‘fallout’ from my little battle, mildly irritated that I’d gotten food on me,
too.

The cleaning bill would be worth it, though.

I discovered I was in a fabulous mood as I dug into my food at last

and ate a hearty meal. I was nearing the point of overindulgence when the
first notes of one of my all time favorite songs filtered out over the noise the
crowd was making. I lifted my head, listening. Sure enough, they were
playing my song, All I Wanna Do is Make Love to You, by Heart. The song
wasn’t just beautiful, it had ‘spoken’ to me back then, fired my lovesick
imagination. I would lay for hours listening to it and imagining I was the
girl and Heath was the handsome stranger I’d picked up on some lonely
highway.

“Dance?”

I glanced at Heath to see he was holding his hand out.

I turned to look at Cheryl questioningly. She made a shooing motion

with her hands. “I’m going to look for Trevor. I left him with some of his
old buddies an hour ago.”

My brows rose as Heath helped me up and led me toward the dance

floor. “Trevor Smith?” I wondered aloud.

“Yep,” Heath confirmed it, pulling me into his arms for the slow

dance.

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23

Chapter Four

I settled one hand on his shoulder as he threaded his fingers through

my other hand and caught my waist. His cologne, or aftershave, warmed by
his body, wafted over me. It smelled heavenly and between the scent, his
warmth, the teasing brush of our bodies in the movements of the dance, and
the music, euphoria began to steal over me.

“I thought she hated him,” I murmured, more to keep my mind off of

the jittery sensation in my belly than because I had any real interest. “She
caught him with Heather Johnson on prom night.”

He shrugged as if he wasn’t really interested either. His hand on my

waist tightened, bringing me closer. Dipping his head until his lips were
near my ear, he murmured. “Now, about that kiss.”

I chuckled. Slipping my hand up his arm to his shoulder, I threaded

my fingers through the dark hair at the nape of his neck. It felt cool and
silky to my fingers. We slowed until we were barely moving. I nuzzled his
neck on the way to his ear. “You are persistent,” I murmured, nibbling at his
ear lobe.

A shudder went through him. His hand slipped from my waist to the

middle of my back, pressing until I was plastered fully against him. The
hard ridge that bumped against my belly was a delightful development for so
small an effort on my part.

He must be seriously horny, I thought wryly, but my body wasn’t

nearly as skeptical. My belly clenched reflexively. The warmth that had
already burgeoned magnified.

Our breaths mingled as he sought my lips. I tilted my head to meet

him. For several moments, we merely teased each other, brushing our lips
lightly together, breathing in each other’s scent, nibbling. Everything on me
tightened as if I’d been squeezed by a giant, invisible hand.

I lifted my eyelids with an effort and looked up at him when he

withdrew slightly.

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Sighing gustily, he zoomed in for the kill, his mouth covering mine.

Molten pleasure poured through me even before he thrust his tongue into my
mouth. The moment I felt the skate of his tongue along mine and his taste
filled my mouth and soul I lost all contact with the world, became blind,
deaf and dumb as raw animal need enveloped me.

Dimly, I realized that it was everything I’d always thought it would

be, hoped for.

By the time he broke the kiss, my panties were damp with need and I

felt as disoriented as if I’d downed a dozen shooters in quick succession.

Slipping a hand along my waist, he guided me back to the table,

pushed me into my chair and excused himself.

Blinking, I looked around dazedly, trying to figure out what had just

happened. Heath, I saw, was barreling out of the ball room as if his coat tails
were on fire.

Encountering a couple of stares, I looked down at my shaking hands

on the table, frowning in concentration as I tried to gather my wits.

“What happened to Heath?”

I looked up at Cheryl blankly and discovered there was a fat balding

man standing just behind her, his arm curled around her waist familiarly.
“He … uh … I’m not sure,” I managed. “I think he had to make a phone
call,” I added the brilliant lie as it came to me.

An expression of sympathy crossed Cheryl’s features. “He probably

went to check on his kid,” she murmured, making it clear her sympathy was
for him, not me. “His wife took off and left her with him, you know.”

I hadn’t pictured Heath as a father. I don’t know why. There had

certainly been plenty of time for a full life since I’d seen him last.

It didn’t especially help my feelings to know he was separated from

his wife.

Anger began to seep through the shock. The Heath I’d thought I’d

known was too much of a gentleman to mess around, and separation wasn’t
divorce.

“She was murdered, you know,” Cheryl whispered.

My jaw dropped as a new wave of shock rolled over me.

“You didn’t know? God! I’d thought it was all over the news

everywhere. She met this guy on the internet,” Cheryl whispered excitedly.

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“The first poor Heath knew of it, she’d taken off. Left him a note that she
hated this little dirt water town almost as much as she hated him and she’d
met someone else. I guess she figured she’d come back for the baby--
because I just never could understand Marcy abandoning her baby like that--
anyway, she didn’t get the chance. The guy killed her. They found her body
in a seedy hotel in Atlanta.” She leaned closer. “They even investigated
Heath, thinking, I guess, maybe he’d hired the guy to bump her off, but then
they found all the emails on her computer where she’d been having virtual
sex with the guy for months and months. Trevor works for the police
department, you know, so even though it isn’t common knowledge....”

A wave of nausea washed over me. “You know, I’m not really feeling

well,” I said quickly. “The trip, I expect. Or maybe it was something I ate.
I think I’m going to call it a night.”

“Oh but … what should I tell Heath when he comes back?”

I’d already jumped to my feet. “What I just told you,” I said tightly,

ignoring the hurt look that crossed her features and heading blindly for the
door so very far away. I was fortunate enough to spy Heath returning before
he spotted me, and lucky to be short enough I was hard to spot. When he’d
passed, I shot for the door again and made good my escape.

I couldn’t really say that the things running through my mind as I fled

in full retreat toward my room constituted cognitive thought. All I kept
thinking all the way up in the elevator was that tragedy seemed to haunt my
poor Heath as surely as it had dogged Heathcliff. Maybe getting laid was all
he really wanted or needed … and maybe not. What if he was still
vulnerable? I hadn’t had enough wit about me to ask Cheryl how long ago
all of this had happened. It could’ve been years. It might have been
yesterday.

I had a hell of a time getting my damned key card to work.

Sometimes I really hated technology!

I realized almost the moment I slammed the door behind me that I

hadn’t retreated far enough. I must have been out of my mind to even
consider coming back to this place, I thought. The gossip Cheryl had related
so gleefully was just the sort of thing that had driven me away to start with.
Everyone was so busy enjoying the misfortune of others it was nauseating.
What was it, I wondered, that made so many people so mean spirited?

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I nearly jumped out of my skin when someone knocked at the door.

My belly tightened.

I considered ignoring it. Instead, I moved to the door and opened it a

crack.

Heath was standing on the other side, anger glinting in his eyes, his

jaw set determinedly. Without a word, he placed a large palm on the door
and applied just enough pressure I had to either yield and back up or put my
shoulder against my side.

I let go of the door and moved back.

Heath stepped inside and pushed the door closed behind him without

even glancing at it. Catching my wrist, he tugged until I half fell against
him. “Now that we don’t have an audience...,” he murmured. Dipping his
head, he covered my mouth before I could protest and kissed me ruthlessly.

I’m not sure I was even about to protest, but every thought of doing so

went right out of my head the moment I felt the heat of his mouth on mine.
My body instantly closed the gap between the first kiss and this one, as if
nothing had happened to cool my ardor. The sense of guilt that had been
eating away at my resolve to get laid at any cost when I could be adding
injury to man already down vanished. Uttering a sound of complete
surrender, I wrapped my arms around his neck and tried to get closer.

A firestorm engulfed us, our bodies generating so much heat so

quickly that it was a wonder we didn’t spontaneously combust. The scent of
my perfume and his cologne, the scent of our desires, created an intoxicating
cloud around us.

I fell back against the wall behind me, or he pushed me into it. I

wasn’t sure, but it gave him the leverage he needed to thrust his erection
against me bruisingly. I tilted my hips, trying to expose enough tender flesh
so that he could rub me where I wanted to be stroked. The attempt only
inflamed, and frustrated, both of us.

He caught my thigh with one hand as I lifted it and tried to wrap it

around his waist--which was a teensy bit higher that I’d anticipated. The
foot I was standing on skidded when the ‘hinge’ reached its limit.

Planting his hands beneath my ass, he bumped me a little higher up

the wall so that I could get both legs around his waist.

Now I was too high. I could feel the head of his cock butting my cleft

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but it was way the hell off the mark.

He seemed to realize that at about the same time I did. Wrenching his

lips from mine, he tightened his arms around me and headed for the bed. We
half fell half sprawled across it in a dizzying rush.

We were both still fully clothed, right down to the dress shoes. I

kicked my heels off before I could injure him with them, stroking the sole of
one foot along his leg as he buried his face against my neck. His lips felt
smooth and hot against my skin as he explored my throat and upper chest
with little nibbling bites that made my sex clench frenziedly. The skin all
over the upper half of my body pebbled at the brush of his breath and skin
against me, the fine down lifting to optimize reception of the delightful
sensations.

Encountering the barrier of the neck of my dress, he paused long

enough to scoop my breasts from the cups of my bra. “Beautiful,” he
murmured, kneading them with his hands for a moment before he caught one
excruciatingly sensitive tip between his lips and flicked his tongue across it.
The jolt that went through me made my whole body seize as if I’d just been
hit with a jolt of electricity.

I was still struggling to catch my breath when he moved to its twin

and sent another hard jolt of need through me.

Mindless, I thrashed feverishly beneath him, aware of every part of

his body and yet too sunk in the depths of need to do more than register the
waves of delight that went through me at his every touch. When his hand
slipped between my thighs and cupped my mound, I gasped hoarsely with a
mixture of surprise and pleasure, arching against his palm.

He ceased tormenting the nipple he had been suckling and buried his

face against my neck again. “You’re so wet for me, baby,” he murmured
huskily, sucking a love bite on my neck as he delved beneath my panties and
stroked one long finger along my cleft, parting the tender flesh and nearly
sending me over the edge when he found my clit. I managed a guttural
groan. My fingers curled into him like claws. I was gasping too desperately
for air and too mindless to respond if he’d expected me to manage anything
more verbal.

Dipping his head to catch one nipple in his mouth, he nipped it with

the edge of his teeth as he teased my clit maddeningly, until I was close to

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screaming. Just when I thought I would explode, he moved his finger lower,
sought my opening, pushing the thick digit inside of me.

“God! You’re tight,” he murmured against my breast as the walls of

my sex, deprived of anything more substantial, clenched so frantically at his
finger I wouldn’t have been surprised if I’d heard the bones crack. “…and
hot. You like the feel of my finger inside of you, baby? Does it feel good?”

I licked my dry lips and began a frantic search among his clothes for

what I really wanted, dragging his shirt from his trousers and slipping my
hand beneath his waistband.

“Cock,” I managed to demand in a die away voice, reduced by

mindless need to animalistic grunts and groans. “Now!”

Apparently my urgency communicated itself to him despite my

inability to form a coherent sentence. I heard his shoes drop to the floor as
he burrowed against me and struggled with his belt and zipper. My attempts
to help were more of a hindrance than an aid to his efforts and when I heard
him grinding his teeth, I desisted, shoving my hands beneath his shirt to
stroke his belly and stomach.

