The Bride Takes a Powder (6 page)

But now, tonight something sensual
and delicious was happening to her with a virtual stranger. Maybe she'd known
Garrett too long to be still aroused by him.

Real love wouldn't end so easily,
would it?
I don't really know Mike
Banning. Why is this happening now? What if I were already married?

She was suddenly overwhelmed with
all that had happened in the last few short days. She'd upended her life. And
Garrett's. Had she ever really known him? Had she known herself? Jostled to
awareness by the sudden absence of music, she wrenched her gaze up from her mug
to the stage. The audience loudly applauded Phoebe. Giving a shaky smile, she
joined in the cheers.

Marc lifted Phoebe off the stage,
held her in his arms, and planted a good long kiss on her.

Norah's pulse quickened at the
intensity of that kiss. It was as if the two were alone in the room. When the
kiss ended, they remained in an embrace, foreheads together, soft smiles on
their faces. So much love. She stared at the table, wrapping her hands around
her beer mug. Had her whole life with Garrett been a lie? She was baffled, and
her heart ached, but her gaze was inescapably drawn to Mike's. He may as well
have been a stranger, because he was nothing like the college guy she
remembered. Maybe it was the culmination of everything that had happened in the
last few days. Maybe she felt lonely and vulnerable and needed to have her ego
stroked to prove she was actually a desirable woman.

In shock, she sat there while the
world she'd known flew apart, while she wanted to roll the icy beer stein over
flushed cheeks to cool them and knew that was impossible. People would notice.

The jostling of chairs to resettle
everyone and make room for the addition of Marc and Phoebe at the table
startled her back to reality. But even though Mike's leg pressed searingly
against hers and she dared not look down at his thigh, she ignored him and
said, "Phoebe, you were wonderful."

"Thank you. I'm so glad you
made it, Norah."

Moira caught her attention with a
friendly smile. "Norah, what brought you to our fair town?"

She raised her voice to be heard
over the combo's music now playing. "I'm just visiting. I don't really
have any plans right now."

"Visiting from where?"

She replied dismissively hoping to
repress any more questions, "I live in Chicago." The less information
she revealed, the better.

Stu the reporter said, "You
look familiar, Norah. Is this your first time in Birchwood Falls?"

"Yes." Then, "I saw
you last night at Mike's bar."

"Yup. Small town."

"Stu's a reporter for the
Morning Herald
." Tipping his head
toward the other man, Mike added, "Davy works at the paper too."

"In accounting, though, not
the glamorous world of reporting." Davy smiled toothily at Stu, who
grinned back.

"You're exciting enough, babe."
Stu stretched an arm across the back of Davy's chair.

Okay.
Gay.
Stu Pressman was the byline of the article she read this morning.
Moira Logan, also mentioned in the article, was the local prosecuting attorney.
Friends with the target of your
investigation?

"Come on, Davy, let's dance."
Stu stood, holding out his hand.

A good-looking guy came over from
the bar and asked Moira to dance. She gave him a big smile as she took his
hand.

Mike raised one eyebrow at her in
silent invitation.

She held up a hand, palm out, in an
oh no, that's not necessary
sign and
regretfully shook her head.

"Come on, let's dance. I'm not
too bad." He treated her to a confident smile. Pretty confident for
someone under investigation for committing a crime. And very attractive. This
was turning out to be a crazy town, so what the hell. It was just a dance.
Taking his hand, she rose, and followed him to the dance floor.

Mike, sliding his arm around Norah's
waist, tucked her in close—breast to chest, belly to belly, thigh to thigh.
This was where he'd wanted her since she'd first sat down at the table,
actually since he'd first seen her again in Ollie's.

He just plain wanted her. It was
amazing that someone he barely knew from his college days would be the one to
arouse his sexual hunger again. He knew pretty much all the women in town, and
none of them appealed to him as much as Norah did. Celibate for too long, he'd
been busy teaching and working in the bar. Then one day he walked into his own
place and immediately spotted her in the corner.
Damn Axel.
It would have been nice to renew their acquaintance
without her being accosted first by that jerk. But on the other hand, he'd been
able to rescue her. Knight in shining armor and all that.
Thank you, Axel.

