Riding the Storm (23 page)

She
tossed her empty plate into a nearby trash can, but held on to her drink, which
turned out to be pretty tasty.

The
earthy sound of the music strummed low in her belly, the slow beat tugging at
something deep in her soul. The cherry bounce, full of what Leo had called
"white lightning," lived up to its name, streaking through her veins
like a live wire, sparking nerve endings all over her body. Sensation wrapped
around her until she could feel everything—the sultry air, the vibrations from
the French accordion… the very night itself seemed to caress her skin.

Around
her, the celebration bloomed like a moonflower, as though the wedding revelers
had been waiting for dusk to let loose. People had been dancing when she and
Remy arrived, but by now, jackets and shoes had come off, ties were loosened or
abandoned and several had changed into casual clothing.

Haley
kicked off her own boots, and even now as she moved to the music, she wanted to
rid herself of the rest of her clothing. The fabric plastered to her body, a
barrier between her and the raw essence of the night, where insects and frogs
sang from the surrounding bayou, audible between the band's songs.

Grass
tickled her toes as she closed her eyes and let herself sway in the center of
the dancers. She had no idea where Remy had gone off to, but she wondered if
he'd join her, would fit his body to hers the way so many of the couples next
to her were doing.

They
could pretend to be a couple, pretend to be more than casual lovers. Squeezing
her eyes shut, she drew herself into the fantasy, imagined his breath caressing
her cheek, his hands pulling her against him until their bodies met and the
friction between them caused smoke.

Sweet
mercy, she could float around in that fantasy for forever, and for a few
minutes she let everything go—her job, her life—and wished they could stay here
in the bayou a little while longer.

Lost
in her imaginary world, she didn't feel the tug on her dress at first. Then
something stepped on her foot, and she looked down to see a small girl, maybe
five or so, smiling up at her.

"Dance?"

"I'd
love to."

Haley
took the child's hand and whirled her around, had the time of her life for a
couple of songs, and then someone grabbed her, and she twirled through the
crowd, trading partners and enjoying herself like never before. When a strong
hand grasped hers and pulled her close, she grinned.

But
it wasn't Remy. She peered up at the teen, lanky and tall, straddling the
border between boy and man. She tried to picture Remy at a similar age,
enjoying himself and trying to pick up women, but something told her he'd
skipped this, had gone from kid—if he'd ever truly been one—to man overnight.

She
certainly couldn't picture him grabbing her butt as awkwardly as this boy was
doing now. She peeled his fingers from her body but held on to his hand. The
kid's cheeks burned red, a cute combination of embarrassment and guilt.

"Let
me give you a piece of advice, Randy."

"It's
Jacob, ma'am."

"Whatever."
She pulled him against her, forcing him to dance. "See, women hate to be
groped like that. You'll never get laid if you run around molesting us."

She
turned him toward a threesome of teenage girls near the water's edge. "See
that blonde with the braids? She's been staring at you. Go ask her to dance,
but don't touch her on any part of her body that would be covered by a
conservative bathing suit. Okay? Trust me, you'll get a lot further than if you
grab her ass like a caveman."

The
kid's cheeks turned the color of her cherry drink. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you,
ma'am."

He
ambled off, and she grinned as he and the blonde joined the crowd. She looked
around for Remy, and was finally rewarded with a glimpse of him near the food
pavilion, a plate in hand, talking with David. Remy leaned casually against a
support pole, appearing relaxed, not a care in the world, but she knew he had
his eye on everything and everyone, and he knew exactly where she was, even
though he never once glanced in her direction.

Damn,
he was fine. Chiseled, hard features, sleek, powerful muscles and an aura of
danger and competence that made women drool and back away at the same time.

She
drooled, but she'd never back away. In fact, she should go to him, tell him
they needed to get back. But moving to the music felt too good to stop. Too
freeing. Too… sexy.

The
gauzy skirt wrapped around her legs, molding to her shape, brushing her inner
thighs in the lightest of caresses. She'd never felt so sexy in her life.

Or so
hot.

She
held her cup to her forehead, let the cool contents ease her fever. She dragged
it down her cheek, to her throat, then her chest. The condensation dripped down
the cup and onto her skin, tickling and cooling as it trickled between her
breasts.

Throwing
her head back, she rolled her hips, let herself feel the night, the music, the
sensation of cold drink on fevered flesh. No doubt they'd leave soon, and then
it was back to the job.

The
job that no longer included screwing Remy for science.

A
pang of regret wrenched in her gut. She didn't need science as an excuse to
sleep with him; she'd do it anyway. But would he want to, now that Mother
Nature wasn't messing with him? Probably not, and the idea that she'd been
nothing more than a receptacle hadn't bothered her until now.

Sure,
he'd been fiercely aroused as he lay beneath her in the boat, but he was a man.
A man with a woman straddling him. If he hadn't gotten an erection she'd have
wondered about him.

But
could he truly desire her now, especially knowing how she'd lied to him?

And
why did she care?

Maybe
because although she'd had boyfriends, none had ever wanted her the way Remy
had.

Needed,
not wanted, you idiot.

She
sighed and took a drink of her cherry stuff, her eyes still closed. When she
opened them, Remy was staring at her. She couldn't breathe, could hardly
swallow.

The
twilight shadows concealed the intent in his gaze, but nothing could hide the
intensity. Around her, the darkness swallowed the party until she could see
only Remy. The laughter and music faded until all she heard was the beat of her
own heart pounding in her ears. Her tattoo tingled and burned, and she thought
back to all the other times it had done the same, and suddenly, she understood
what it meant.