Somehow, god only knows how, he managed to spear some part of

his, or my, clothing on the way to the goal. Several desperate moments
followed while our frying brains struggled with the fact that nothing was
actually happening beyond more frustration for both us.

He eased off, grappled with the cloth and then uttered a curse beneath

his breath.

“Condom,” he muttered, abruptly searching his pockets and coming

up empty.

If I’d had my wits about me I would’ve realized in that moment that

he hadn’t actually anticipated it would come to this. As it was, I was ready
to yank the shower curtain down and use that. “You don’t have a condom?”
I asked faintly.

Before he could respond, someone beat on the door authoritatively.

“Management. You’ll have to evacuate. Use the stairs.”

A shock wave rolled over and through both of us. Panting, we lifted

our heads.

I realized then that the persistent noise that I’d thought was ringing in

my ears from lack of sufficient oxygen was actually a fire alarm.

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Heath and I shared a dumbfounded look of disbelief. “Hell!” Heath

muttered and rolled off of me, struggling to catch his breath.

With an effort, I pushed myself up on my elbows, listening. I could

hear the guy moving down the hall, pounding on each door and then
questioning voices and the sound of people filling the hallway.

I’d more than half hoped it would turn out to be nothing more than a

prank.

Sighing, I shoved my dress down and struggled to get up. Heath,

already on his feet and wrestling to put his own clothes in order, grabbed my
hand and hauled me off the bed. Slipping into my heels, I led the way to the
door, opening it a crack and peering out as Heath shoved his feet into his
shoes.

The hall was cluttered with people in various stages of dishabille,

which prompted me to examine my own appearance. My dress was as
crimped and wrinkled as if I’d slept in it. A damp spot, darker than the rest
of the fabric, marked my mound like a bull’s eye. Trying to convince myself
nobody would notice, I brushed at it, checking my hair with one hand and
smoothing at the wrinkles with the other.

I didn’t look at Heath as we left the room and followed the other

guests to the exit and down the stairs. When we got outside, we discovered
we were at the tail end of a mass exodus. People were standing around in
everything from bathrobes and curlers to evening wear. Some looked
groggy, as if they’d been awakened, but a fairly sizeable number looked
much as I suspected Heath and I did, as if they’d been going for the goal
when disaster struck.

I’d already slumped against one of the parked cars before I realized it

was bobbing up and down. Glancing toward the car in surprise, I saw that
steam had formed on every window, so thick that droplets had begun to run
down in rivulets. The lights from the parking lot limned the two naked,
entwined, bouncing figures inside.

A chorus of snickers dragged my attention from the couple and I saw

a group of men clustered around the next car over.

Heath was frowning when I glanced at him questioningly.

It dawned on me abruptly that we hadn’t just coincidently stumbled

upon the couple.

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The juvenile, drunken mentality of the clowns one car over was

evidence enough that they’d thought it would be hilarious to interrupt the
party going in the car I was standing beside. There was no fire. They’d
simply decided to wait until everyone had the chance to get cozy and pulled
the damned alarm.

Within moments, it became obvious that word had traveled through

the gathered crowd about the couple screwing in the parking lot. At almost
the same moment they had gained the full attention of everyone standing
around the lot, the bouncing vehicle went suddenly still and a squeak of
dismay erupted from inside the car as the woman became abruptly aware
that she and her lover had an audience.

Keenly aware of the fact that it wouldn’t take a hard look to see that

Heath and I had been engaged in the same recreation, I moved away from
the car and stalked toward the other side of the hotel parking lot. Nobody
emerged from the car, but I doubted that was really necessary for the locals
to identify them.

“Assholes,” I muttered under my breath, but only partly because of

the unknown, to me anyway, couple.

This was going to be a night to remember, but not in the way I’d

hoped.

Sirens and the harsh blast of horns pierced the night and red lights

combed the area as two fire trucks, a police cruiser, and an ambulance
arrived and parked in front of the hotel. The quiet murmur of the stunned
guests was abruptly overshadowed by the commanding voices of emergency
personnel moving purposefully in and out of the hotel and through the
parking lot.

Shivering as the cool, damp night air wafted over my still overheated

body, I wrapped my arms around myself.

“I’d give you my jacket, but...,” Heath muttered wryly, ending with a

shrug. He moved closer instead, opening his jacket and pulling me against
him for warmth.

His erection was still tenting his trousers, I discovered, feeling another

shiver skate down my back. Frustration washed over me, tamping the
frustrated desire still surging in my blood.

Why hadn’t he brought a condom, I wondered?

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The answer popped in my head almost as soon as the question died.

He wasn’t used to this sort of thing, which meant it was doubtful he’d

been with a woman since his wife had died. As hard as it was for my mind
to wrap itself around that fact, it seemed indisputable.

But then maybe he’d just dropped the condom while we were

thrashing around on the bed?

If I was right, though, and it wasn’t something he’d done enough to

get used to being prepared, then it also seemed to follow that his coming to
my room had been more of an impulse of the moment than a premeditated
decision. Surely, even if he didn’t habitually hunt, if he’d decided before the
evening started that he was going for it, he would have thought through
finding protection?

I didn’t know how I felt about that, but I was relieved when the

manager finally came out and announced an all clear. Without glancing at
Heath as he moved away from me and slipped a palm beneath my elbow to
escort me back inside, I followed the herd as they gathered and bottle necked
briefly at the hotel entrance.

I didn’t feel that my appearance could withstand the harsh glare of the

lights in the lobby and headed toward the stairs again as soon as we were
inside. Heath stayed with me. Part of the guests crossed the lobby to wait
for the elevators. The remainder followed us, filling the stairwell with
subdued chatter and the clatter of feet.

Heath paused with me when I reached my door. Waiting until I’d

fished my key card from my purse, he opened the door for me, holding it
wide while I stepped inside, trying to think of an excuse to fob him off.

“Good night,” he said abruptly, and turned away.

I gaped at his back as he headed toward his own room, oddly put out

that he’d left so brusquely even though I’d been trying to think of a way to
get rid of him. The curious glances of the other guests returning to their
rooms finally penetrated my abstraction, however, and I stepped further into
the privacy of my room and closed the door.

He hadn’t wanted anyone to see him coming into my room, I realized.

The only thing I wasn’t certain of was whether he’d acted to protect me from
gossip or himself.

Who was I to quibble over it, though? He had to live among these

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people.

Shrugging off the thought, I headed for the bed and did a search.

Nothing turned up, supporting the theory that he’d come unprepared for
what had happened.

Deciding I didn’t really want to think about the possible meaning of it,

I undressed and went into the bathroom to prepare for bed.

A look in the mirror produced an unpleasant jolt. My hair, tamed by

the use of hair color to a less garish red, was all over the place, half still up
in pins, the rest dangling around my face. My pale, sensitive skin was red
all the way around my mouth and all over my neck and the exposed portion
of my chest from whisker burn I hadn’t even noticed at the time.

No one who’d actually paid me any attention could be in any doubt of

what I’d been doing just prior to the fire alarm.

Not that I cared. If I’d been worried about gossip, I wouldn’t have

come with fucking on my mind.

To hell with them!

I couldn’t help but wonder as I lay down in the bed if Heath was

waiting until the furor died down to sneak over to my room, but although I
lay staring at the ceiling for hours, I finally dropped off without hearing the
tap I was hoping for.

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33

Chapter Five

I was trying to decide whether to get up or roll over and sleep a while

longer when the phone rang the next morning. The sound jangled along my
nerves like fingernails on a chalk board. Groaning, I rolled over and felt
around for the thing blindly, almost dropping the receiver.

“--lo?” I managed to say once I had it against my head, my voice still

a little hoarse with sleep.

“Carrie?”

The voice sounded far away. Holding the receiver out, I blinked the

blurriness from my eyes and stared at it hard for several moments before
righting it and pressing it against my ear again. “Yeah?”

“The bus will be here in ten minutes. You’re coming, aren’t you?”

Heath’s voice roused me to a slightly higher consciousness.

“Where?”

“The hole.”

I managed to put ‘coming’ and ‘hole’ together in my mind, but

somehow I had the feeling that what he was talking about was worlds away
from what I was thinking about. “The hole?” I asked faintly.

He chuckled huskily. “I woke you up, didn’t I?”

Einstein! “No,” I lied.

“The picnic?” he prodded me gently. “We’re going down to the

spring.”

Searching my mind, I finally remembered that a picnic and swimming

were on the agenda for the day. I couldn’t arouse any enthusiasm for it,
however.

The ‘in’ crowd had regularly sneaked off to the spring to skinny dip in

the old days. None of the other kids had been welcome, although some had
brazenly invaded anyway.

There’d been almost as many territorial fights over the springs as

there had been sexual trysts.

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I wasn’t one of them, and I’d actually been looking forward to my

first invitation to join the ‘in’ crowd in their own special place. Somehow,
though, after my foiled night, I wasn’t feeling much like getting chummy
with my old school mates. Whoever had been in that car was going to be
catching most of the flack, if they showed themselves, but there was no
doubt in my mind that grinning, knowing faces were going to follow me
throughout the day. “I’ll see you downstairs,” I muttered finally.

When I’d hung up the phone, I rolled over and pulled my pillow over

my head, determined now to go back to sleep, or sulk in the room all day.

The phone rang again. I tried to ignore it, but there was just no

ignoring anything that annoying. Tossing the pillow aside, I sat up and
grabbed it on the third ring. “Yes?”

“Awake now?”

Heath’s voice had an edge this time.

“I was already awake,” I retorted sulkily. “I can’t get ready if I’m on

the phone.”

“You can’t get ready if you lay in the bed either.”

My head ached, I realized belatedly. I pounced on the excuse.

“Actually, I’m feeling a little under the weather this morning. I was thinking
maybe I’d pass.”

The silence on the other end of the line was almost deafening.

“Coward,” he muttered finally.

Anger erupted almost instantly. Denials sprang to my lips and went

unuttered. He was right. Forced to acknowledge that only part of my
reluctance to go stemmed from my depression over the way the night had
gone, I realized I was letting them get to me again. “Fine! I’ll be ready in a
few minutes,” I snapped.

When I’d hung up, I rolled out of the bed and dashed into the

bathroom. Deciding makeup would probably be a waste of time, I applied
the bare minimum and dashed back into the room to find something to wear.

I’d brought a swimming suit. If I put it on under clothing I was going

to be lumpy and uncomfortable. If I didn’t, I’d have to dress in the woods.
That didn’t particularly appeal to me either, but it occurred to me that I’d
have to regardless if I went swimming because I couldn’t put my clothes
back on over a wet swimming suit. Dropping the swimming suit back into

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the suitcase, I slipped into a pair of shorts and a short knit top. I’d just
headed back to the bathroom to top off my makeup when someone knocked
at the door.

It was Heath, I discovered.

His eyes were tired, as if he hadn’t slept much better than I had, but he

still looked good enough to eat. The knit shirt he was wearing was snug
across the chest, shoulders and upper arms, revealing a well defined and
muscular upper body. His shorts exposed tan, muscular legs than looked as
toned as they had when he was a teenager.