Oh
boy.
She was a perfect fit in his arms. Beautiful and smart. Beautiful and
a great figure, can't forget that. He skimmed his hand up her back between her
jacket and silky blouse. She felt supple and firm at the same time, if that
made any sense. It did to him. She sighed softly and melted against his chest.
Spanning her narrow waist with his palm, he tightened his hold on the small of
her back. The lengths of their thighs brushed together, and he had no doubt his
swollen shaft, pressing on her belly, was a dead giveaway. It wasn't like he
could control the reaction of his cock when he held a gorgeous woman in his
arms.

"This is a fast song, Mike."
She had to press even closer and lean up to make sure he could hear her.

That made him smile. And smolder
since it crushed her breasts against him. Then she tried to strong arm herself
away.
Uh uh.
He tightened his hold. "I
know," he replied smugly, her sensual breathy words in his ear raising
goose bumps across his neck. "I'm not much of a fast dancer," he
murmured, his lips brushing her ear, his breath grazing the short strands
curled there.

It had been so long since he'd had
sex and she touched something inside him, something protective. Something
needy, something longing, yearning. The mystery of why she was in B Falls took
his mind off the shock of the cheating allegations that made him feel alone and
vulnerable. Hugs from his mom weren't exactly what he needed at the moment. A
walking wet dream was. And he intended to enjoy this as long as possible.

Happily for him the music finally
turned slow. If she wanted to back away from him, she didn't follow through.
Her hand crawled up his arm and settled primly over his shoulder. He clasped
her other hand in his and rested both on his chest. She stiffened a moment but
then, relenting, relaxed against him.

"See, I'm much better at slow,
Norah." She huffed a short laugh. He couldn't breathe, barely moved his
feet, just held her gaze, on and on, ensnared within her light eyes.
Intriguing. Compelling. Mysterious. He realized he'd never seen them in
daylight, only in the dark of his bar and this one. What color were they
anyway?

Why
is she here? Oh, what the hell. You have a beautiful woman in your arms. You're
slow dancing.
What more did he want? He almost forgot the trouble he was
in. His whole body snapped to attention, and he smothered a groan when her
fingers touched the long hair at his nape. "Thank you."

"What?" She sounded
drowsy and seductive as if just waking up after a night of intoxicating
full-out sex.

"You're making me forget my
problems," he whispered.

Her hand moved back to his
shoulder. "How can you be here with the two people investigating this?"

"Yeah, well, they're friends."
He hoped they believed in him. Moira had grown up in B Falls and had known him
for years. Stu was fairly new to town but was friends and lovers with Davy, who
would believe Mike was honorable.

Whatever.
With a soft-skinned, sweetly scented, gorgeous woman in his arms, he didn't
want to think about the crap going on in his life.

Norah shook her head. Unbelievable.
He'd been accused of cheating on test scores, and here he was hanging with the
people investigating him and then calmly dancing with her.

And
you're enjoying him, aren't you?
Good God, he felt fine, amazingly buff for
an English teacher. Although there was no reason an English teacher couldn't be
a hunk. His soft shirt clung to his torso, her palm resting under his on a hard
pectoral where she felt the solid pump of his heart. The jeans hugged his
thighs all hot and firm brushing against hers. "Isn't it a conflict of
interest for those two?"

"Mm?"

He didn't seem to be worrying about
his legal problems. "Do you know when the meetings were?"

"What meetings?"

Her eyes drifted closed at the heat
of his breath wafting on her ear. Her stomach clenched, her clit throbbed at
the feel of his large erection pressing against her belly.

"The grade changing ones,"
she murmured, almost forgetting what they were talking about.

Then he rubbed his cheek against
hers and brushed his lips over her cheek right next to the already tingling
ear.

