Damon, Lee (19 page)

"O'Mara!"

"Sorry," he choked. "No pun intended. But if you'd been a properly brought up young lady instead of trailing around with all those blunt-speaking athletes, you'd never have interpreted it that way."

The again-sapphire eyes laughed up at her, and the thickening tension in the room was suddenly dissipated.

"Kitt? Were you and Midge really miffed about those women coming over to talk to us?"

"Ummm. I don't know if that's quite the word. Mildly annoyed? Provoked? Yeah. Provoked comes closer. Really, O'Mara, we'd only been gone five minutes!"

"Ten." It was a teasing incitement. - "Whatever. It still didn't seem long enough for you two to become so damn bored you had to collect a harem."

"Jealous?" he drawled, giving her an assessing look.

"No!" She bent over him, narrow-eyed, trying to read his bland expression. "Are you trying to pick a fight?"

"Not at all. There's no point in picking a fight with you until you're in shape to make it worthwhile."

"Now what are you talking about?" she wailed in exasperation.

"Making up after our fights. That's going to be the best part, although," he murmured consideringly, "there could be some other interesting moments."

"But I don't—Oh!" She felt her face warm with telltale color as she finally caught onto his teasing. "O'Mara, I'm beginning to think you have a one-track mind."

"Not really," he chuckled, bringing her hand to his mouth and kissing her palm. She felt the jolt of heat up her arm as his tongue flicked over the sensitive center. "But I will admit that, for right now, I'm concentrating on how to get you over this little problem you have about letting me touch you. Once we've got that out of the way, we can go on to other things."

"There you go again with your 'little problem,' which you know—"

"What I know is that you've kissed me more than once today and managed to stand still while I kissed you. Not really a proper kiss, perhaps, but we're getting there. You didn't panic when I put my arm around you when we were coming home tonight, and you're not only not panicking right now, you're being downright provocative."

"You know I wasn't deliberately—"

"Hush. I know you weren't thinking about what you were doing. But don't you see? That's the point. You were following your instincts. You wanted to touch me, so you did. I could see it in your face; you were leaning back with your eyes closed and a hint of a smile, enjoying the feel of me under your hands. Not only were you not trying to arouse me, it didn't even enter your head that you might be doing so."

"How do you know—"

"It's exactly the way I feel about you, love. I want to touch you." He stroked one hand slowly up her arm under the wide sleeve of her caftan. "I want to feel your skin under my hands and the shape of your body pressing against mine. I want to excite you and feel the heat rising in you and know that it's all there for me." His voice had become a hoarse whisper, his eyes again darkened .to indigo.

Her breathing had shortened and her heartbeat quickened as he talked love to her. She could feel her nipples hardening, and her breasts seemed to swell in the constriction of the light bra she was wearing. Mesmerized by the dark heat of his eyes, she nevertheless felt a cold, hard knot of incipient fear in her center.

Something must have shown in her face, because he suddenly lunged to his feet and stood at the end of the sofa with his back toward her, his dark head bent and his feet slightly apart as if he were having trouble balancing. His shirt moved, stretching across the muscled back, and she knew he was rebuttoning it.

She sat forward on the edge of the sofa with her eyes fixed on his back. Half of her wanted him to come back down beside her and take her in his arms. Maybe more than half. Most of her. But there was still that one small part that recoiled and screamed "No!" at the thought of hard arms closing around her and the heavy weight of a male body pressing her down and trapping her, a victim of whatever dark demons took possession of him in the flame of passion. She bent forward with an inarticulate moan and buried her face in her hands.

"Don't, love. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... I didn't intend to scare you. Kitt? Are you crying?"

His voice was strained and low, close to her ear. She could feel his warm breath on her temple, and his hands seemed to be almost trembling as they gently smoothed back her hair. There were little tugs at her nape, and she realized that he was pulling the pins from her chignon. Keeping her head down, she spread her fingers just enough to see that he was kneeling in front of her.

"Kitt?" He was finger-combing her thick hair out of the twisted knot and spreading it over her shoulders.