He gave me a slow once over that brought my blood up to a slow

simmer.

“Got your suit?”

“I don’t think I’m going swimming.”

He glanced past me, his gaze zeroing in on the open suitcase and the

suit lying on top. Pushing past me, he grabbed it, examined it with interest
and finally headed into the bathroom to grab a towel. “In case you change
your mind,” he responded to my look of disbelief, grabbing my arm and
ushering me toward the door.

“My purse!”

He paused. “You need it?”

“To get back into the room, yes.”

Shrugging, he glanced around for it, then strode to the bedside table

and grabbed that up and tucked it beneath his arm with the towel and swim
suit. “Ready?”

Not really, but I allowed him to escort me to the elevator, wondering a

little vaguely how he’d managed to maneuver me into doing this when I
really hadn’t wanted to. For that matter, I wasn’t entirely certain of how it
had come about that we seemed to have become ‘dates’ for the weekend.

Not that I had any interest in any other man attending the reunion, but

I hadn’t envisioned anything quite like this when I’d been making plans and
I couldn’t help but wonder how my plan, beautiful in its simplicity, had gone
so awry. By now, I should’ve been bathing in the afterglow of a frantic
coupling between the two of us. Instead, my body was complaining loudly
of frustrated passion, twanging discordantly with each inadvertent brush
against the object of my desire.

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The sense of waking in the Twilight Zone deepened as we stepped out

the door of the hotel and I saw a school bus lumbering up to the front.
Blinking in dismay, I glanced at Heath.

He favored me with a lopsided grin and a shrug. “It’s transportation. I

guess they figured it would bring back fond memories,” he added wryly.

For whom? Certainly not the people that had had to ride the damned

thing! Heath, like the other ‘rich kids’ had had a car to drive throughout most
of high school. For me, and I suspected a lot of the others, it had been a
source of torture that began and ended each day, an opportunity for bullies to
further torment their victims out of sight of the teachers--who usually
pretended to be blind to their antics anyway. Beyond that, the bus was there
for the poor and only emphasized the gap between those who came from
well-to-do or wealthy families and the poor and downtrodden.

Sighing, I got into the tail of the line that formed up.

Cheryl opened a window and poked her head out. “Come on, you

two. We saved you a seat!”

Heath and I exchanged a speaking glance.

Frowning, his hand tightened on my arm, holding me in place so that

everyone else began to flow around us. As the bus filled to overflowing,
Heath dragged me out of the line and dashed toward a second bus that was
pulling up. I didn’t resist, but I had a hard time getting into the spirit of it.

We managed to climb in before it, too, filled. Heath headed toward

the back of the bus. Giving me the window seat, he slid in beside me,
dropping an arm across the back of the seat.

As I stared out the window meditatively, I felt a hand in my hair.

“It’s darker than I remember it.”

The comment piqued my interest, the part about him remembering.

Was it good that he remembered? Or bad that his memory seemed to be a
little hazy? “My husband always said it looked like--” I broke off abruptly,
not because I’d brought HIM up, which did irritate me since I’d promised
myself I’d keep this as impersonal as possible, but because it occurred to me
that it would sound as if I was fishing for sympathy if I told him Doug had
considered the natural color ‘trashy.’

The fact was, I’d felt pretty much the same way about the color of my

hair, which was why I’d changed it, not to please the asshole or to get him

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off my case.

He withdrew, physically and otherwise. I could feel it without even

looking at him. “Your husband?”

The tightness in his voice was condemning. It shouldn’t have made

me mad. It was my own damned fault. I’d given him the wrong impression,
after all, but I had this unreasonable resentment that I’d fallen short in his
opinion of me when I wasn’t actually guilty of what he thought. It didn’t
make me feel any better that I felt the same way about cheaters as he did.

And probably for the same reason.

The irrational urge to make things worse pricked at me, mostly, I

suppose, because of my resentment at feeling like I had to defend myself
when I wasn’t guilty of anything.

“You’re not wearing a ring,” he commented after a moment.

“I never did--not even when I was married to the bastard. People can

be married without the rings, you know.”

He settled back as the bus began its jolting progress out of the parking

lot and up to the highway.

“Why didn’t you just say your ex husband?” he muttered irritably

after several moments.

Dragging my attention from the fascinating view outside the window,

I sent him a narrow eyed glance. “Maybe because I don’t like being
judged?”

His lips tightened, bringing the dimple in one cheek into display. I’d

always loved that dimple. It fascinated me the way it appeared and then
vanished from one expression to the next. I suppose I was artistic minded,
because I found it all the more appealing that it didn’t have a mate on the
other side. Somehow, that seemed to make it more special.

It irritated me that I remembered that at that moment.

He scrubbed a hand over his lower face ruefully. “I’m sorry I brought

it up. It’s just....” He frowned. “Stupid.”

I lifted my brows questioningly at that.

He shook his head. “It’s the reunion, I guess. It’s hard to believe so

many years have passed, and so much has changed--for everyone.”

I bit my lip and looked out the window. I wasn’t going there. He’d

left himself wide open, but I wasn’t taking the bait. I didn’t want to know

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the gory details of his tragic life even if he felt like unburdening himself.
Keep it simple, Carrie! Keep it impersonal! “Mmmhmm,” I murmured
nonspecifically. “This place has really changed,” I added, inspired to
brilliance by my need to change the subject.

“I guess it was inevitable you’d hear the gossip if you were in town

more than five minutes,” he said after a long pause.

I didn’t look at him that time. I was scrambling to think of a response

that would keep him from going down that road without making me
sounding callous. Because I really, really didn’t want to get my emotions
caught up in this weekend interlude. It wasn’t supposed to turn out like this.

What to say?

My, it looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day!

God! I’m sorry about what happened!

I was afraid if I offered sympathy, though, he’d either go all sensitive

male on me and break down and start blubbering, which I found very
uncomfortable and a complete turnoff, or he’d try to be manful about it,
which would make me blubber, because nothing aroused my empathy more
acutely than someone in pain and trying to be stoic about it.

I suppose that made me a cold hearted bitch, but I’d always figured

that people who felt sorry for themselves had enough pity going for them.
They didn’t need sympathy from others.

“The main thing I always hated about this place was the gossip,” I

said finally. “I try to tune it out, even if people are determined to tell me
things, because I like my privacy and I assume other people do, too.”

He was silent for several moments. “You didn’t wonder, even briefly,

if I’d had anything to do with it?”

I turned to look at him in astonishment, studying his face for some

clue of what was going through his mind. “No,” I said finally. “No one who
ever really knew you would think that even for a moment.”

He looked surprised. Slowly, a smile began to curl his lips, but there

was wryness to it and a healthy dose of skepticism. “You’re so certain you
know me?”

“Yes.”

His dark brows rose. “Everybody’s capable of murder under the right

circumstances, or so I’m told.”

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“Exactly. I’m fairly certain I’m capable of it. The thing is, though,

you aren’t underhanded, and you aren’t sly, and you aren’t a coward. That
kind of person does that sort of thing. Not someone like you.”

He looked surprised but pleased. “What kind of person am I then?”

I grinned at him, pleased that I’d managed to avoid the ugly thing I

hadn’t really wanted to face and amused that he was fishing for
compliments. “Somebody who doesn’t need his ego stroked.”

He chuckled, but grimaced. “I think I do.”

I studied his face. I really liked studying it. “A throw back.”

“Neanderthal, huh?”

I burst out laughing. “Not that far back. I was thinking about the age

of chivalry and honor.”

Dark color flooded his face. I should have been ashamed, but his

blush delighted me.

“That’s a hard thing to try to live up to.”

“The thing is, you never seemed to have any trouble living up to it at

all,” I said, growing incautious as I got into the spirit of the thing. “I think
that’s why I lov--had such a crush on you. Back then, I mean,” I added,
feeling my own face light up like a fireworks display.

“You had a crush on me?”

I covered my face with my hands, hoping to cool the heat in my

cheeks. “You knew I did,” I muttered, thoroughly irritated with myself.
“You told me that Cheryl had opened her big mouth.”

He chuckled. “Uh .. I lied.”

I took my hands down and stared at him. “Which part?”

“The part about conspiring with Cheryl to steal a kiss. I didn’t know

Maryanne was going to come up with that little game.”

“The whole thing, you mean?” I felt … deflated.

“Sort of.” He grimaced. “You may or may not know it, but Maryanne

and I were off and on most of our junior and senior years. Every time we
split, and I thought about trying to hook up with you, you were dating
someone else. About half way through senior year I finally figured out it
just wasn’t working with Maryanne. We fought more than we got along. By
that time, though, I found out you were seeing a college kid. I thought it
might be serious, but then you broke up with him just before the end of the

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year. I figured it was my last chance before we went off to college, so I
cornered Cheryl and told her I wanted to get with you. That’s why she’d
gotten you over to the bleachers to start with. Unfortunately, I collected the
others on the way to the rendezvous and couldn’t shake them. I didn’t want
to show up with them, but I was afraid if I didn’t show at all, Cheryl would
tell you and you’d think I was just trying to string you along, that I’d
intentionally arranged a meeting just to stand you up.

“So, Cheryl and I didn’t actually conspire on the game, but we were

both there with a purpose and went with the flow.”

“You wanted to go out with me?” I echoed in disbelief, trying to

remember anything that had happened that I could’ve misinterpreted. It was
a waste of time. I’d put senior year so completely from my mind the only
memories I did have were the bad ones I hadn’t been able to shake.

I felt immensely better, though, knowing he actually had noticed I was

alive. Almost better than that, he’d noticed I wasn’t exactly a wallflower
even if everybody did make fun of my red hair and freckles.

He shrugged. “Water under the bridge, I suppose.”

But it was my damned bridge! I thought indignantly.

I stopped that train of thought abruptly. I didn’t want to speculate at

this late date on how things might have been different if only.

“But you had a crush on me, huh?”

I rolled my eyes. “Were there any girls that didn’t?” I asked dryly.

He looked genuinely surprised. “There were others?”

I studied him for a long moment and finally shook my head. Men

could be so incredibly dense! No wonder they had such a hard time reading
signals! Women needed frigging signs!

“When did you get a crush on me?”

The first time I ever set eyes on him, which was about five minutes

after I arrived in town. I sighed, but just shrugged. “You were an ugly kid,
you know. It took a while, but you grew on me.”

He frowned, stroking his face absently, the cheek with the dimple.

“Because of this?”

“What?”

“The pit?”

He was actually serious, I realized with a mixture of surprise and

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dismay. It never ceased to amaze the things that made people feel insecure
about their appearance … or proud, for that matter. It just went to show that
people weren’t all that good a judge of themselves. “I was teasing. You
weren’t ugly.”

He didn’t look convinced.

I wrestled with my demons a moment. This was getting in way

deeper than I’d planned and it was a dead end street I didn’t want to get
trapped on. On the other hand, I wasn’t comfortable with the idea that I’d
just romped all over one of his secret insecurities. “Of all your physical
attributes, that’s my favorite.” I thought about that a moment. “So far.”

He shifted uncomfortably at that, opened his mouth as if he was about

to say something and then closed it again.