Remy
wanted sex.

And
there was nary a storm to be seen.

It
had been a long time since Remy had wanted sex, because normally he didn't have
a chance to want. To desire. To feel. No, it was always a driving, pulsing need
that tore through him like the hurricanes he always seemed to be right in the
center of.

But
seeing Haley, her body swaying to the zydeco beat, the flowing skirt brushing
her calves and damned near see-through, the way the neckline of the peasant
blouse accentuated her full breasts…

He
ached for her when he should be running from her—far away. And he couldn't
decide which feeling was going to win out. He wanted her, but the idea, the
feeling of being a normal man was almost too overwhelming for him. He shifted,
the bulge in his pants becoming more obvious. His tattoo began to draw
attention to itself, to tingle and burn, and he saw Haley had her hand pressed
against her own tattoo.

The
air was different around here. He hadn't actually lied when he'd told her
earlier that the bayou was a magical place. He'd always believed it was, now
more than ever.

That
same magic connected him to another person in a way he couldn't begin to
understand. And he was strangely calm about it.

The
physical exertion of fixing the roof had released some of the tension he'd been
holding on to since discovering the tattoo, but the work was nowhere near what
he should've needed to relax. He'd had one drink, and although the brew was
strong, it wasn't nearly enough.

He
wondered how they could know about his drawings, his dreams, what he'd wished
for so long ago that it almost seemed like it had happened in a different
lifetime.

The
true love spell one of his father's girlfriends had taught him had come first.
A childish whim of a lonely kid playing with something he didn't understand and
wishing so hard for a girl who could understand him. The drawing in his sleep
had come next—always the symbol that was Haley's tattoo that he'd included in
the spell as a way for him to actually tell when that true love arrived, drawn
crudely at first, perfected in his waking hours when he spent his time coming
up with comic book characters. Superheroes.

But
he wasn't paper and pen or that same little boy. No, he was flesh and blood
man, mixed with magic. And he didn't need a tattoo to let him know how he was
starting to feel about Haley.

When
a slow, steady beat began to play and couples started to melt into each other,
Haley motioned for him to come closer.

He
pushed away from the tree and ambled toward her, his pace deliberate.
Predatory.

He
stood before her for a second before taking her into his arms, pressing his
body to hers, their hips swaying together as one unit.

"The
bayou seems to agree with you,
chere"
he murmured.

"I
didn't think there was this much fun to be had in a swamp," she said. She
held up her wrist to show him the ribbon she'd tied around it. From the end
dangled a fake gold wedding band. "I pulled the lucky trinket from the
cake."

He
chuckled softly. "The women always think that's the lucky trinket. The
guys don't always have the same reaction."

She
smiled up at him. "Your friends are nice."

"They're
not my friends."

"They
seem to like you."

He
smiled. "I guess they do."

"I
like you too, T-Remy," she said. "Even though you're a moody pain in
the ass, I like you."

He
wanted to answer her, to ask for more, but he couldn't. Instead, he pressed his
arousal against her while her hands caressed the back of his neck, moved into
his hair and pulled him down for a long, slow kiss.

"Let's
go, Haley," he said when they broke apart, his voice timbered low and
heavy; he knew he wasn't going to be able to wait much longer for her.

"I
have to give these clothes back," she said.

"If
anyone's getting you out of those clothes, it's going to be me," he told
her. "We can do that right here, if you'd like."

His
nostrils flared slightly, seeking her scent, and her cheeks flushed.
Wordlessly, she took his hand, grabbed her boots, and followed him down to the
dock. She let him pick her up and place her in the boat, and when he pushed
off, all he could think about was finding a private spot under the tall cover
of cypress to lay her down and take her.

He couldn't
remember when, if ever, the last time was he'd really enjoyed sex, when he'd
actually shattered under someone's touch.

Yeah,
he got off, but it was always like someone else was at the wheel, and fuck, he
was tired of that. He wanted to—needed to—feel, and Haley made him shiver in
all the right places.

Normally,
it was all about release, keeping the woman safe and keeping his sanity. With
her, it was different. He could explore. She knew, and she was still here.
Wanted more. Part of his brain, the part trained from an early age never to
trust, wondered at her motive, because he knew he wanted far more from her than
just release.

The
part that wanted to shatter told him to continue thinking with his dick.
Because he planned to explore every bit of her with his tongue, his mouth…

Nothing
to lose, T-Remy. Nothing to lose…

Haley
looked startled when he steered the boat into a deserted cove. For a minute,
she actually gripped the sides of the boat in fight-or-night mode, until he
peeled off his T-shirt. And then she smiled, rubbed her own hands over her
breasts, her face bearing the dreamy look of too much alcohol and pent-up
desire.

"I
don't get this," he said, his voice rougher than usual. "I should
hate you for the way you tricked me, should be telling you to go back to your
agency with a big fuck off from me to them. But I can't."

"Then
don't," she said, making it sound so simple.

Desire
was supposed to be simple. Uncomplicated.

He
refused to think about the fact that they might be mind-fucking him, that Haley
was in on a plan to hypnotize him into joining her agency. Wouldn't allow
himself to think about anything but the feel of her body in his arms.

Dusk
was threatening, but while they still had light, he had plans. He unbuttoned
his pants, enjoying the way she bit her bottom lip when he let them drop.

For
the second time that day, he eased himself to the bottom of the boat and
propped himself onto his elbows.