Dance Upon the Air (18 page)

She pressed a crisp hundred-dollar bill into Nell's hand. “This is for you.”

“Mrs. Macey, you're not supposed to tip me. Peg and—”

“I've taken care of them. You're going to hurt my feelings if you don't take this and go buy yourself something pretty. Now I want you to scat. Anything else needs to be done, it'll wait until tomorrow. Sheriff, you help our Nell out to her car with her trays.”

“I'll do that.”

“This was better than my wedding,” Gladys said as she started to the door. She turned back briefly, winked. “Now let's see if we can improve on my wedding night.”

“Looks like Carl's in for a surprise.” Zack hefted a stack of trays. “We'd better move along, give the young couple some privacy.”

“I'm right behind you.”

It took three trips between them, with Carl pushing a bottle of champagne into Nell's hands as he nudged them along.

“Here's your hat, what's your hurry?” Zack chuckled as he loaded Nell's trunk.

“Where's your car?”

“Hmm? Oh, Ripley used it to take the last couple
of semi-impaired guests home. Most people walked, which helped out.”

Nell let herself look at him. He was wearing a suit, but had already rid himself of the tie. She could see the faint bulge where he'd stuffed it in his pocket.

He'd opened his collar, so she could see the clean, tanned line of his throat.

There was a faint smile on his lips as he watched the lights in the Macey house wink out, one at a time. His profile wasn't perfect. His hair hadn't been styled. And the way he stood, his thumbs tucked in the front pockets of his suit pants, was relaxed rather than posed.

When the shimmer of desire came, she didn't try to close it off. Instead she took a step forward.

“I've only had half a glass of champagne. I'm unimpaired, thinking clearly, and my reflexes are perfect.”

He turned his head toward her. “As sheriff, I'm glad to know it.”

Still watching him, she drew her keys out of her pocket, held them dangling. “Come home with me. You drive.”

The twinkle in his eyes turned to razor-sharp intensity. “I'm not going to ask if you're sure.” He took the keys. “I'm just going to tell you to get in the car.”

Her knees felt a bit wobbly, but she walked to the door, slid in while he got behind the wheel.

When he yanked her across the seat, ravished her mouth, she forgot all about wobbly knees and did her best to crawl into his lap.

“Hold on, just hold on. Christ Jesus.” He stabbed the keys into the ignition. The engine whimpered to
life, and he swung the protesting car into a tight U-turn. It shimmied in protest, making Nell giggle nervously.

“If this heap falls apart before we get there, we'll have to run for it. Zack—” She flipped off the seat belt she'd automatically snapped on, and slithered over to bite his ear. “I feel like I'm going to explode.”

“Did I ever mention I'm particularly partial to women wearing little black vests?”

“No. Really?”

“I just found out tonight.” Reaching out, he snagged the vest by the center vee, tugged her back against him. Understandably distracted, he took the turn too sharp and bumped the wheels over the curb.

“One more minute,” he panted. “Just one more minute.”

With a squeal of brakes and a violent jerk, he stopped in front of Nell's cottage. He managed, barely, to turn off the ignition before he reached for her. Dragging her across his lap, he found her mouth with his again. And let his hands do as they pleased.

Need spurted through her, hot and welcome. Riding on it, she tugged at his jacket, arched against his hands. And thrilled at the first scrape of callus over her flesh.

“Inside.” He felt as randy and impatient as a teenager, and as fumbling as he fought to open the car door. “We have to get inside.”

He whipped her out, his breathing already ragged as they continued to fight with each other's clothes. They stumbled, and buttons popped off his shirt. As he half carried her toward the cottage, her delighted laughter rang in his head.

“Oh! I love your hands! I want them all over me.”

“I'll take care of that. Goddamn it, what's wrong with this door?” Even as he vented his frustration by rapping his hip hard against it, it flew open.

They ended up in a heap on the floor, half in, half out.

“Right here. Right here.” She chanted it while her fingers worked busily at his belt.

“Wait. Just a—let me close the—” He managed to roll, scoot, and kick the door shut.

The room was all moonlight and shadows. The floor was as hard as brick. Neither of them noticed as they tore at clothes, rolled and tugged. He caught glimpses, beautiful, erotic images of pale skin, soft curves, delicate lines.

He wanted to look. He wanted to wallow.

He had to take.

When her shirt caught at her wrists by the cuffs, he gave up, gave in and lowered his mouth to her breast.

She vibrated beneath him, a volcano on the brink of erupting. Flashes of white-hot heat, curls of keen-edged longing raced through her system until she was raw and ready.

She arched under him, more demand than offer, her nails biting restlessly into his back. The world was spinning, faster and faster, as if she'd leaped upon some mad carousel and all that kept her earthbound was the glorious weight of his body on hers.

“Right now.” She gripped his hips, opened for him. “Right now!”