Why, I wondered, had I never seen this side of him? He had a shy

streak about a mile wide and I’d totally missed it. I don’t know what threw
me more, the fact that I hadn’t noticed the cute little quirk or the fact that it
was there at all.

After mulling it over for a few moments, I gave myself a mental

smack. Because he’d lost his mother and that had rocked his world, yanked
his sense of security right out from him. With everything else he had going
for him, which as far as I could see was everything, it hadn’t occurred to me
that he possibly could have doubts about himself.

I steered the conversation in a more cheerful, less personal, direction

after that. He cooperated, whether because he finally realized I was troubled
by it, or because he’d grown uncomfortable I wasn’t sure and I didn’t
particularly care as long as we got back on track.

Getting laid would be good for both of us, I decided, dismissing my

qualms from the night before. He’d never been a player, even though he
certainly could have been, and still wasn’t as far as I knew--the condom
thing seemed indicative of that because he also wasn’t irresponsible--
responsible teens did not grow into irresponsible adults--so I figured he was
long overdue for a lighthearted, no strings, rumble in the sheets just to clean
the pipes.

It would give him a brighter outlook.

Coincidentally, it would give me one, too, but I decided there was

certainly no reason to lay a guilt trip on myself for going after what I

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wanted.

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Chapter Six

Even though I wasn’t a part of the crowd that partied there, the ‘hole’

was a familiar place to everyone in the area and many counties surrounding
it, for that matter. I was pleased to see it looked much like I remembered.
The buses pulled over to the side of the narrow back road that led passed it
and everyone got up and filed off.

A sense of going back through time seemed to grip the majority of the

picnic party. A good half a dozen grown men let out rebel yells and charged
across the highway toward the spring as if they were teenagers, or younger,
instead of adults. I felt a bit more lighthearted myself, though not so much
that I felt any impulse to behave like I was seventeen again.

Actually, I supposed I hadn’t behaved like seventeen when I was

seventeen. I’d been too self-conscious about my dignity and had been
mortified on the occasions when my youth and inexperience had led me to
behave childishly.

A ‘beach’ had been beaten down along the edge of the spring from

many years of nearly constant coming and going. Most of the party gathered
there, marking the territory they’d claimed by settling the things they’d
brought with them. The juveniles among us--probably the same group that
had pulled the prank the night before--shucked their shirts and dove in.

I headed to the bank to peer down into the spring.

It was amazingly deceptive. The water, crystal clear and freezing

cold, made it easy to look down at the cave below where the water erupted,
even though, from what I’d been told, the cave was almost 150 feet below
ground level. The water formed a pool at surface level roughly the size of a
large swimming pool, and then spilled out into the swiftly moving river that
edged it.

Divers had gone into the cave to explore years earlier. They’d died

there.

Shivering, I moved away from the edge and looked around for a place

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to sit and sun. “You really aren’t going in?” Heath asked disapprovingly as I
spread the towel he’d brought for me out on the ground and settled on it.

“The water’s freezing,” I reminded him.

Dropping his rolled towel beside me, he sat down on the bare dirt and

glanced around at the others as if mentally counting heads. “There’s a spot
along the river where the current isn’t too bad.”

I rolled my eyes. “I saw five people take off down the trail as soon as

we landed. They’ll be skinny dipping, mark my words.”

He grinned. “We can, too.”

I studied him from beneath half closed eyelids. “I’m not really ‘in’ to

that sort of group activity.”

He leaned back, bracing himself on one elbow. “So--we go a little

further.”

It was tempting. The idea of being alone with him and naked revved

my engines, which hadn’t actually cooled that much over the long, lonely
night.

Someone was bound to notice if we slipped off, though, and I

wouldn’t have been willing to bet two cents that they’d respect our desire for
privacy. We’d have an audience and or cheering section before we could
turn around.

He had to know that.

I shrugged. I didn’t mind the idea of a little foreplay in the water, but

he would find he was sadly mistaken if he thought I had any intentions of a
getting splinters, or poison ivy, up my ass romping in the woods. “Bold and
blatant? Or sneaky?”

He thought it over briefly. “What the hell? Blatant,” he said, getting

up and reaching for my hand to help me to my feet.

Grabbing the towels, we crossed the crowded clearing and headed

along the narrow path that ran close to the river’s edge, both of us, I think,
acutely conscious of the interested gazes following us. As the voices behind
us dulled with distance, new voices ahead of us guided us to the ‘spot’.
About a dozen people, all naked as jay birds, were splashing and screaming
along the river’s edge and taking turns with the swing--a knotted rope that
had been tied high in a tree that grew on the bank of the river. We paused
when we reached the edge of the little clearing, watching as the guys played

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at Tarzan, taking turns swinging out over the river and dropping into it
among the cheers and jeers of their playmates.

Heath caught my arm. Placing a finger over his lips, he led me

through a tangle of brush and picked up another narrow trail just beyond the
clearing to an even smaller clearing just a little further down river.

A fit of nerves hit me when we paused, staring at one another, dimly

aware of the voices just up stream. I wasn’t in to exhibitionism, but I wasn’t
particularly self-conscious in a general way. Regardless, I experienced
sudden doubts and tension that had nothing to do with an acute attack of
modesty. I was a long way from flawless perfection and the stark,
unforgiving light of day wasn’t going to soften those imperfections, but my
thoughts were more attuned to the inherent ‘danger’ of the situation.

The prospect made me a little breathless as I began to remove my

clothing slowly.

Heath seemed to freeze, to hold his breath. Instead of undressing as I

was, he simply watched me with unblinking fascination. I paused when I’d
removed my blouse and shorts, wondering if I really wanted to get
completely naked. Finally, since I could see Heath was still waiting in
breathless anticipation, I reached behind my back and unfastened my bra,
allowing the straps to slip down my arms. Dropping the bra on top of the
growing pile of clothing, I peeled my thong off and discarded that, too.

When I looked at Heath again, he blinked, as if coming out of a

trance, looked around the area and, frowning, began to peel his own clothes
off.

I wanted to stare at him as blatantly as he’d watched me, but the

tension grew so excruciating I found I couldn’t stand still. My pulse was
racing and the temptation to simply walk into his arms was nearly
overwhelming.

And I wasn’t doing it in the woods, I reminded myself.

As he peeled his shorts down, I strolled past him and smacked his

tight little ass playfully before diving into the water. When I emerged a few
moments later, Heath was still standing on the bank.

The view was spectacular. I tensed all over and forgot I wasn’t

standing on the river bottom. I came up coughing and spluttering, acutely
aware that I’d just blown the sophisticated pose I’d been at such pains to

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project.

Heath was frowning. “You OK?”

“Yes,” I managed to choke out.

He tensed, as if about to dive in with me, but abruptly stilled and

glanced around again. “Just a minute,” he muttered, turning and gathering
up his own pile of clothes and then mine. While I watched, dumbfounded,
he searched the clearing and finally moved to a fallen tree. After stepping
onto it and bouncing experimentally a couple of times, he got off and raked
around the edge with a branch. Apparently satisfied there were no snakes
curled under it, he wrapped his towel around the mound of clothes, shoved
them under the edge of the fallen tree and pushed debris over the stash.

I got a mouthful of water as he took a flying leap and cannon balled

into the water right beside me.

“What was that all about?” I demanded when I’d caught my breath.

He grinned. “The idea of searching for our clothes when we were

ready to get out didn’t especially appeal to me.”

I stared at him, realizing belatedly that we’d probably come close to a

humiliating experience. He was right. It was just like those jackasses to
sneak over and steal our clothes while we were occupied in the water.

Because there was virtually no hope that we had completely evaded

detection.

“Good thinking,” I said, grinning back at him and then shoving him

backwards in the water. “That was for the tidal wave,” I added when he
came up spluttering.

He gave me a look filled with intent and reached for me. I gasped in a

lungful of air and dove, smacking him on the ass again as I swam past him
under water.

He caught my ankle, jerking me to a halt and then dragging me back

by one leg. We were both breathless by the time we surfaced. He recovered
first. Laughing, he grabbed me around the waist, hauled close, wrapping his
arms around me to trap me. We bobbed together in the water, our bodies
gently brushing.

For a handful of heartbeats, I looked up into the boyish, carefree face I

remembered, the one that had haunted my dreams for years. Slowly, as we
studied one another, our laughter died and desire took its place. Heat flashed

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over me, so molten I was a little surprised it didn’t set the water to boiling.
He swallowed thickly. “You like my ass?” he asked with an attempt at
teasing lightness.

“Mmmhmm,” I murmured, reaching down to cup a rounded cheek in

each hand. “It’s so cute and round and nicely packed.”

He arched one dark brow. “Cute?”

I forced a chuckle. “It’s a manly ass,” I corrected myself.

He slipped his hands downward and cupped my buttocks, pulling me

snugly against his lower belly and one very hard erection. “This is cute,” he
said, massaging my buttocks gently.

I fought the urge to wrap my legs around him and try to mount his

shaft right then and there. We couldn’t tread water and fuck, though, I
reminded myself. Compromising, I slipped a hand between us and guided
his engorged cock between my legs, clamping my thighs tightly around it.
“And this is nice,” I murmured, nuzzling the center of his chest and then
sucking a love bite on one hard male breast. A shudder went through him.

He slipped a hand beneath my chin, forcing me to look up at him.

When I did, he covered my mouth in a searing kiss that seemed to suck
every ounce of strength from me.

Distracted from the need to tread water, we bobbed under at just about

the time I was really getting into it. Heath pushed off from the river bottom,
sending us shooting upward again. When I looked around I discovered we’d
drifted downstream while we were engaged in driving each other mad with
unrequited desire.

Shoving against his chest, I broke his grip on me and headed back

upstream to the place where we’d entered the water. More slowly, Heath
followed.

I saw without a lot surprise but with a good deal of irritation that we

had company when I reached the break in the brush that constituted the
clearing on the bank.

Maryanne was standing on the bank, her hands on her hips, a smirk on

her lips. It took me several moments to recognize the man behind her,
Heath’s best buddy from the old days, Bobby McNeal.

“We didn’t interrupt anything, did we?” Maryanne cooed.

I glanced at Heath as he paused and treaded water. When I looked at

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Maryanne again I saw that she was surprised and not especially pleased to
discover I’d been romping with Heath.

“No,” Heath responded before I could, his voice tight. “We were just

going to search for food.”

I didn’t especially like the idea of climbing out naked in front of the

two of them, but they didn’t make any move to leave and I wasn’t about to
let the bitch think I was intimidated by her. Setting my jaw, I swam toward
the bank and emerged with as much unconcern as I could muster. Bobby, I
saw when I’d wrung the water from my hair and glanced their way, was
studying me with patent interest.

Maryanne elbowed him in the gut as I stalked past them and headed

for the place where Heath had hidden our clothes. Heath, I saw when I
turned to see where he’d gotten off to, was heading toward me, his face as
dark as a thundercloud.

A finger of doubt wiggled through me. Was he mad at me? Or

Maryanne? Or just angry because he figured everybody would me gossiping
about our little interlude?

He said nothing, but he moved to stand between me and the others as

he took the towel I held out and dried himself off. Trying not to let my
imagination run away with me, I presented him with my back and pulled my
clothes on.

