Authors: Donna Richards
“It’s okay, Angie.” He reassured her again. “I promised you we, or at least I, would be completely incognito and I meant it.” He gripped the bottom of the plastic mask with both hands. “But, do you mind if I took this off now? I don’t think anyone can see.”
“Oh yes, please.” She helped him shed the torture device. His sweat-plastered hair combined with the rivulets of moisture running down his cheeks went straight to her heart. He did this for her. She leaned close to his ear. “Thank you.”
His dimple deepened. “So you had a good time, if only for a little while?” He mopped his face with a handkerchief.
“It was wonderful, like a dream…better than a dream.”
“Better than a dream?”
She nodded. “I’ll remember all of this, the costume, the decorations, the dance, long after I wake up.”
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His hand sought hers for a gentle squeeze. “What did you like the best?”
She leaned back in the seat, closed her eyes and reveled that her hand still nestled inside of his. How could she tell him all that this evening of firsts meant to her? First costume, first dance, first date.
Not a
date
, a voice tried to remind her. She refused to listen.
He jiggled her hand. “Come on, you can’t go to sleep on me. The evening is too young.” She reluctantly opened her eyes, not quite ready for reality.
“Tell me,” he teased. “What did you like the most?”
“That you asked me.” The words slipped out before she could pull them back.
The jovial humor faded from his eyes, replaced by something else, something that warmed every inch of skin touched by the fantasy costume. Delicious.
“Angie?” He kissed the back of her hand. Her spine melted into the upholstery. “There’s something I need to tell you…” His breath bathed the back of her hand, causing the tips of her breasts to tingle.
“Something I need to explain.”
“Here you go, folks.” The cab driver pulled the cab up to the curb in front of her house. “Thirty-seven fifteen Plum Street.”
“Wait for me?” Hank whispered, releasing her hand. As he settled with the driver, Angie allowed herself a moment to recover before she let herself out the side door. She drew deep breaths of the autumn-tinged air into her lungs, sharp, cold, a whisper of smoke, a hint of dead leaves.
The fresh air chased away her amorous illusions.
I’m only a substitute
date. Get hold of yourself.
“Angie?” She jumped a little, not realizing he was there.
“Figures.” He looked off in the distance, a smile teasing his lips. “My natural face is scarier than the mask.”
They laughed all the way to the front door. She fished out her house key from her tiny whimsical drawstring bag purchased just for this evening, slipped the key in the lock and turned till the tumblers clicked.
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The dark empty house loomed in front of her. The phone was ringing, probably her mother wanting details about the evening, or Stephen wondering why she dismissed the limo. Let them wait. She wasn’t ready to discuss this magical evening with others. She turned to face Hank.
“I think this is the part where I turn back into a char woman,” she said, recalling her favorite fairy tale. She held out her hand for a handshake. “I had a wonderful time.”
He looked briefly at her outstretched hand. “I think you may have your fairy tales mixed-up.” His arms closed around her back and pulled her close. “I’m the bewitched one.”
His lips met hers, softly, inquisitive. The tip of his tongue slid around the seam of her closed lips before retreating. He pulled back, slowly. Her arms wrapped around his neck.
“Now I can return to my former handsome state,” he whispered, then arched an eyebrow. “I was handsome, wasn’t I?”
She nodded slowly, still dazed by the kiss.
His hands slid down to her waist. “I had a wonderful time tonight, Angela.” He kissed her softly on her cheek. “Thank you for coming with me. I’m in your debt.” He stepped back and took all that glorious warmth with him. She shivered in its absence.
“Good night now,” he said, before turning toward the cab.
“Wait.” She had to stop him, but she wasn’t sure why. She wrapped her hand around one of the posts, feeling the need for support. “Maybe you’d like to come in for some coffee or something?”
He smiled. She barely saw the flash of his dimple in the porch light.
“Coffee would be nice,” he said, signaling to the cab. He returned to the porch.