He plunged, letting his body take over, letting his mind go. There was nothing but the relentless fury to
mate. She closed around him, a hot, wet fist, and he felt her tighten, stretching like a bow beneath him before she let out a cry that rang with triumph.

Her climax ripped through him like madness.

Pleasure geysered through her, flooding senses, swamping reason. Flying free, she wrapped herself around him, clinging tight to take him with her.

And with her sheer joy, drove him over the edge.

H
is ears were
ringing. Or maybe it was just the sound of his heart banging against his ribs like a fist on piano keys. Either way, he couldn't get his mind clear or his body to move. He'd have worried about temporary paralysis if he could've worked up the energy to worry about anything.

“Okay,” he managed and breathed in. “All right.” And out again. “I guess I tripped.”

“Me, too.” She was flattened under him, in the perfect position to nuzzle at his throat.

“Did you get banged up anywhere?”

“No. You broke my fall.” She gave the strong line of that throat a little scrape with her teeth. “Such a hero.”

“Yeah. You bet.”

“I rushed you. I hope you don't mind.”

“It's a little hard to complain just at the moment.” He found the energy to roll over, dragging her with him so she was cushioned against him. “But I'm
hoping you'll give me a chance to show off my style and finesse.”

She lifted her head, shook her hair back, and just grinned down at him.

“What?”

“I was just thinking how much I like your style. Every time I caught a glimpse of you tonight during the party, I just wanted to lick my lips. Big, handsome Sheriff Todd standing around in a suit he wished he didn't have to wear, nursing one lonely beer all evening so he could drive people home safe, and watching me with those patient green eyes until I was so turned on I'd have to go back to the kitchen just to calm down again.”

“Is that right?” He ran his hands down her arms, amused when he hit the cuffs of her shirt. Carefully he began to unbutton them. “Do you know what I was thinking when I was watching you?”

“Not exactly.”

“I was thinking how you looked like a dancer, all grace and competence. And I tried not to think what you might have on under that starched white shirt and sexy little vest.”

Once he'd freed her wrists, he ran his hands back up her arms. “You've got such a fine, streamlined shape to you, Nell. It's been driving me crazy for weeks.”

“I don't know how to explain how it makes me feel to know that. To feel steady enough to want that.” She threw her head back, her arms up. “Oh, God! I feel so alive. I don't want it ever to stop.”

She leaned down again, kissed him hard, then
scrambled to her feet. “I want that champagne. I want to get drunk and make love with you all night.”

“I can get behind that idea.” He sat up, then his eyes widened as she pulled open the door. “What're you doing?”

“Getting the champagne out of the car.”

“Let me get my pants on, and I'll get it. Nell!” Stupefied, he sprang to his feet as she raced outside, naked as a jaybird. “Well, for God's sake!” He grabbed his pants, carrying them with him to the doorway. “Get back in here before I have to haul you in for indecent exposure.”

“There's nobody to see.” It felt fabulous, and exactly right to stand naked in the cool night air, to feel it caress the skin so recently heated by passion. With the grass tickling her feet, she threw her arms out to the side and turned in circles. “Come on out, it's a beautiful night. Moon and stars and the sound of the sea.”

She looked impossibly alluring, the gold of her hair silvered by starlight, her milky skin shimmering with it, and her face lifted to the sky.

Then her gaze met his across the little patch of lawn with a power so intense it stole his breath. For a moment he would have sworn the whole of her sparkled.

“There's something in the air here,” she said, turning her hands up, palms cupped as if she could catch the breath of the night. “I feel it inside me, beating like a pulse. And when I feel that, it seems I could do anything.”

With her palm still cupped, she held out her hand to him. “Will you come kiss me in the moonlight?”

He couldn't resist, and didn't try, but walked to her, took her outstretched hand. With the sky sprinkling light over them, he lowered his mouth to hers in a kiss that warmed rather than burned.

The tenderness of it crept into her heart. When he lifted her into his arms, she cradled her head on his shoulder, knowing she was safe and welcome there.

He carried her inside, through the little cottage and to the old bed that shifted quietly under their weight.

Later, he told himself as he lost himself in her, he would think about how he felt to find himself falling in love with a witch.

She awoke before
dawn from one of the snatches of sleep they'd allowed each other. She felt his warmth, and his weight. The ease of it, the sheer and steady normality of him, was both comfort and arousal.

She drew his face for herself in her mind, feature by feature. When she had it complete, she held it there as she slipped out of bed to start her day.

She showered, dressed in shorts and a sleeveless shirt. Quietly, she picked up the clothes they'd scattered in the living room and all but floated into the kitchen.

She'd never experienced desire like that before, not the kind that sprang like an animal inside you and swallowed you whole.

She hoped to have the experience again.

And the tenderness that had come later, the insatiable thirst for more, the dark, breathless groping. All of it.

Nell Channing had a lover. And he was sleeping in her bed.

He wanted her, and that was a thrill. He wanted her for who she was, and not who he could mold her to be. And that was a balm.