We made the trip back in silence and there was nothing

companionable or easygoing about it. Heath was royally pissed off and I
began to think a lot of that, if not all of it, was focused on me.

He seemed to make a tremendous effort to shake it off as we neared

the ‘hole’ once more, but I was more relieved than disappointed when the
picnic wound to a close and we loaded up to return to the hotel.

We parted when we reached the door to my room. Heath didn’t ask to

come in and I was too proud to ask him. Angry that he was mad with me, I
swept into the room and slammed the door behind me. Tossing by wet towel
in the general direction of the bathroom, I stalked across the room to the bed
and flopped down on the edge. “I’m never going to get laid at this rate,” I
muttered to myself, trying to figure out how and why everything seemed to
go flat when Maryanne arrived on the scene.

Evidently, there was still something between those two, I finally

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decided. Or maybe they had a recent history? They’d gotten together and
split over and over during high school, as Heath had verified.

Was she his first true love, I wondered?

I had never really given it that much thought--except that she was in

my damned way--but I had to admit to myself that I’d never completely
gotten over mine--Heath--and I knew a lot of people who hadn’t.

Look at Cheryl! She’d been crazy about Trevor as far back as I’d

known her and, in spite of everything, they’d eventually gotten together and
were still together.

It seriously sucked to realize I hadn’t managed to arrive on the scene

until after the great love of his life, but then, would it have made any
difference anyway? If they were ‘meant’ for each other, wouldn’t he have
just dumped me when she came along, assuming we’d managed to get
together at all?

Settling more comfortably on the bed, I struggled to put that kind of

thoughts from my mind. It wasn’t like I’d come to town, this time, with no
idea about the history. For that matter, I reminded myself, I hadn’t come
with any intention of trying to make something happen that hadn’t happened
when I’d so desperately wanted it.

There was danger here I hadn’t anticipated, though. Truthfully, I

suppose I had, but I’d dismissed it. I’d come to expel the old ghosts, but in
the back of my mind I’d been fearful I would only succeed in resurrecting
things left buried. That was why I’d psyched myself up to just nail him and
run like hell.

Sighing, I tried to decide whether I was better off wrestling with my

demons in private or if there was any chance mingling with my old school
chums in the lobby would chase them back into the dark corners of my
mind.

I didn’t really feel up to listening to them going on and on about their

lives, I finally decided. Besides, I was tired, keyed up, but depression, and
fresh air and swimming together had taken a toll when I still wasn’t
completely a hundred percent from the trip down. I surprised myself by
actually dozing. When I woke a little over an hour later, I felt better.

This was at least in part because I’d managed, somehow, to regroup

and refocus while I was sleeping. I’d come with a plan. I was going to

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execute said plan if I had to rape the damned man--tonight. Because, come
hell or high water, I was hightailing it back to my burrow first thing in the
morning. The Sunday evening program was supposed to be a re-creation of
prom night and I sure as hell didn’t want to go to that! It had been bad
enough the first time around.

Feeling a strangely unsettling need to escape, or at least plan my

escape, I called the front desk to let them know I planned to check out first
thing in the morning. After a little thought, remembering I’d promised
myself I wasn’t getting back on the plane for the return trip, I called the car
rental place and asked them if I could turn the car in back home. Once I had
that all settled, I took stock of my battle supplies and began my primpathon
for the evening banquet with a long, leisurely soak in the tub. The phone
rang while I was soaking, but I ignored it. I also ignored the banging on my
door some time later.

I suspected it was Heath, but I figured he might as well cool his heels

awhile longer. Maybe, if he had enough time to stew over it, he’d figure out
I didn’t really want to get into the whys and wherefores of his behavior
earlier. If I’d somehow offended him, which it seemed to me his anger was
directed at me, then I didn’t care why or how. As far as I was concerned, I
hadn’t done anything to warrant it and I had no intention of apologizing to
him for some imagined wrong. If he was angry at Maryanne about showing
up for a little hanky panky, then that was also his problem and something I
didn’t want to talk about.

As hard as I worked at dragging out my preparations, I still ended up

with time to kill. Shrugging, I turned the TV on and set about giving myself
a manicure and a pedicure.

I hoped he appreciated all of the effort I was expending on this.

Ordinarily, I was a dash and go sort of gal. I made it a point to primp a little
before work everyday, nothing too time consuming but enough to look like I
was as ‘in’ to girly things like shopping as my customers were so that they
felt like I could relate to them. I didn’t particularly consider my labors for
this occasion a special treat therefore. It was work, plain and simple.

I did hope it would earn me a special treat, however, and I figured I’d

know by morning whether it had been worth the trouble or not. If the game
plan proved to be successful, then I might consider this sort of thing worth

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filling away for future reference.

TV had a sort hypnotic, or maybe narcotic, effect on me. Once

something on the tube managed to catch my attention, I went no brain until
something else snapped me out of it. I wasn’t certain what had flipped my
switch, but the next thing I knew I blinked, glanced at the clock and
discovered I was about to be late--again.

“Well hell!” I muttered, scrambling off the bed and dashing to the

bathroom to finish my makeup. I’d brought water proof everything. If
things went my way I expected a lot of puffing and heaving to be going on
and everyday makeup just didn’t stack up very well against hard earned
sweat. When I’d squeezed into the most indecent thing I’d been able to find
for an evening of trolling for dick, I decided just to leave my hair down.

After an examination in the mirror assured me that I looked like a

high class slut, I grabbed my purse and headed out. Heath was no where in
sight.

I took that as a bad sign, but decided to head down anyway.

I didn’t realize how tense I was about the whole thing until I got to the

lobby and spotted Heath waiting just outside the ballroom, but I didn’t
completely relax until he stood away from the column he’d been propping
up and headed straight toward me. I suffered more doubt than I liked
wondering if he was waiting for me or just loitering.

I supposed, if I’d been like most females I would’ve been insulted that

he seemed to just assume the two of us were an item for the duration, even if
we had had a fight, sort of, earlier, but I didn’t resent it and saw no reason to
pretend I did.

His gaze moved over me slowly as he approached. Fortunately, I was

too preoccupied with my anxieties to go all awkward and gawky and fall
down. “You look beautiful,” he murmured, settling a hand possessively
along my waist.

Pleasure and relief both filled me. “Thank you! You too!”

He chuckled at that, coloring faintly. “I’m beautiful? Men are

supposed to be handsome.”

“Some are,” I retorted. “And then there’s beautiful.”

‘You’ll have to explain the difference to me later,” he murmured in a

low voice near my ear that sent delightful shivers of awareness through me.

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“I’d rather show you,” I whispered back, taking the opportunity to

tease his ear with the tip of my tongue.

He jumped, glancing around at the people surging toward the same

door we were from every direction and finally merely squeezed me little
more tightly against him.

“Carrie!”

Turning to see who’d called my name, I spotted Cheryl and her

husband a little behind us. “Save us a seat?”

Giving in to the unavoidable, I glanced at Heath to see if he had a

problem with it and finally nodded when he merely shrugged. I tried to be
philosophical about it. Cheryl was certainly no bigger gossip than anybody
else around here and we would be sharing the table with someone.

I wasn’t sure why I didn’t especially want to renew my acquaintance

with Cheryl. I supposed, though, that it was part and parcel with my original
qualifications when I’d decided to come. I didn’t want to take more baggage
back with me. I’d come to offload.

Or maybe it was because she was a prime example of just how

impossible it was to recapture the past and represented something I didn’t
want to face? Because we had nothing that I could see in common now and
I had to wonder if we ever had or if both of us had just been so needy for a
companion we’d latched onto each other for want of a more compatible
crony.

I was sorry I’d caved in when we finally took our seats. My ass had

barely touched down when Cheryl began excavating to see what skeletons
she could dig up.

“I’m so glad we’ll finally get the chance to talk!”

I managed a smile, bracing myself.

“Where do you live now?”

Somebody had sent me that invitation, so I knew it wasn’t exactly a

secret. “Athens,” I supplied succinctly glancing around a little
uncomfortably at the other people settling at the table. Some of them I
recognized fairly quickly. The others I wasn’t really sure about but I finally
decided that they were either people I hadn’t known in school, or spouses of
the people I recognized but didn’t actually remember. In any case, they
didn’t seem particularly interested in me or Cheryl and I relaxed fractionally.

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Cheryl frowned, but in a moment her face cleared. “That’s north of

Atlanta, isn’t it? It’s a college town--Hey! You moved back to your home
town!”

I managed to smile more easily that time. “Actually, it’s more east

than north of Atlanta,” I said easily when the servers arrived with salads,
ignoring the rest of the question.

“What do you do?”

Who hadn’t known that was coming? “I sell lady’s apparel.” Strictly

speaking, I suppose it was resell since I had a used clothing store, but I
didn’t see that it was anything she needed to know.

Her brows rose. “You’re sales clerk?” she prodded.

I studied her with a touch of irritation, entirely unable to keep the

sarcasm out of my reply. “That’s what that usually means.”

I felt a little guilty after I’d said it, but that didn’t last because her next

question made it obvious that she didn’t snub easily. “What store?”

“Mine.”

Her eyes widened. She started to chuckle. “Why didn’t you say that

in the first place?”

Maybe because I didn’t really want to talk about it, Einstein?

I

thought, feeling my annoyance grow.

“What sort of things do you sell?”

I gave her a look.

“I mean--is it like a lingerie shop? Dress shop? Sports wear?”

“I sell the designer clothes of bored rich women to wannabes who

can’t afford full price and formals and weddings gowns from same to high
school and college kids, etc.,” I said testily.

Her eyes widened. “Cool! Did you hear that, Trevor? Designer stuff!

You’re doing well, then?”

I smiled thinly. “I get by.”

“Who did you marry?”

My stomach tightened into a knot. I didn’t glance at Heath. “A guy.”

Cheryl snickered. “Thank god! Somebody you met in college?”

“He was in the military.”

She looked intrigued, but instead of pursuing that vein any further, hit

with the next question on her list. “Still married?”

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“Nope.”

“Kids?”

“Nope.”

She gaped at me. “You didn’t have kids?”

“Was I supposed to?” I asked, keeping my voice even with an effort.

“Excuse me for a minute?” I have to go to the bathroom and puke.

I was already in the lady’s room before I realized just how rattled I

was by the third degree I’d just undergone. It was more than just reluctance
to get too personal. Cheryl had picked apart my entire life and made it look
empty and pointless when I’d felt like I was perfectly content.

I was content, I assured myself. I was just angry that Cheryl had been

so hell bent and determined to take my life out and examine it in front of
Heath.

That was only part of it, though, I realized after a few minutes. Most

of it was her determination to rub my nose in the fact that I was over thirty
and had never had a child.

I’d carefully ignored my ticking clock for years. When Doug and I

had gotten married, I hadn’t been any more interested in adding a baby to the
equation than he was. And then the shop and the ongoing renovation project
had consumed me after the marriage had started falling apart.

It irked the shit out of me that Doug had knocked up his little

girlfriend before our divorce was even finalized, though. That had hurt. He
didn’t want to have a baby with me, but he did with her? Why her and not
me?

