Montana Sky (22 page)

Now if she could manage to stay on her feet all night—
since sitting down in that dress wasn't an option—she'd be fine.

“Oh, you look wonderful” were the first words out of Lily's mouth when Willa came downstairs. “Just wonderful,” she repeated, dancing to the landing in something floaty and winter white. “Tess, come see. Willa looks fabulous.”

Tess's comment was a grunt as she stepped out of the room looking dangerous in basic black. “Not half bad,” she decided, secretly thrilled with the results as she tapped her pearl choker and circled Willa. “A little makeup and you'll do.”

“I have makeup on.”

“Christ, the woman has eyes like a goddess and doesn't know how to use them. Come on.”

“I'm not going back up there and glopping gunk on my face,” Willa protested as Tess dragged her back up the stairs.

“Honey, for what I pay, it's first-class gunk. Hold the fort, Lily.”

“All right. Don't be long, though.” And she beamed after them, flushed with the warmth of sisterhood.

She wished they could see how much fun they were together, from her point of view. Squabbling, just as she imagined sisters would. And now sharing clothes, makeup, dressing for a party together.

She was so grateful to be a part of it all. Giving in to the thrill, she spun in a circle, then stopped short when she saw Adam standing in the hall behind her.

“I didn't hear you come in.”

“I came in the back.” He could have looked at her endlessly, the dark-haired fairy in a floating white dress. “You look beautiful, Lily.”

“Thank you.”

She felt very nearly beautiful. But he, he was so outrageous, so perfect in every detail, she could barely believe he was real. A thousand times over the past months she'd longed to touch him. Not just a hand, a brush of shoulders, but to touch him. Part of her was certain he would be
offended or amused, and that she wouldn't risk.

“I'm glad you're here,” she said, speaking too quickly now. “Tess took Will back up for some last-minute touches, and people will start coming any minute. I don't do very well playing hostess. I never know what to say.”

She stepped back as he stepped forward, then made herself stop. Her heart turned over when he brushed his fingers down her cheek. “You'll be fine. They won't know what to say either, once they look at you. I don't.”

“I—” Oh, she would make a fool of herself now, she was certain, with this need to fling herself into his arms and be held close. Just to be held. “I should help Bess. In the kitchen.”

“She's got everything under control.” He kept his eyes on hers and his moves slow as he reached for her hand. “Why don't we pick out some music? We might even squeeze in a dance before anyone comes.”

“I haven't danced in a long time.”

“You'll dance tonight,” he promised, and led her into the great room.

They'd no more than made their initial selections and filled the CD player when the first headlights glanced off the window.

“Promise me the midnight dance,” he said, twining their fingers together again.

“Of course. I'm nervous,” she admitted with a quick smile. “Stay close, won't you?”

“As long as you need me.” He glanced over as Tess and Willa came down, sniping at each other. Because it was expected, and warranted, Adam let out a heartfelt whistle. Tess winked. Willa scowled.

“I'm going to want a drink, as soon as possible.” Hissing through her teeth, Willa strode to the door and greeted the first guests.

 

W
ITHIN AN HOUR
.
THE HOUSE WAS FILLED WITH PEOPLE
and voices and clashing scents. Apparently no one was too weary to attend another holiday party, too jaded to drink another glass of champagne, or too restrained to refrain from
discussing politics and religion. Or their neighbors and friends.

Willa remembered why she didn't care for socializing when Bethanne Mosebly sidled up to her and began to pump her for details of the murder.

“We were all shocked to hear about what happened to John Barker.” Bethanne inhaled champagne between sentences with such fervor that Willa was tempted to offer her a straw. “Must have been a terrible shock for you.”

Though Willa didn't immediately snap to John Barker and Pickles being one and the same, Bethanne's greedily excited eyes tipped her off. “It's not an experience I'm looking to repeat. Excuse me, I'm just going to—”

That was as far as she got before Bethanne's hand clamped down on her arm. “They said he was cut to pieces.” She toasted the fact with another gulp of champagne, leaving her small bird's mouth wet and gleaming. “Just hacked to ribbons.” The long needle fingers pinched harder. “And scalped.”

