Damon, Lee (21 page)

She turned her head slightly and opened one eye to find O'Mara's mouth an inch away from her own. "Mmmm. The toads in this neighborhood are certainly improving." She slipped one hand around his neck and pulled his mouth down to hers, kissing him with soft lips and slowly stroking tongue-tip in that way that was rapidly becoming habit again. Drawing back a bit, she opened both eyes wide and looked at him wonderingly. "Good heavens," she breathed. "It works!"

"Of course." He grinned smugly at her and settled himself more comfortably on the floor beside the sofa. With the hand on her shoulder, he pushed her back and nestled his head into the curve of her neck, his other hand coming up to stroke her cheek and play with her ear. At the gentle tugging of her fingers in his hair, he sighed and relaxed against her, closing his eyes.

"What's going on down the hall?" he murmured.

"I sent Midge to wake up Ez."

"Oh, my."

"Mmmm. But she deserved it, and I told her so. It took me forever to undo her handiwork. Doesn't sound as if he's too upset. She's giggling. Did you get any sleep?"

"Enough. I don't need much. I can manage for quite a while on four or five hours a night. On the other hand, I wouldn't mind another couple hours right now with you."

"I can't imagine that you're very comfortable there on the floor."

"You'd be surprised. By the way, what have you got on under that?" he asked, tugging on her caftan.

"Ahhh, nothing."

"Wretched woman," he groaned. "You had to tell me."

"You asked."

"Why don't we go curl up together on your bed and—"

"Hey, you two," bellowed Ez, leaning over the back of the sofa, "enough of this lollygagging around. I'm starving. What's for breakfast?"

"If we ignore it, maybe it will go away," Kitt whispered. At that moment, she could have wished her adored twin six feet under a rising tide. She wanted to savor the peace and the feeling of rightness of O'Mara's head resting on her shoulder, his warm breath against her throat, and the soothing movements of his hands.

"No such luck," O'Mara growled. "I can hear its stomach rumbling from here."

Sounds of cabinet doors opening and closing and the muted thump of the refrigerator door were quickly followed by Midge's clear voice complaining, "There's nothing to eat! We must have cleaned you out yesterday morning, Kitt."

"Oh, hell," O'Mara groaned. He lifted his head, turned Kitt's face toward him and, totally ignoring the interested presence of Midge and Ez, kissed her slowly and thoroughly, shifting so that all his weight was on his elbow and she knew she was free to move away if she wanted to.

She didn't. After an initial tensing, she relaxed and slid her hands around his neck. A slow, heated languor spread through her, and she was pleasantly jolted by his teasing tongue opening her mouth and leisurely exploring its smooth contours. She could feel his blood pounding under her hands as they stroked the warm skin stretched taut over the strong muscles and tendons of his neck.

And then it was over, and she opened drowsy eyes to be caught in the indigo blaze of his. A breathy "O'Mara" was all she could manage.

Regaining control of his immediate inclinations, he forced a nearly normal smile and said huskily, "If I thought it would work, I'd give them ten bucks and send them out for breakfast. However—"

He rose smoothly to his feet, then bent over the sofa and, with little apparent effort, lifted Kitt into his arms and started carrying her toward the hall. Her protesting "O'Mara!" was drowned out by his deep-voiced complaint of "Some peoples' brothers have absolutely no understanding of a recently transformed toad's need for peace and privacy in which to enjoy his new princely privileges."

"Ha!" Ez exploded. "And you talk about my convoluted language!"

"O'Mara! Wait!" called Midge to his disappearing back. "Aren't we going to have breakfast?"

Her only answer was the slam of Kitt's bedroom door as O'Mara kicked it closed behind him. Grinning down at a laughing Kitt, he leaned back against the door, still cradling her in his arms.

"Idiot. Put me down before you do something awful to your back. I'm not exactly a featherweight."

"Never mind that. The big question is 'are you afraid?' You don't seem to be, if the way you're clinging to my shoulders is any clue."

"No, not at all," she said in slowly dawning amazement.

With a satisfied expression, he gradually let her legs down until she was standing. Shifting his hands to rest lightly over her hips, he brought her a step forward to rest the full length of her softly curving body against his. Her arms were still around his neck, and she tightened them now to bring his mouth down to hers.