I shook that thought off, realizing I was just working myself up

instead of seeking the calm I’d come to look for. Cool water on my face
would probably have helped, but I wasn’t that confident about my
waterproof make up and I wasn’t going back in that damned ballroom
looking like I’d been in the lady’s room bawling.

That thought jugged me in the ass.

Expecting Cheryl to appear any minute to see how much damage

she’d done, I shoved my hands under the cool water and then patted my hot
cheeks with the damp paper towel. Tossing it, I headed out again.

Heath was loitering near the door. “You alright?” he asked, his face

creased with concern.

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“Sure,” I responded airily. “Just checking to make sure I didn’t have

spinach in my teeth like Cheryl did. I suffer paranoia over these things.”

He looked at me blankly for a moment. Finally, a faint smile dawned.

Ignoring the concern that still darkened his eyes, I headed back to the table.

Cheryl gave me a worried look when I sat down. “Are you all right?”

It took an effort to refrain from gritting my teeth. “Why wouldn’t I

be?” I asked with feigned surprise. “Where were we? Oh! We didn’t go
over the d-i-v-o-r-c-e, did we? Actually, that wasn’t bad at all, especially
when you consider we’d spent most of the marriage fighting. He let me
keep my little Victorian and I let him keep his shirt.”

I searched my mind to see if I could think of anything outrageous I’d

done to shock her with. Obviously, that was what she was dying to hear and
she just wasn’t going to be satisfied until I’d unburdened myself.
Unfortunately, my life was pretty ordinary. My imagination wasn’t though,
so I invented a little. “I’ve dated a little since then but I’m more interested
in exploring my sexuality than settling down, if you know what I mean,” I
added, chuckling. “I tried this three way once--college kids, you know--
they’re so curious, all gung ho to try new things.”

Heath choked on something. I hadn’t looked at him. I’d been focused

on Cheryl.

Patting him on the back, I glanced around the table. Half were staring

down their noses at me in offense. I noticed a couple of the men at the table
looked intrigued, though.

Cheryl looked like a fish out of water, her mouth opening and closing

as if she was struggling to gasp for air. I smiled at her and leaned closer.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw everyone at the table lean closer--
including the snotty ones. “Then there was this other guy that introduced me
to some really kinky shit--I’ll tell you about that later,” I finished as if I’d
just discovered I had everyone’s attention.

Pleased that I’d managed to shock and outrage pretty much everyone,

I finished my meal very happily. About half way through the meal, one of
the women on the other side of the table leaned in and spoke to me. “How
much do you pay for the designer clothes?”

My brows rose. “I have to give the customers a pretty healthy mark

down, else they still couldn’t afford them, but something is better than

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nothing, isn’t it? I mean, one can’t be seen wearing the same thing too many
times, even if it is designer, right? And then the closet’s overflowing and
you’ve no room to add more.” Grabbing my purse, I handed her one of my
business cards. “Just give me a call if you’re interested in disposing of
anything and I’ll have a look and give you a price.”

I didn’t give her my spiel about discretion. Ordinarily, I made it a

point to reassure my wealthy clients that I wouldn’t let the other tightwads
know about them recycling their designer goods, but that hardly seemed
necessary considering I’d already behaved so indiscreetly and she hadn’t
seemed to mind about that.

I tried not to think about the fact that I’d allowed myself to be goaded

into royally showing my ass in front of Heath. Why should I give a damn
what he thought anyway? The truth was the whole trip had been a bust. It
had probably been doomed from the outset.

My little rebellious outburst might end up being the highlight of the

trip, something to laugh about later when I remembered the expressions of
the people around me. Besides, I knew people pretty well. Generally the
more shocked and outraged they were, the more they secretly hated you
because they felt like you were getting something they’d missed out on. I
could console myself with that.

There was the possibility that Heath had been as intrigued by my

supposed conquests as the others but I figured it was probably a slim one.
He was as close as anyone came to being the ‘old world gentleman’ these
days, which meant he was more likely horrified than intrigued. Besides that,
I was sure any inclination he’d had toward notoriety had been thoroughly
squelched during his rocky marriage and the aftermath.

Cheryl decided not to talk to me anymore after I’d promised her a

blow by blow of the kinky sex party I’d enjoyed with my fictitious lover. It
was just as well. My imagination hadn’t supplied me with anything kinkier
than the three way I’d made up.

I was glad when the desert course arrived. In a few minutes I could

escape without leaving behind the impression that I was fleeing the scene.
Instead of eating the cheese cake, I toyed with it, mentally preparing my
farewell speech.

The music they’d been playing softly throughout the meal became

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louder as the meal rolled to a close. Several of the couples at our table,
including Cheryl and Trevor, got up and moved to the dance floor.

I’d just decided to make my exit when they started playing my song.

Abruptly, the lyrics seemed far more personal than they ever had

before. I didn’t want to think about the girl in the song searching for a
stranger to give her the baby the man she loved couldn’t, but the
conversation with Cheryl earlier still lingered.

“Dance?”

I glanced at the hand Heath held out and then up at him, torn. Finally,

I merely nodded and rose.

“All I wanna do is make love to you,” the singer crooned as Heath

pulled me into his arms and guided me across the dance floor while I
struggled to think about anything except the way his body felt so close to
mine and the singing that began in my blood and beat throughout my body
like primal war drums.

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Chapter Seven

I tried to focus on the music, not the lyrics that pulled at me. I didn’t

want to make love. I wanted to fuck him six ways from Sunday and call it
even, I realized finally. Maybe I had come to exorcise my ghosts, but in the
back of my mind I’d wanted revenge for all the time I’d wasted mooning
over him. I’d been fond enough of Doug in the beginning, loved him in a
way, I supposed, but I’d never really loved him, not with magic youth had
bestowed on my first love and I felt deprived because of it.

What I’d really planned was to swoop back into his life, give him

something to plague him for the rest of his life, and then trot home again,
triumphant, teasing myself with the hope that I’d made a strong enough
impression that it bothered him I’d pulled a hit and run on him.

That little insight about myself wasn’t terribly pleasant and I supposed

explained why I’d hidden it from me all the while I’d made my plans.

What an ego trip I’d taken! Talk about moving through a fantasy

world! I had to wonder what had ever given me the idea, acknowledged or
not, that I could blow his mind.

“Want to give them something to talk about?” Heath murmured near

my ear, bringing me back into focus.

I drew back enough to study his expression. “I already have.”

A slow smile curled his lips. “I guess you don’t remember how to

dirty dance, then?”

I stared at him blankly for a moment before everything in me began to

respond to the devilment in his eyes like a flower blossoming. “Better than
you, I’ll bet,” I murmured challengingly as I stepped away, turned, and
began to sashay across the dance floor, shaking my booty. He followed,
grasping me from behind, his palm splayed across my mid section while he
brushed the other along my neck and arm in a mock caress that still managed
to stir my blood and leave me breathless.

It wasn’t quite like a well rehearsed, choreographed dance, but I was

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pleasantly surprised by the way we seemed so attuned to one another and
moved easily together, twirling, dipping, rubbing all over each other. Within
moments a good third of the other people on the dance floor had caught the
mood and were struggling to perform their own version of dirty dancing.

By the time the song ended, I was hot, and it wasn’t from the exercise.

Desire glittered in Heath’s eyes, too. Instead of leading me back to the table,
he drew me close and laid one on me right there in the middle of the dance
floor for god and everybody to see. Ignoring the audience, I twined my arms
around his neck and kissed him back with fervor.

I was so disoriented by the time we ended the kiss, I was completely

cocooned from what was going on around us. Blinking, I looked around to
discover the dance floor had filled with wildly gyrating couples dancing to a
fast song.

Smiling wryly, Heath settled a hand along my waist. He leaned close

to speak to me as we started back toward the table. “Let’s go somewhere
and talk.”

Yeah! My mind shouted. He said let’s fuck! Nodding, I grabbed my

purse from my chair and we left the ballroom.

I didn’t want to let my engines idle, or his, on the way up so I moved

on him the moment the elevator doors closed behind us. A childish giggle
broke through my concentration when we reached the third floor.
Reluctantly, I moved away, ignoring the little darling and his parents. We
managed to step out of the elevator just as the doors were closing again.

“Your place or mine?”

I glanced up at Heath. “Mine’s closer.”

He frowned. “But I’ve been seen outside that door--a lot. I’d rather

not be so easy to find if anybody gets any ideas.” He led me to his room.

I cornered him at the door, running a hand over his buttocks while he

worked on setting the security chain and then reaching around him to stroke
the long ridge tenting the front his trousers. “I hope nobody gets the bright
idea of pulling the fire alarm again. I’d hate to go down for murder,” I
murmured.

“You’d have to get to them before I could,” Heath retorted.

Grasping my hands and pulling them away from their exploration, he

turned, walking me backwards until I met up with the wall. Instead of

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releasing my hands, he drew my arms upward, trapping me as he braced his
weight on his hands on either side of my head. I tipped my head back,
exploring his throat with my lips. The combined scents of desire, man and
aftershave sent a heady rush through me. My head swam as the euphoric
drug of primal hunger flooded my bloodstream.

His lips met mine as I rounded the jut of his chin. He teased me,

nipping at my lips, brushing his own lightly across the sensitive surface.
Impatient, I flicked my tongue out and teased him in turn. He closed his
mouth over the tip, sucking gently, and then opened his mouth over mine,
leaning into the embrace so that our bodies brushed lightly here and there
with each breath we drew.

My belly tightened. I want to feel him on me, inside of me, his

weight, the brush of his skin over every inch of mine. The dip in the river
had excited me but it had teased me more than fulfilled the need that had
been growing stronger ever since I’d arrived, the water slickening our skin
so that I couldn’t feel his heat and the brush of hair roughened skin against
me.

Moving swiftly past the desire to tease or be teased, I made a sound of

complaint in my throat. He released my wrists, slipping his hands slowly
along the sensitive under sides of my arms to cup my breasts. Massaging
them briefly, he traced my form downward to my thighs and gathered the
skirt of my dress until he could slip his hands beneath it. His hands
skimmed the silky stockings I was wearing and the elasticized lace tops and
then I felt the faint roughness of his palms on my bare legs, drifting higher.

My breath hitched a little tighter as he explored the tops of my thighs

and then my belly. One hand cupped my mound. He slipped a finger
between my thighs, gently stroking the outer petals of my sex. Lifting my
hands from the wall, I looped them around his neck and moved my legs
apart to give him better access. He delved beneath my panties, stroking my
bare skin for a moment before he gently parted the outer petals of flesh and
probed deeper.

A sharp jolt stabbed through me as he found my clit and teased it with

a circular motion of his finger. I broke the kiss to suck in a harsh breath of
desperately needed air, my fingers slipping to his shoulders and digging into
him reflexively.

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I didn’t want or need any more foreplay. I’d teased myself as much as

I had him over the past days. I wanted and needed fulfillment. I wanted his
bare skin against mine, yearned to feel myself wrapped up tightly against
him. I ached to feel his engorged flesh impaling me, claiming me.