She led the way to the kitchen, mentally scolding herself for not buying some fancy gourmet coffee, the kind he had served her last weekend. But then, she hadn’t considered anything beyond the ball itself. After silencing the insistent answering machine and putting Oreo out in the yard, she retrieved a mug from a cabinet. Standing on tiptoe, 180
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she tried to reach a tin of coffee her mother kept on a high shelf. Her fingertips barely grazed the side of the tin.
“Here, let me get that for you,” Hank said, stepping up behind her. He reached over her head, but his arm kept bumping into her delicate wings. “Tell you what,” he said, stepping aside. “Why don’t I make the coffee while you go change out of that contraption.”
Embarrassing warmth tinged her cheeks at his suggestion that she undress, but she recognized its practicality. Although perfect for dancing, the wings made even sitting difficult.
Leaving him in the kitchen, she climbed the steps, slipped out of her costume, then stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror. No matter how magical the evening, a seven-inch scar still bisected her chest. No amount of fairy dust could change that reality. Disenchanted, she reached for a T-shirt. Just as well. As much as she might dream otherwise, Hank had clearly said that this was not a date. He already had a “normal” girlfriend, one without hideous scars. The scent of freshly brewed coffee drifted up the stairs reminding her that he waited below.
She reached for her jeans. He probably expected her to drive him home anyway. She took one last glance at the mirror. For the first time in her life, she wondered if just being alive was enough.
“Just in time,” Hank said, pausing in his arrangement of biscotti on a plate. “I hope you don’t mind, I raided the pantry and found this.”
“Sure, no problem.” She picked up the plate and a glass of water.
“Shall we go into the sitting room? It’s more comfortable there.”
She sat near the arm of the couch, expecting him to select the nearby chair. Instead he sat next to her, his weight on the cushions shifting her body closer to his.
“You were beautiful tonight.” Her face warmed under his compliment.
“And witty, and charming, and graceful— “
“Not graceful,” she protested, thinking of her leg brace. Her brace!
She’d forgotten to put it back on when she’d changed upstairs. Was that why she felt lighter than gauze?
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“Definitely graceful,” he said, looping his arm around the back of the couch behind her. “But you look much more comfortable in this.” He tugged at the short sleeve of her T-shirt.
Looks can be deceiving
, she thought as his fingertips raised excited goosebumps on her forearm.
He was so close, intimately close. She put her glass on the table, afraid to risk exposing her shaking hands.
“Thank you for inviting me for coffee,” he said. “I wasn’t ready for the evening to end.”
“You too?” she said, surprised to hear her own thoughts echoed. She twisted a little to face him. “Tonight was like magic.” She closed her eyes to recall every delicious moment. “It was—”
His lips captured her unspoken words and transformed them into pure sensation, eliciting responses more powerful than words could allow. Her body reacted instinctively, as if to an awakened memory of internal urging. His tongue played along the seam of her mouth and she opened, giving him access. The tight spring of tension coiled beneath her ribcage loosened, sending warm rippling waves of desire along her nerve endings. A deep groan rose between them. She didn’t know who initiated it, but the sweet vibrations from the sound resonated through her body like a tuning fork.
He tugged on her arm, loosening it from where it wrapped around his shoulders. Following his lead, she let her hand slide down his torso, exploring the ribs and muscles she had fantasized about while staring at his stiff oxford shirts. He led her hand to the hard bulge at his crotch, then released her.
Not sure what she was expected to do, she explored the area with her fingertips, pressing and stroking. She felt more than heard another groan, and knew this time it was coming from Hank. Cupping the area with her hand, she felt him pushing, straining against her.
He pulled his lips from hers. “Angel, you know I want you.” He kissed her neck, just below her ear. “You can feel how much I want to bury myself deep within you.” She pressed, just to see if she was interpreting 182
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his words correctly. His eyes squeezed shut and he swore under his breath. She thrilled with her newfound power.