Nothing had changed in the last five minutes. The same heat washed through her body, and she could feel the increased beat of his heart against her breasts. With a pang of remorse, she sensed the strain he was enduring to keep from crushing her against him. Her mind was rapidly becoming fuzzy as his seeking tongue accelerated her arousal, but she was still aware of the tremor in his hands as he fought to keep their touch light while they skimmed slowly over her hips and up the long, supple contours of her waist and ribs to come to rest against the outer curves of her breasts. Mindlessly, instinctively, she thrust her hips and pelvis against him, and it was not until she felt the hard ridge of his arousal pressing against her belly that the first chill of fear uncoiled deep inside and sent its muscle-tensing message to her brain.

By then, they were so closely linked in their private rapport that he sensed her burgeoning fear almost as soon as she did, and he unhurriedly but firmly ended the kiss and moved her a step back, breaking the contact of their bodies. He held her steady with his hands still high on her ribs, his palms against the sides of her breasts. Desire glazed their eyes as they looked at each other with matching triumphant smiles.

"Okay?"

"Yes. It didn't have time to get a hold."

"I'm getting so I can sense it sooner and stop before you begin to panic."

"It's getting longer each time before the fear comes."

"Is it gone now?"

"Yes."

"Then take hold of my wrists so you know you're in control, and stand still."

With his eyes fixed intently on hers, watching and judging her reactions, he slowly and very gently moved his hands forward, curving them to fit the soft swell of her breasts. Her hold closed tightly around his wrists, but she didn't push him away. With waves of pleasure sweeping through her, she heard herself moan his name as her back arched to press her swelling breasts into his hands.

Then, suddenly, the warm, enveloping pressure was gone, and she was spun around, his hands gripping her shoulders, his forehead resting against the crown of her head.

"God, love, any more of this and I'll have you on that bed, ready or not." His deep voice was an agonized groan, and she could feel his breath gusting hard and fast against the back of her neck. "Get into some clothes, lots of clothes, and we'll all go out for breakfast."

"Okay. Lots of clothes." With great effort, she gathered her wandering wits and regulated her breathing. "Ah, it would be easier if you'd let go of me." She moved several steps away as his hands dropped, and half turned to give him a teasing look. "It would also be quicker if you waited out there with the odd couple."

"You're absolutely right." He ran his fingers through his thick hair, pushing back the swath from his forehead but ignoring it when it promptly slid forward again. He stopped halfway out the door, looking back at her with a wicked gleam. "Be prepared. When we get you over this minor obstacle, we're going off by ourselves somewhere and we aren't going to get out of bed for at least a week."

"Only a week?" Kitt asked demurely, but with a gleam that was nearly as wicked as his.

"You mean you can go longer than that without food?" Chuckling, he closed the door on her startled expression and strolled down the hall singing
Roll Me Over in the Clover.

It was a relaxed, laughing group seated around the table in the small Dock Square restaurant a short while later. At nine on a weekday morning, there were only a few other customers, and O'Mara and Midge exchanged greetings with most of them, as well as with the waitress and the young counter-girl. Although she was intelligent and remarkably quick-witted, Midge was still young enough and unsophisticated enough to derive considerable satisfaction from the admiring and interested looks directed at her companions. Casting an encompassing glance around the room, she realized that they were drawing the same half-envious, half-fascinated attention that had been centered on them the evening before at the Tidal Inlet.

"Midge? Something wrong?" Ez's rumble came from above her right ear, and she tilted her head back to look up at him.

"Not really. It's just..." She groped for words, trying to explain her sudden uncertainty in a tactful way. "I noticed it last night and now again here—wherever we all go together, everyone seems to stare and... well, look at those two girls over there. I went to high school with them, and they're looking at me as if I'd grown two heads."

Ez directed his gaze over her head to the girls, whispering together across a table against the wall, their eyes fixed in obvious envy on the group by the window. Pure mischief lighted his blue-gray eyes as he turned to O'Mara and Kitt and quirked an eyebrow. Midge watched curiously as the three exchanged silent messages, devilry dancing in their eyes, and then leaned back in their chairs and toasted each other with their coffee cups.

"I'm going to have to run as soon as we eat." Ez's hearty tones bounced off the walls of the small room. "We should make some plans for next weekend, so I'll know what clothes to bring with me."