As he went back to exploring my neck and ear with his mouth and my

sex with his fingers, I began a rather frantic search for buttons, zipper, and
belt buckle, tugging at his clothes mindlessly in an effort to reach his body.
He released me long enough to shrug out of his jacket. As he did, I fought
the buttons of his shirt, rewarding myself with an exploration of the little
patches of skin I discovered with each successive button undone.

When I got to his waist, I tugged his shirt from his shoulders,

succeeding only in trapping his arms with the confining material. He
struggled a moment and finally drew away from me again, fought briefly
with his cuff links and then dropped them onto the carpet and withdrew his
arms from the sleeves.

He was wearing an undershirt. Thwarted from the thorough

exploration I’d thought was within my grasp, I grabbed the material and
began tugging it from the waistband of his dress pants. His shirt fell free as I
succeeded in dragging both shirt and undershirt loose. Shoving my hands
beneath the knit fabric, I flattened my palms against his belly, rolling his t-
shirt upward as I examined the hard, rippled plane of his belly with my
palms and the sensitive pads of my fingertips.

He sucked his belly in on a sharp breath at my touch. His hand fisted

in my hair. Settling his other hand beneath my chin, he tipped my face up
and covered my mouth again. His tongue raked along mine in restless
possession. I sucked on it as I tired of exploring his belly and chest and
moved one hand down to cup his erection through the fabric still impeding
my full exploration.

When he broke the kiss to help me with the catch, made more difficult

to fathom by the mindless need that gripped both of us, I scooted down the
wall and planted my lips on his belly. He sucked in sharply at the touch of
my tongue, shuddering as I slipped my hands beneath his shorts and pants
and pushed both down his thighs.

Unveiled at last, his cock, heavy and throbbing with the blood

engorging it, dropped heavily into my hands. I examined the sleek,

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unblemished member thoroughly from tip to root with my eyes and then my
hands and finally my mouth and tongue, relishing the taste of him as his
flesh filled my mouth.

“My god, baby!” he said in a hoarse, rasping voice, his fingers

digging into my shoulders spasmodically as I explored his sex. “I’m going
to explode if you keep that up.” I felt a tug at the zipper along the back of
my dress. When he’d opened it as far as he could reach, he grasped my
waist and urged me to stand.

Reluctantly, I released his cock and stood as he nudged his shoes from

his feet and pushed his pants and shorts down until he could step out of the
tangle of clothing. Reaching behind my back, I tugged the zipper the rest of
the way down and shimmied out of the dress, kicking my heels off as the
dress settled around my feet.

We stumbled in the general direction of the bed, trying to touch and

explore along the way, tripping on the clothing strewn around us on the
floor. He caught his weight with an arm and one knee as we crashed down
on the edge of the bed and bounced. Grasping me around the waist, he
shoved me higher up on the bed and crawled up behind me, muttering my
name feverishly as he wedged his hips between my thighs. His cock dug
into the flesh of my sex, parting the folds. “I need you, baby. Need to get
inside you,” he murmured hoarsely, thrusting against me and sending such
sharp needles of pleasure and pain through me as he caressed my tender cleft
with his cock I gasped hoarsely. I gritted my teeth, lifting as he stroked my
cleft again until I felt the head of his cock against the mouth of my sex.

He thrust, burying the head of his cock in me and then went abruptly

still and began cursing. “Damn it to hell! I forgot the fucking condom!” he
growled.

A jolt went through me, penetrating my mindless euphoria. Heath

Bardsley had said fucking! Before he could move, I wrapped my legs
around him and thrust upward, seating his cock more firmly inside of me. I
hadn’t touched a man in three fucking years, and I knew damned well he
was safe. ‘Without a raincoat’ my song sang inside my head. “Do it!” I
demanded, my voice a barely recognizable, feral growl. “I’ll kill you if stop
now!”

A shudder went through him as he struggled for control. He buried

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his face against my neck. “I bought condoms,” he muttered weakly.

I reached down, grasping his buttocks and thrusting upward again.

Groaning, grinding his teeth, his hips arched jerkily, driving his flesh a

little deeper into me, as if he had no control over the urge to pump into me.
Heartened by that thought, I moved slowly against him, trying to wrench his
control completely from him.

“You’re so hot, so tight, baby,” he growled hoarsely. Covering my

lips in a deep kiss, he began to move, slowly thrusting against me until he
was buried to the root inside of me, grinding his pelvis against me as if he
wanted to get deeper still, stretching me until I fought the urge to scream.
My body burgeoned, tightened toward the breaking point of release. The
walls of my sex spasmed, clenching and unclenching around his cock
rhythmically.

Abruptly, he began to move with desperation, withdrawing and then

thrusting deeply again until he was plunging against me joltingly. I dug my
heels into the mattress to keep him from driving me across the bed with the
fierce jolts. “I can’t hold it, baby. You feel so good. I can’t hold it,” he
began muttering feverishly.

The words as much as the pleasure radiating through my sex with

each stroke sent me over the edge as suddenly as if I’d been cut free. My
body seized all over and began to convulse with the hard surges of release.
As if the contractions of my body were milking him, he uttered a strangled
growl and began to shudder and jerk with his own release.

Blanketed with the heated afterglow of the most explosive release I

could recall ever having, I was hardly even aware of him collapsing
bonelessly against me. After a few minutes, when he’d ceased gasping
hoarsely for air, he roused, began nuzzling his face along my neck almost
apologetically. “I’m sorry, baby. So sorry.”

My mind was still so much mush it took a while for his muttered

words to penetrate my sated brain. “Wha…?” I managed, my tongue feeling
thick and uncooperative.

He couldn’t possibly be laboring under the misconception that he’d

left me unsatisfied, I finally decided. The condom? Not only was I not
worried about it, it pleased me no end that we’d done it bareback--just like
my song.

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I patted his shoulder consolingly. “S’alright,” I murmured.

He pushed himself up on his arms to study my face. I cracked an eye

to peer back at him a little drunkenly, my brain still spinning with the
aftermath of expended bliss. Apparently, he found what he was looking for.
After a moment, the tension left him. He settled on the bed beside me.
Catching my waist, he rolled me toward him, dropping a leg across my hips
and one arm across my waist. Surprised but pleased that he seemed to want
to snuggle, I wiggled against him until I’d found a comfortable position and
settled drowsily.

The euphoria of release seemed to manifest itself in waking dream.

As he stroked my back, I allowed myself to drift for an endless time,
memories tangling and merging with fantasy, some recent, some from many
years ago, and some evolving from the lyrics of that song that kept teasing
me.

I was never going to be able to listen to that song again without

remembering.

In time, my heart and lungs attained a more normal rhythm, but as

they did the song began to drift through my mind, more pronounced, more
difficult to dismiss. One line in particular seemed to stick like a broken
record, ‘one night of magic’, and strange sense of yearning filled me that had
nothing to do with the fabulous sex I’d so recently enjoyed.

More to divert my mind from the maudlin path it seemed determined

to turn down than because I still felt needy, I ceased to lie like a contented
slug and began to return the petting he’d bestowed upon me.

I hadn’t really explored his body as thoroughly as I’d wanted to, I

reminded myself. More accurately, I suppose, I’d been too greedy with
hunger to take it all in. He tensed slightly as I nuzzled my face against his
chest, luxuriating in the combined scents of man, cologne, and sexual
indulgence, and then began to nibble my way across his upper chest and
throat. A sound that was part groan of pleasure, part weariness and part
amusement rumbled from his chest. “It you’re up to what I think you are,
I’m not sure I’m up to it.”

I couldn’t help it. I smiled wickedly against his throat. “Why don’t

you just relax and let me play and we’ll see what pops up?” I murmured,
only half teasing as I reached down between us and began to stroke his

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flaccid member.

Groaning, he rolled me onto my back and settled half atop me,

pressing my shoulders into the mattress with his hands as he stared down at
me, his expression mock angry. “Woman!”

I lifted my brows in surprise, but couldn’t contain the look of

satisfaction than went through me when I felt him growing hard in my hand.
“Yes?” I murmured, all innocence.

He dipped his head to nibble my lips. “You’re going to kill me,” he

muttered.

I took that as a definite yes and tickled his lips with the tip of my

tongue. He caught it between his lips, sucked it. Heat flooded me. After a
moment, he moved lower, sucking one pert nipple into his mouth. He’d
neglected that particular erogenous zone in the first go around and need
spread through me like wildfire as he teased me unmercifully, moving from
one nipple to the other and back again until I began to move restlessly
beneath him, clutching at his hair, moving against his erection.

My channel, slick with my own need and his seed, offered less

resistance as he pushed inside of me and began to stroke my sheath slowly,
building the heat and tension. Looping my arms around his neck, I watched
his face as he moved, feeling his burgeoning need feed my own. He settled
his upper body weight on his arms, framing my head with his lower arms,
watching the growing need in me until we both reached a point where we
couldn’t prevent ourselves from focusing inward. Blindly, he sought my lips
as he began to move more swiftly. I kissed him back greedily, matching
each thrust, pushing him to move faster and drive deeper according to the
demands of my body.

As my body reached its peak and began to quake with the first tremors

of release, I wrenched my mouth from his, sucking in jagged gasps that took
on the keen edge of cries as my climax sharpened. The ecstasy seemed to go
on endlessly as his own release drove him to thrust harder and faster.

As I came down, I felt as if I was melting into the bed, becoming a

puddle of flesh as every ounce of strength drained away from me. I was
barely conscious when he finally shuddered and went perfectly still, settling
heavily on top of me. I doubt I would even have noticed when he rolled off
of me some time later if not for the cool air that whispered across my bare

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body. Completely and totally replete I passed beyond the real world.

A snore woke me. Disoriented, I rolled off of the chest rising and

falling beneath my cheek and pulled a pillow over my head. Doug had
always been bad about snoring if he slept on his back.

The thought teased me. Slowly, my numb brain put together the fact

that I hadn’t woken next to a snoring husband in years. Still more than a
little sluggish, I pushed the pillow off and turned over.

Heath was sprawled limply on the other side of the bed completely

naked and with no more than a tiny wedge of sheet covering him--a spot in
the middle of his belly. If it hadn’t been for the snoring I might have been
worried that I really had killed him.

Poor baby! He looked adorable, though, with his hair standing in

spikes around his head. My gaze wandered down his chest and I examined
the sleeping beast in the nest of hair low on his belly.

A sigh of pure pleasure erupted before I thought better of it.

It dawned on me after a moment that I wasn’t having any difficulty

making out every detail and I glanced toward the window. Morning light
was filtering into the room.

I stared at the wedge of light in dawning dismay, realizing finally that

Cinderella was about to turn into a pumpkin.

A crushing sense of loss washed over me abruptly.

The ball was over. The deed was done, and I was in way over my

head to lie here smiling at his sleeping form like a sap.

Holding my breath, I eased away from him and finally got out the bed

and looked around for my discarded clothing. My stockings, which I
discovered I was still wearing, were below my knees and bagging around my
ankles. Straightening them, I looked around for the rest of my clothing. I
finally found my thong tangled in the bedding. It was a total loss since one
strap was broken. Dismayed, I stared at it, trying to remember what had
happened and finally recalled that I hadn’t even bothered taking it off.
Somehow, during that first, frantic coupling, Heath, or I, had ripped the thin
strap. Tossing them aside, I grabbed my dress and pulled it over my head,
then looked around for the heels I’d kicked off. I found one under the bed
and one tangled in Heath’s dress slacks.