She shivered, swallowing heavily.
He was moving a bit too fast. Maybe he was using her as a distraction to keep
his mind off the scandal. Maybe she was using him…

"I'm not thinking about that
right now. Not with a very appealing woman in my arms," he whispered.

Lord, he was holding her tightly,
and Lord, it was still wonderful. If she forgot for the moment why she was in
this town she'd say she felt safe in his arms. She should run away as fast as
possible but didn't truly want to. Running away two times in one week was
excessive. She silently chuckled at that.
Yeah,
sure, use any excuse to stay in his arms. His marvelous, glorious, welcoming
arms.

It seemed as if they'd been dancing
for hours. "Why is your hair so long?" She fingered the strands on
his collar. "Is that approved for a small-town teacher?"

He laughed, angling his neck
displaying pleasure in her touch. "No, there's no rule. You should see the
biology guy. He has a ponytail."

"How very progressive."

"This may be a small town, but
we do know about the outside world," he murmured mockingly.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry,"
she apologized. "You know, when I first saw Birchwood Falls from the
train, it appeared from the mist lit by the sun like Brigadoon. So, in a way,
it does seem like a magical town." He pulled his head back, narrowing his
gaze, she supposed to see if she was making fun of the place. She calmly met
his inspection, feeling a warm smile spread across her face.

His expression softened, his lips
parted, lashes lowering. Oh God, he was looking at her lips, lips that started
to tingle, to swell in anticipation, lips that wanted to touch his. He was
going to kiss her right here on the dance floor.
No. This can't happen. Must change subject.
"How many people
live here?"
Stupid, stupid.
In
her oddly breathy voice the inane question sounded sensual to her ears.

"About twenty-six thousand."
He murmured the ordinary response and pulled her closer, his hand splayed
across her back.

She loved and feared what he was
doing to her. This wasn't why she'd abandoned her wedding, the wedding to
another man she'd thought she was in love with. How could she have been if she
was craving the passion and heat Mike created? And she realized she already
thought of Garrett in the past tense. He was over. They were over.

In her stilettoes, she and Mike
were almost the same height. He pressed his cheek against hers, his soft breath
puffing across her ear. She couldn't stop herself, reflexively arching into
him, pressing more fiercely when he molded his hips against hers. Hard. From
the feel of it, he was big and thick. And aroused. And hot even through layers
of clothing. This was the longest slow dance of her life.

"Let's go," he suddenly
rumbled in a husky voice. He steered her over to the table to grab his jacket
and her purse then hustled her out of the club.

Surprised, she allowed him to urge
her along. She didn't think he even acknowledged their exit to his friends.

It wasn't raining, but the air,
oppressively sultry and heavy with humidity, promised impending storms. Her
hair undoubtedly was frizzing up, the fine strands tickling her cheeks. They
strolled along the river walk toward her house. A couple of the benches along
the river were occupied by snuggling couples apparently oblivious to the rain.
At times a gust of wind sent river water spraying over the sidewalk. They had
to quick-step away from a shoe drenching.

He slid his arm around her waist.
This whole evening had become incredibly strange. A sexy pregnant chanteuse. A
cop bar owner married to the songbird. A man drinking with people investigating
him. Not to mention her own baffling sexual attraction to another man right
after escaping a disastrous marriage. Feeling like a teenager, she tucked her
fingers through a belt loop on the back of his jeans. What was this? The
fifties?
Happy Days?
Bobby socks and
poodle skirts. Wow, that was way before her time. She laughed aloud, breaking
the companionable silence.

"What's so funny?"

"Sorry, I just thought of
something."

"Care to share?" he
teased.

"No, it wasn't important."
She didn't want him knowing what was in her mind. He dropped his question, and
they ambled along. Again breaking the silence because she felt she should rein
in what she feared could become her runaway libido with this guy, she said, "Well,
it shouldn't be hard to figure out who's setting you up."

"Norah, the last thing I want
to talk about is that. I am not guilty of being involved and am not worried
about it. The truth will come out. It always does," he snapped.

"Not always," she
grumbled.
But look at Garrett. The truth
actually did come out about him.