"Will you be here in time for dinner Friday?" Kitt's clear alto easily carried to the openly listening ears of the other patrons. At Ez's nod, she continued, "Why don't we plan on going somewhere special, then? Midge and I are going to have a busy week, and we won't feel like cooking at the end of it." She turned to O'Mara with a blatantly seductive smile and smoky eyes that raised the pulse rate of the four men watching from the counter.

Midge's eyes were wide with delighted fascination as she realized what they were doing, and she fought to hold back a giggle as O'Mara's heartstoppingly sensual smile and deep purr of "Of course we'll take you out, love" brought a flush to Kitt's cheeks and audible moans from at least three of the enthralled women in their captive audience.

Moving his arm from the back of Kitt's chair to her shoulders, he pulled her closer and kissed the corner of her mouth. With obvious effort, he tore his eyes away from her and smiled warmly at Midge. "What do you think, Midge? The Standish Reef at Cape Elizabeth? If I call today, we should be able to get a window table."

"Oh, yes," Midge exclaimed happily, picking up her cue without losing a beat. "That view over the ledges when there's a good surf is incredible, and they've got a great group playing in the lounge." She looked up at Ez with an impish grin. "We can dance after dinner."

There was a moment of silence while her tall companions tried to envision tiny Midge dancing with Ez.

"It boggles the mind," O'Mara groaned.

"Stilts, maybe?" Kitt offered.

"Dancing is an overrated sport," Ez proclaimed. "We'll sit in a dark corner and neck." The comment set them all laughing and brought shocked gasps from several of their audience.

Midge dug an elbow into his ribs and hissed "Ez!" Enclosing the back of her head in one large hand, he leaned over and stage-whispered in her ear, "Don't worry, honey, we'll save the heavy stuff for when I take you home." Since Ez's idea of a whisper could easily be heard in the kitchen over the rattle of pans, it was little wonder that Midge's ex-schoolmates were staring in open-mouthed, goggle-eyed dismay and envy.

Making a quick decision in favor of savoir faire, Midge shrugged nonchalantly and caroled, "Promises, promises."

Before Ez could say anything even more outrageous, the waitress arrived with their breakfasts, and they all settled down to concentrate on hot muffins, cheese and fresh mushroom or sausage omelettes, O'Brien potatoes, ham steaks and thick slices of toasted homemade honey-wheat bread. They shared a pitcher of orange juice and jars of marmalade and blueberry preserves.

"Good cook," said Ez, buttering a muffin thick with blueberries.

"All the baked stuff is made here," Midge explained.

"This omelette is super," Kitt murmured. "So are the potatoes. Ez! Don't pig the ham. Let me try some. Ummm. Mustard."

O'Mara watched her enjoyment with a fond smile. "This is the best place for breakfast for miles around." He eyed Midge's plate and asked off-handedly, "Is that a sausage omelette? How is it?"

"Scrumptious. But I'll never finish it all." She looked up at him hesitantly. No matter what Ez and Kitt called him, she was very much aware that this incredibly sexy and famous man who seemed to want to share her breakfast was actually
the
Michael Talbot. A quick glance around showed her that no one had left the restaurant; they all seemed to be held enthralled by the four people at the window table. She looked back at O'Mara's questioning expression and offered, "Would you like some of it?"

"Thought you'd never ask." His warm smile flashed white against his early tan as he held his plate out to Midge.

"What about me?" Ez asked plaintively.

"If you eat any more, old son, you'll flatten every tire on your wagon," teased O'Mara. "Kitt, grab that last muffin before he gets it. We'll split it. Do you want some, Midge?"

"Uh-uh. I'm stuffed. We've got Friday night taken care of, but what about the rest of the weekend? There's a really good theater company doing
The Taming of the Shrew
at the Civic Center in Portland on Saturday evening. How about that?"

"Sounds good," said Ez, splitting a villainous look between Midge and Kitt. "We might pick up some useful ideas, don't you think, O'Mara?"

The bright blue eyes flashed an amused look at a scowling Kitt, then flicked to a bristling Midge before returning to Ez's anticipatory expression. "No comment. You can easily hold that one at arm's length where she can't do any damage, but this one is definitely a challenge to control without acquiring dents, bruises and a lump or two. Feisty, both of them, but a gentle hand on the reins—"