God only knew how I’d managed that!

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Deciding not to put them on, I clutched them against my chest and ran

my fingers through my hair in an attempt to finger comb some of the tangles
out and tiptoed toward the door. About halfway there, Heath ceased snoring.
I froze, the hair on the back of my neck prickling. When I glanced toward
the bed, I saw that he’d rolled over. After a brief search of the sheets beside
him, he settled again, this time on his side.

I’d already taken the security chain loose when I remembered my

purse. Fortunately, I’d dropped it near the door.

Sighing, resisting the urge to turn around for one last look, I eased the

door open, glanced up and down the hallway and then darted toward my
room.

My blood was pounding in my ear drums by the time I slipped into

my room, but weariness was dragging at me. I stared longingly at the bed
for a moment and finally dismissed it. I’d already told them I was checking
out this morning and, truth be told, I was too much of a coward to feel like
hanging around to see what Heath thought about the morning after.

All things considered, he was probably going to be pissed that I’d

brushed aside the protection he’d offered. I didn’t regret it. My blood had
been boiling in my veins like acid, but I had still been lucid enough to know
what I was doing. Considering the entire town had tried and convicted him
in his wife’s death, he wouldn’t have had much of an opportunity to pick up
anything, even if he was habitually irresponsible, which I knew he wasn’t,
and I certainly hadn’t had the exposure to do so.

Of course, he wouldn’t know that, not right away anyhow. On the

other hand, if he’d believed the tales I’d told the night before, I doubted he
would believe any reassurances I tried to give him.

Shaking those thoughts, I went into the bathroom, bathed quickly and

found something comfortable to wear for the trip home. It was going to be a
long, long drive, but then flying wouldn’t have put me home that much
faster. I was a two to three hour drive from the airport on this end,
depending on the traffic, and about the same on the other. Adding in the
time I would have to spend in the terminal waiting for my flight it came to
almost as long a trip if I flew and driving wouldn’t have the scare factor.

Those thoughts sustained me for a while, but I hadn’t had much sleep

and the drive became a test of endurance. It was late in the evening by the

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time I finally pulled into my own driveway. Leaving everything except my
purse in the car, I staggered inside like somebody on stilts, my buttocks,
back and legs stiff.

I was hungry. I’d been afraid to stop and eat for fear that a full

stomach would put me to sleep. I sure as hell didn’t feel like cooking,
though.

It was just as well. When I opened the refrigerator I remembered I’d

had the foresight to clean it out before I left town and the cupboard was
pretty damned bare. Sighing, I dropped a slice of stale bread in the toaster
and poured myself a glass of juice while I waited.

Stripping, I sat in the middle of my bed munching the toast and

getting bread crumbs everywhere. I was too tired to care, too tired even to
feel the sense of satisfaction I often felt eating in bed because Doug had
hated that particular habit of mine and now I could do it any time I wanted
to.

I felt numb, all over, strangely divorced from everything.

It was barely full dark when I set my glass aside and snuggled against

my pillows but I was too exhausted to worry about the likelihood of waking
before day the following morning and feeling like hell all day.

Something began nagging at me before I was even fully awake the

following morning. I finally realized what it was as I sprawled in one of my
kitchen chairs eating another slice of toast with my coffee.

It was that twice damned note I’d left for Heath that I’d agonized over

for nearly twenty minutes before I left town. Somehow, it just hadn’t
seemed right to leave without at least penning a note, and yet I couldn’t
decide what would be appropriate to put in the note even after I’d made up
my mind to leave one. I wrote a full page the first time, filled with poetic
raptures over our night together. When I’d balled that up and tossed it in the
trash, I tried a friendly ‘it was great, we’ll have to do it again sometime’.
Finally, afraid I’d reveal too much if I tried to write anything, I’d merely
scribbled ‘thanks’ and sealed it in the envelope before I could change my
mind again.

Now I wondered if that had been just a tad too dismissive.

Shrugging it off finally as something done that couldn’t be changed, I

checked the clock. I really didn’t have time to run to the store before I

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opened the shop, but I was going to starve to death if I didn’t get some food
in the house.

And I still had to turn in the damned car and get mine from the

airport!

“Damn it!” I muttered irritably, wishing I’d done it the night before

instead of heading for the house like a homing pigeon.

It turned out to be the worst Monday I’d had in a while. After a mad

dash to the store where I grabbed up the first things that I came across, I
raced home again and opened the shop. Expecting a chance to relax after I’d
opened--because Mondays weren’t generally very busy, I had one customer
after another to deal with until it was lunch time and I could close for a
while. After a little thought, I moved the numbers on the clock face on the
door to indicate I was taking a long lunch and drove to the airport. I grabbed
a fast food lunch on the way back and ate as I drove, which not only made
me a hazard to myself and other drivers, but was also very unsatisfactory.

The afternoon wasn’t much better.

That was the highlight of my week, however. By the time I rolled out

of bed Tuesday morning, I was suffering a serious onset of depression.
Instead of resting, I’d relived my weekend with Heath all night and felt like
hell the following morning.

I muddled through the week somehow, but it wasn’t until the weekend

rolled around again that I finally faced what I’d been fighting off all week.

I hadn’t exorcised my ghosts. I’d sabotaged myself. No amount of

reasoning or self castigation could rid me of the certainty that bore into me
that I’d succeeded only in replacing fantasy with reality and made things
worse.

Years had passed since the days when I’d openly, to myself anyway,

admitted I adored Heath Bardsley and always would. It was the ‘always
would’ that had driven me to self destruct, the stupid certainty that my
imagination had built him up to more than he really was and that I’d never
really be able to move on and find true love until I’d rid myself of that
fantasy.

Another week passed while I fought the urge to give him a call and

invite him up for round three. One more ‘hair of the dog’ and I was lost.

I was already lost. Grimly, I tossed the phone number I’d spent hours

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tracking down and hunkered down to ride it out.

It was late in the evening of my second weekend in purgatory when I

heard a knock at the back door. Promising myself that if it was my ex, come
around to look for something else he’d misplaced, I was going to knee him
in the groin, I stalked to the door and yanked it open.

Heath stood on the threshold. I stared at him in blank, openmouthed

surprise for several moments before I came out of shock sufficiently to
actually look at him. He looked like a man whose dog had been shot--hurt
and furiously angry at the same time.

“You’re welcome,” he growled, opening his hand and allowing the

piece of paper he had fisted in his hand to drop to the floor.

My gaze followed of its own accord.

It was the note I’d left him.

When I looked up at him again it was with a mixture of guilt and

hopefulness. “You misunderstood,” I managed to say.

His lips flattened. “Did I? That wasn’t ‘thanks for scratching my

itch’? Maybe I’ll see you around sometime? And maybe not? What did I
ever do to you to make you want to do that to me?”

The guilt every word out of his mouth heaped on me made me feel

lower and lower until I was fighting the urge to burst into tears. I caught
hold of his shirt as he began to turn away, struggling with my wobbling chin
to try to speak. I couldn’t let him walk out of my life again without telling
him, I realized, no matter how much of a blow it would be to my pride if he
shrugged it off and kept going. “You made me fall in love with you all over
again,” I said shakily.

He stared at me as if he was having trouble assimilating what I’d said.

“I went because I’d never been able to get you out of my mind,” I

babbled. “I thought that would do it, but it didn’t. It only made it worse.”

He caught my arms, his hands tightening bruisingly. “You’re not just

saying that because I’m royally pissed off with you?”

Unable to say more, I shook my head slowly.

He surged into the house, forcing me back several steps. Kicking the

door closed behind him, he pulled be into a hard embrace and kissed me
silly. “You mean that, baby?’ he murmured against my ear when he broke
the kiss and began nuzzling my neck.

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“Yes,” I gasped breathlessly.

“Say it.”

“Your turn.”

He chuckled. Pulling away slightly, he shook his head at me. “I

guess I wasn’t acting as much like a lovesick kid as I thought. I love you,”
he murmured, this time against my lips as he kissed me again. “Where’s the
bedroom? Never mind, the floor will do.”

Somehow we found ourselves rolling around on the floor, snickering

like two kids every time we bumped into something. Finally, Heath pulled
away, a mixture of amusement and dissatisfaction on his face. “I give. I’m
too damned old for this. I’m going to be too crippled to walk if we keep this
up. Where’s the bed?”

Discarding our clothes along the way, we fell into the bed naked and

ready. The bed groaned under our combined weight. Ignoring the threat of
imminent collapse, Heath entered me almost at once. Two weeks without
him was enough to send me skyward toward ecstasy the moment I felt him
inside of me, stoking my fire as he plunged and thrust with a desperation that
matched mine. Within minutes I felt rapture explode within me. Heath
followed me to paradise moments later, groaning harshly in triumph as he
pumped his seed inside of me.

I caressed his back and shoulders possessively as he went limp and

still, lying heavily on top of me. It felt better than wonderful to lie beneath
him. It felt right. After drifting along in a pleasant haze for a while, though,
an errant memory made me chuckle. “We’re going to have to move the bed
away from the wall next time if we don’t want to go through it,” I murmured
wryly.

He lifted his head, glanced at the headboard and then looked at me

sheepishly.

Whatever he might have said went unspoken, however. The phone

rang.

I decided to ignore it.

He looked at me questioningly. “You aren’t going to answer it?”

“I thought I’d ignore it.”

He studied the phone uneasily. “Maybe you’d better answer it.”

I stared at him in surprise but finally shrugged and shifted to grab the

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receiver. “Hello?”

I didn’t recognize the man’s voice on the other end. “Could I speak

with Heath?”

Stunned, it took me several moments to react. Finally, I held the

phone out. “It’s for you.”

“Yeah?” He cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. What time is it? Ok. I’ll be

back tonight.”

I looked at him expectantly when he hung up, trying to tamp my

disappointment.

He grimaced. “It was Dad,” he responded to my questioning look.

“He’s pissed. I left him babysitting.”

“Oh.” I sighed. Duty called.

He studied me speculatively for several moments. “Now, where were

we?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “About to say goodbye, I think.”

He shook his head. “You ok with a JP?”

I blinked. “A JP?” I echoed.

“Justice of the peace.”

I gaped at him. He used a finger to close my mouth. “Is that a yes?”

“You mean--get married?”

His eyes gleamed with a mixture of doubt and hope. “Yes. I have to

drive down to pick up Amy, but I could be back late tomorrow.”

I sat up. “You don’t think this is way too fast?” I asked hesitantly,

trying to ignore the rush of excitement that was making me feel giddy.

His faint smile vanished. “Lady, if fifteen years is your idea of fast,

we’re not going to make much progress. We’ve got a lot of time to make up
for, babies to make….”

“Wait! Babies?”

He swallowed, his gaze dead serious now. “I don’t want to miss out

on anything with you.”

I felt a smile begin inside of me. “I guess you won’t be pissed then

when I tell you I didn’t use contraceptives?”

He waggled his dark brows at me, and dipped his head to nuzzle my

neck. “In that case, want to practice a little more before I have to go?” he
murmured. “We want to get it right this time.”

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The End