It was the glee that sickened her, even more than the image that burst full-blown into her brain. Even knowing that Bethanne had no harm in her other than an overly well-developed affection for chatter and gossip, Willa had to fight off a shudder.

“He was dead, Bethanne, and it was brutal. Too bad I didn't have my video camera for pictures at eleven.”

The disgust and sarcasm couldn't puncture the avid interest. Bethanne inched closer, giving Willa an unwelcome whiff of wine, Scope, and Obsession. “They say it could have been anyone, anyone at all who did it. Why, you could be murdered in your own bed any night of the week. Why, I was just telling Bob on the drive here how much it's been on my mind.”

Willa forced her lips into a thin smile. “I'll sleep easier knowing you're so worried about it. You're out of champagne, Bethanne. The bar's that way.”

Willa ducked away, then kept moving. Her one thought was to find air. How could anyone breathe with so many people gulping up the oxygen? she wondered. She pushed
her way into the hall and didn't stop until she reached the front door, wrenched it open, and found herself face-to-face with Ben.

He gawked at her, and she fumbled. Recovering before he did, she shoved past him and strode over to lean on the porch rail. It was cold enough now to send her breath steaming in clouds, to make the chill bumps rise on her skin. But the air was fresh as a wish, and that was exactly what she needed.

When his hands came to her shoulders and turned her around, she ground her teeth. “The party's inside.”

“I wanted to make sure I wasn't hallucinating.”

No, he thought, she was real enough. Cool, bare skin shivered a bit under his hands. Those big doe eyes seemed even darker, even larger. The bold blue of the dress gleamed in the starlight and clung intimately to every curve and angle before it stopped dead, teasingly high on long, firm thighs.

“God Almighty, Will, you look good enough to eat in three quick bites. And you're going to freeze your pretty butt off standing out here.”

His coat was already open. He made use of it by stepping forward and wrapping it around her, enjoying the added benefit of having that tight little body pressed up hard to his.

“Turn me loose.” She squirmed, but he had her caught, arms pinned, body trapped. “I came out here to be alone for five damn minutes.”

“Well, you should've put on a coat.” Pleased with the situation, he sniffed at her—more like a dog than a lover—and heard her muffling a chuckle. “Smell good.”

“That idiot Tess, spraying stuff on me.” But she was beginning to relax again in the warmth. “Gunking up my face.”

“It looks good gunked.” He grinned when she tipped it back to his, eyeing him pityingly.

“What's wrong with men, anyway, that they fall for this kind of stuff? What's so hot about looks that come out of pots and tubes?”

“We're weak, Will. Weak and foolish and easy. Wanna
neck?” He rooted at her throat and made her laugh.

“Cut it out, McKinnon. You ass.” But her arms were around his waist now, comfortable, and she'd forgotten what had put her in such a foul mood. “You're late,” she added. “Your parents are already here, and Zack and Shelly. I thought you weren't coming.”

“I got hung up.” He kissed her before she could duck, drew the kiss out when she forgot to protest. “Miss me?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“So?” Because he was grinning just a bit too smugly, she looked over his shoulder, through the brightly lit window at the crowd of people. “I hate parties. Everybody just stands around and yaks. What's the point?”

“Social and cultural interaction. A chance to dress up, drink for free, and ogle each other. I'm planning on ogling you once we're back inside. Unless you'd rather go off to the horse barn and let me get you out of that pretty dress.”

More intrigued with the prospect than she wanted to be, she lifted a brow. “Are those my only choices?”

“We could use my rig, but it wouldn't be as cozy.”

“Why do men think about sex day and night?”

“Because thinking's the closest thing to doing. You got anything on under this?”

“Sure. I had to slick myself down with oil to get it on.”

He winced, tried not to moan. “I deserved that. Let's go inside and stand around and yak.”