Blissful, she brewed coffee, and while its scent perfumed the air she worked up a dough for cinnamon buns, another for bread. While she worked she sang to herself and watched the new day put roses in the sky.

Once her garden was watered, and she'd sipped at her first cup of coffee, she slid a batch of buns into the oven. With her mug in one hand, a pencil in the other, she began to toy with her menu for the coming week.

“What're you doing?”

She jumped like a rabbit at the sleep-roughened sound of his voice, and the coffee slopped over onto the paper. “Did I wake you? I'm sorry. I tried to be quiet.”

He held up a hand. “Nell, don't do that. It pisses me off.” His voice was thick with sleep, and despite herself dread curled in her stomach as he stepped toward her.

“There's one thing I'm going to ask you.” He picked up her mug, drank to clear his mind and voice. “Don't ever mix me up with him. If you'd waked me up and it annoyed me, I would say so. But the fact is I woke up because you weren't there and I missed you.”

“Some habits are hard to break, no matter how much you try.”

“Well, keep trying.” He said it lightly, moved over
to the stove to pour a full mug for himself. “You got something baking already?” He sniffed the air. “Mother of God.” He breathed it, reverently. “Cinnamon buns?”

Her dimples flickered. “And if they are?”

“I'll be your slave.”

“You're so easy, Sheriff.” She got a hot mitt out of the drawer. “Why don't you sit down? I'll give you breakfast, and we can discuss what I expect from my slave.”

On Monday morning
Nell breezed into Café Book loaded with boxes of baked goods, called out a cheery hello, and swung upstairs.

At the front counter, Lulu stopped ringing up weekend mail orders, her lips twitching as Mia turned from stocking shelves.

“Somebody,” Mia said, “got lucky this weekend.”

“You going up to squeeze her for details?”

“Please.” Mia tucked in another book, brushed lint from her skirt. “Do dryads dance in the woods?”

Amused, Lulu cackled. “Well, don't forget to fill me in.”

Mia walked into the café, and through the homey, irresistible scent of cinnamon buns. “Busy weekend,” she commented, scanning the morning's offerings.

“You bet.”

“And a terrific party Saturday night. Hell of a job, little sister.”

“Thanks.” Nell lined up her muffins before pouring the first of the morning coffee for Mia. “I've got
several meetings this week with potential clients that came out of it.”

“Congratulations. But . . .” Mia drew in the scent of her coffee. “I don't think future catering jobs are what has you glowing today. Let me try one of those buns there.”

Casually, she walked around to the rear of the counter while Nell selected the bun. “You definitely have the look of a woman who spent her weekend doing more than baking.”

“I did some gardening. My tomato plants are coming right along.”

“Mmm-hmm.” She brought the fragrant bun to her lips, took a neat bite. “I'm imagining Sheriff Todd was just as tasty as this. Give. We open in ten.”

“I shouldn't talk about it. It's rude, isn't it?”

“Absolutely not. It's required and expected. Have a little sympathy, will you? I haven't engaged in sexual activities for a considerable time, so I'm entitled to a few vicarious thrills. You look so damn happy.”

“I am. It was wonderful.” Nell did a quick little dance, then grabbed a bun for herself. “Outrageous. He has such . . . stamina.”

“Oh. Mmm.” Mia ran her tongue over her lips. “Don't stop now.”

“I think we broke several standing records.”

“Now you're bragging, but that's all right. You're among friends.”

“You know the best part?”

“I'm hoping you'll tell me, and all the other parts as well.”

“He didn't, doesn't, treat me like I'm fragile or needy or, I don't know . . . wounded. So I don't feel
fragile or needy or wounded when I'm with him. The first time, we barely made it into the house, and ended up on the floor tearing at each other's clothes. It was so
normal
.”

“We could all use a bit of that kind of normal now and then. He's a great kisser, isn't he?”

“Oh, boy, and when he. . .” Trailing off, Nell paled.

“I was fifteen,” Mia explained as she bit into the cinnamon bun again. “He gave me a ride home from a party, and we satisfied our mutual curiosity with a couple of very long, very intense lip-locks. While I won't insult your intelligence and claim it was like kissing my brother, I will say we didn't suit and have chosen to be friends. But they were really fine kisses.”

She licked icing off her finger. “So I have some small idea just how delightful your weekend was.”

“I'm glad I didn't know that before. I might have been intimidated.”

“Aren't you sweet? So, what are you going to do about Zachariah Todd?”

“Enjoy him.”

“Perfect answer.” For the moment. “He has really good hands, too, doesn't he?” Mia commented as she strolled away.

“Now you're going to have to shut up.”

Laughing, Mia started down the steps. “I'm opening the doors.”

And so, she thought, little sister, are you.

It wouldn't have
surprised Mia to know that Zack was undergoing personal interrogation over coffee and buns as well.

“Didn't see you around much this weekend.”