"I'm all right," she whispered, brushing her fingers across her eyes and then straightening up partway but still leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. She lifted her head and discovered the worried blue eyes only inches away. Lifting her hands to his face, she trailed her fingers lightly across his hard cheekbones and down to the corners of his mouth. With intent concentration, she watched her finger graze back and forth across his lower lip until he finally caught the end of it between his lips. She felt his tongue licking around the fingertip and raised her eyes to meet his.

Drawing back a bit, he brought his hands down to capture hers and then leaned forward again until his mouth was a bare inch away from her suddenly dry lips. Nervously, she ran her tongue over them, watching his head tilt slightly and come closer.

"Do that again," he whispered. "Now." And his mouth was shaping itself to hers. Her breath caught painfully in her throat as she hesitated, and then with a sigh she parted her lips against his and slowly traced the inner curve of his bottom lip with the tip of her tongue. There was a sense of familiarity in the flood of pleasure washing through her, and she had a flashing memory of sitting in the front seat of his car, his arms around her, excitement coursing through her as he taught her how to kiss him.

Strange. I never kissed Leon like this. Never even wanted to. Oh!
His tongue touched hers, teasing, coaxing, until he caught the tip gently between his teeth. At the first hint of her withdrawal, he moved his head back just enough so he could look at her. The smoky eyes were clouded with the beginning of passion, and her mouth was soft, half-parted, asking for more.

Still holding her hands, he leaned forward to brush his mouth slowly across hers and then brought them both up to their feet.

"You have some decaffeinated coffee, don't you?"

"Hmmm?"

"Come along, love. We could both do with a cup of coffee, but neither one of us needs any more stimulation. You've had enough for now, and I've had..." His voice caught in his throat and he cleared it before finishing, "almost more than I can take."

Kitt was only half-hearing his words. Still in a state of emotional confusion, not quite sure exactly what had happened between them, she fixed unfocused eyes on his mouth and watched the words forming without understanding what they were.

"Kitt!"

"Hmmm?"

"Coffee."

"Oh."

"Oh what?" he asked patiently, trying not to laugh.

"Would you like some coffee?" she asked dreamily.

"That would be very nice. Thank you." His shoulders shook as he watched her weave an erratic course toward the kitchen.

"Welcome." She drifted across the kitchen, not bothering to put on a light, and started filling the kettle.

"Oh, love," he moaned, "at least see if you can get the kettle onto the same burner that you turn on. I'll dole out the coffee." He entered the kitchen, flipping on the light over the sink, and reached for the mugs. "At the rate you're going, we'd probably end up with dog-food mush."

"Hmmm? Did you want something to eat?"

"No, love." He leaned back against the counter, smiling indulgently, and watched her wander over to open the refrigerator. "What are you looking for, Kitt?"

"Dog food?" She frowned, puzzled. "Why do you want dog food?"

"I don't. Ah... do you keep it in the refrigerator?"

"I don't think so. Maybe I'm looking for something else?"

"Oh, Kitt!" he gasped, "I can't stand it!" He reached past her shoulder and plucked a jar of potent whole-seed mustard out of the door-shelf, thumbed off the cap and waved the open jar under her nose.

Two breaths later, she jerked her head back, blinked, gasped and doubled over in a hard sneeze. Straightening up, she gave him an irate glare, opened her mouth, and sneezed again.

"Damn. What do you think you're doing? And why mustard? I thought we were having coffee."

"We are. I had to do something to bring you out of your fog. Settle down now, I want to talk with you. No, not in there. We'll sit at the counter. At the moment, the combination of you and a sofa is more than I can handle."

"Okay," she sighed. "If you insist." She swung around on the stool to face him. "So what are we going to talk about? Your harem?"

"No, you witch, and it had nothing to do with harems. I knew four of them, and the others were simply friends of theirs. You going to listen?"

"Yes." She gave him a wry smile and shrugged. "But you're not really going to be telling me something I don't already know. You're well known around here as Michael Talbot, a celebrity, a famous author. That alone would draw a lot of women. Add the fact that you're tall, dark and handsome and have those
wicked
blue eyes, and really, O'Mara, one wonders why you're not perpetually leading a parade of panting popsies!"