When he stepped back, the cold hit her like a slap. She shivered her way to the door. Still, she stopped with her hand on the knob, turned to him. “Ben, why have you suddenly developed this thing about getting my clothes off?”

“There's nothing sudden about it.”

He opened the door himself, nudged her inside. Very much at home, he shrugged out of his coat and tossed it over the newel post. Unlike Willa, he liked parties just fine, the noise and fuss and smells of them. People deep in conversation were sitting on the staircase with plates of food. Others jammed into the hall, spilled back through the open doors of other rooms. Most had a greeting for him, or a few
words to exchange as he kept one hand firmly on Willa's arm to prevent her escape.

Escape was what she had in mind, he knew, but he had a point to make. He was going to make it to her, and to everyone—including several duded-up cowhands who had their eye on her. The end of the old year, the beginning of the new with all its mysteries and possibilities seemed like the perfect time.

“If you'd turn loose of me a minute,” she muttered close to his ear, “I could—”

“I know what you could. I'm hanging on. Get used to it.”

“What the hell's that supposed to mean?” She could only swear under her breath as he tugged her into the great room.

Guests had moved back, making room for dancing. Ben grabbed a beer on his way and watched with pleasure as his parents executed a quick, intricate two-step.

“You can tell something about people who dance together that way,” he said.

Willa looked up at him. “What?”

“They know each other inside and out. And like what they see on both sides. Now, take them.” He inclined his head toward Nate and Tess, who were swaying—you couldn't call it dancing—on the edge of the crowd and grinning at each other. “They don't know each other yet, not all the way, but they're having a hell of a good time finding out.”

“She's just using him for sex.”

“And he looks all broken up about it, doesn't he?” With a chuckle, Ben set his beer aside. “Come on.”

Horrified, she pulled back, trying to dig in those unfamiliar heels as he towed her to the dance floor. “I can't. I don't want to. I don't know how.”

“So learn.” He put a firm hand on her waist, positioned hers on his shoulder.

“I don't dance. Everybody knows I don't dance.”

He merely propped the hand she'd taken away back on his shoulder again. “Sometimes you can go a long way following someone who knows where he's going.”

He swung her around so it was either move her feet or fall on her butt. She felt miserably clumsy, embarrassingly spotlighted. And held herself rigid as a board.

“Relax,” he murmured in her ear. “It doesn't have to hurt. Look at Lily there. Pretty as a picture with her face all flushed and her hair mussed. Brewster's having the time of his life teaching her to two-step.”

“She looks happy.”

“She is. And Jim Brewster'll be half in love with her before the dance is over. Then he'll partner up with another woman and fall half in love with her.” Because she was thinking about that and forgetting to pull back, he eased her a little closer. “That's the beauty of dancing. You get your hands on a woman, get the feel of her, the scent of her.”

“And move on to the next.”

“Sometimes you do. Sometimes you don't. Look here a minute, Willa.”

She did, saw the flicker in his eye, and barely had time to blink in shock before his mouth was on hers. He kissed her slow and deep, a stunning contrast to the quick moves of the dance. Her heart circled giddily in her chest, then seemed to plop over and thud to bursting.

She was moving with him when he lifted his head. “Why did you do that?”

The answer was simple, and he planned to be honest. “So all the men eyeing you know whose brand you're wearing these days.” And he wasn't disappointed in her reaction. Her eyes went wide with shock, then narrowed with fury. Her skin went rosy with it. Even as she hissed, he clamped his lips to hers again. “You might as well get used to that, too,” he told her. Then he stepped back. “I'll get you a drink.”

He figured by the time he got back with it, she wouldn't be tempted to throw it in his face.

Willa was thinking more about shredding his face, layer by layer, when Shelly bustled up to her. “You and Ben. I didn't have a clue. That man can keep secrets from God.” As she spoke, she steered Willa toward a corner. “When did all this start? What's going on?”

“It hasn't. Nothing.” Temper percolated dangerously. She could feel it, physically feel it, bubble under her skin. “That son of a bitch. Branding me. He said he was branding me.”