“I think I’ve wanted you from that first time you attacked me in the woods.” His lips pulled into a slight smile, “But we have to talk.”
“No, we don’t,” she said. Her body cried for more of his caresses, for the friction of skin on skin. Instinctively she knew talking would move them in the opposite direction.
“But Angel.” He dragged his fingertips down the side of her face, brushing stray hairs behind her ear. He kissed her neck. “I have to explain.”
“No. I don’t want to hear it.” She pushed on his chest so he would pull back enough to see her face. “Hank, you’ve given me so many firsts these past weeks. Can’t you give me one more?”
He looked drowsy, dazed, not at all like the controlled, self-possessed executive she knew him to be. She resisted the urge to kiss him again.
He needed to understand what exactly she wanted, needed.
“You want me to make love to you?”
Yes! Yes! Yes! Every inch of her body responded. She nodded slowly.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. There are things about me you don’t understand.”
“I understand that I want this.” She struggled to keep the pleading tone out of her voice. “I may never have another opportunity.”
“Angie, I’m sure there’ll be—”
She covered his mouth with her hand, knowing what the rest of the sentence would be. She’d heard it too many times from her mother, from her brother, and from her doctors. But she knew better than them all that each moment was a gift, not to be thrown away. She wanted this moment of shared physical intimacy more than she had ever wanted anything before. “Please, do this for me.”
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she longed for them to be. “It’s not that I don’t want to make love to you.
Lord knows there’s nothing I want more right now but—”
If her words hadn’t convinced him, her actions would have to. She pressed her body full against him. She sucked hungrily at his lower lip, then with desperate bravado, she slipped her hand inside the waistband of his pants.
He drew back and studied her face. Did her eyes reflect hungry intent the way his did? If so, he had to know how much she wanted this.
“Okay, okay you win,” he said. “But if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do this right.” He scooped her up in his arms. “Just tell me where.”
Although her mother had a bed large enough to accommodate them, making love in her bed would be sacrilegious. Her own room held too many childhood memories for comfort. Stephen’s bedroom had been turned into a storage room not long after he moved out. “Here,” she said after her quick analysis. “We can put that quilt on the floor.” She pointed to the Tree of Life quilt her mother had pieced together when Angie had her transplant.
Holding her securely in his arms, Hank looked first at the quilt, then at the floor, then at her. “Where are your car keys?”
“In my purse in the hall closet. Why?” she asked. He carried her into the hallway. “Where are we going?”
“To my house.”
“Why?” she asked, trying to peer around his determined jaw to his eyes.
“Beds.”
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He had only given her part of his reasoning. Hank slowed for a traffic light. Even though rug burn was a small price to pay for fulfilling a fantasy he’d carried inside since that day in the woods, the real reason for returning to his house was far more practical. He had only anticipated a stirring good-night kiss or two at the end of the evening, nothing that would require the kind of protection that he kept tucked away in a bedside table. Judging from Angie’s inexperience, condoms were not the sort of thing she could produce on a moment’s notice. At least this way he could love her the way she deserved to be loved. She’d be isolated enough that she could scream at the intense pleasure he intended to give her. Heck, they both could.
“What are you smiling at?” she asked from the passenger side of the car.
“Oh, I was just thinking…planning,” he said.
“I was talking to the dog,” she said, scratching the furry head that poked between the front seats. “Thanks for letting me bring her along. I hated to leave her alone tonight after having been gone earlier.”
“As long as she stays out of our room,” he reminded her.
Our room.
He liked the sound of that. It had a permanence that felt right.
“You’ll be good, won’t you, girl?” She rubbed under Oreo’s furry chin.
Hank turned into the long driveway and parked Angie’s car in front of the garage. “We’ll go in the front,” he said, realizing as the words left his mouth that he was stating the obvious. Anticipation must have him rattled. Still, he didn’t want to spook Angie with the sight of Elizabeth’s corvette. He had tried once again to explain that even though he didn’t www.samhainpublishing.com 185