His head went back and he shouted with laughter. Moments later, gasping for breath, wicked eyes glittering, he managed to moan, "Oh, you wretched woman. What an appalling picture. It's never in the world as bad as that! 'A parade of panting popsies'!? I think maybe we should get you your own typewriter and turn you loose. You just might end up making more money than I do and collecting your own coterie of crooning Casanovas!"

Kitt broke up in a fit of giggles, finally gurgling, "Never!"

"You're right. I wouldn't put up with it for a minute. However," he continued, sighing gustily, "there's not much I can do about the attention I sometimes receive in public. For several reasons, I am well known in the area, and not just because I'm Michael Talbot. There's also Gus, and I've become involved in sports and school activities with him, which means I've met half the parents in town. Then there's the fact that I've been a bachelor ever since I've moved here, and get invited to a lot of parties, to say nothing of the handful of genuine friends I've made. So, incidents like that in the lounge are bound to occur sometimes when we're out."

"O'Mara," she said in exasperation, "do you really believe that I'm going to get all warped out of shape because a bunch of poor, misguided, overeager women drape themselves all over you? Oh, stop laughing. And I'm not jealous. It was just... well, I guess it was a kind of envy because... because I couldn't be that relaxed and uninhibited with you, and I want to be."

"And that little performance you and Midge put on? What was that all about, then?"

"Ahhh, well, it was partly pique," she explained, intently examining her fingernails, "and partly to prove something to Midge. She was having... temporary insecurity problems, and I decided to demonstrate her... high appeal as bear bait."

"Bless us one and all," O'Mara groaned. "You twit, you just about sent Ez around the bend."

"Hmmm," Kitt murmured noncommittally, an enigmatic look making her eyes seem even more slanted than usual.

"Yeah. Well, all right, I was none too pleased myself. You have no idea, my love, of your effect on the male population. You could have sealed every envelope in town with the tongues hanging out in that room. If you've reached the point where you want to try out your wiles," he said, his voice dropping to a seductive purr, "I'm always available and don't mind at all being used as a guinea pig."

Eyes glinting with mischief, she fluttered her lashes at him and purred just as seductively, "Thank you. I'll put your application right in the front of my file."

"Sassy. Very sassy. Watch it, wench," he warned, "I'm keeping score."

"And thinking up interesting forms of retribution?"

"All in good time." He stood and stretched, his eyes going to the kitchen clock. "Good Lord, no wonder you're looking so smudgy-eyed. It's almost two. Where the hell is Ez? For that matter, I'm not exactly wide awake myself. Do you realize we've been up since five this morning?"

"Yes, indeed, and I'm about ready for bed. You don't have to wait for Ez. All the doors are locked, and he's got his own key. I'm alone here all week, you know."

"Not quite. You've usually got Hero. By the way, I'll bring him back in the morning."

"Okay. Look, you really don't have to wait. Who knows when he's coming back? You won't get any sleep."

"Sure I will. Just give me a pillow and a blanket. That couch is plenty long enough."

"Don't be ridiculous! You can't—"

"Unless you'd like to share?"

Meeting his level look, she reached out to take his hands in a convulsive grip, and there was pain in her eyes when she said, "You know I
want
to, but—"

"I know. But be patient, love. After today, I don't think it's going to take all that long to knock down those hurdles. Aha, the building shaketh as in an earth tremor. Ez has arrived."

"You still here, O'Mara? Or are you staying over?"

Jacket dangling from a finger, tie gone, shirt half-undone, and looking extremely pleased with himself, Ez strolled through the door.

"Oh, my, yes, indeed," said O'Mara with a knowing smile. "If I ever saw a bear who'd been sampling the honey... and I wouldn't dream of asking what she did to your hair. But, ah... why braids? No!" He held up a hand. "Please don't tell us. We can spend a quiet evening this week making up our own story."

"I have no intention of explaining anything," Ez said loftily, eyeing Kitt as she walked a slow circle around him, examining his head from ail angles.

"What I want to know," stated Kitt with obvious interest, "is how long it took her to do all those tiny braids. You look like Bo Derek after she met Jack the Clipper."