She rejoined Gigi standing at the bar with Benny, laughing in that flirty way she’d mastered.
“How’d you do?” Gigi asked letting her eyes cast to Sarah’s sweater.
“Oh, it’s fine,” she said with a little laugh that sounded to her own ears like she’d swallowed a feather. “No harm done.”
“Here you go, ma’am,” Benny said. He reached to the bar’s surface and retrieved a new cosmopolitan and handed it to Sarah. Their fingers touched and again a bolt of something new shot through her. He was turning her into a power plant.
“Thank you,” she said, focusing her gaze onto the glass and away from his dark eyes.
“Benny was just telling me he’s a retired police officer from up north.”
“Oh, wow.” Her comment was lame, but, all things considered, the fact that the two syllables were coherent was a success.
“Glendale,” he said. “You familiar with Essex County?”
“Some.” Sarah said. “I grew up in Morris.”
“Ah, a Morris girl.”
His eyes called her. She ignored them. “Yes.”
An awkward silence fell over all of them, Gigi, Benny, Sarah, and her rotten two-timing body—which at the moment was screaming at the ex-cop from Essex County, New Jersey.
“Honey, it’s my turn to visit the powder room,” Gigi said, pinching the arm of Sarah’s sweater into her fingers. “Come with me.”
Sarah knew the tone and the message in the pinch. Gigi wanted a powwow. Following, she didn’t miss the implication of her friend’s two-handed push of the ladies room door.
Sarah couldn’t help but think Gigi was on to her uncontrollable response to Benny. Her face burned with shame. The small, tiled spaced might as well have been a church confessional. She opened her mouth to begin her apology.
“Wait,” Gigi said, holding up a hand like a crossing guard.
Sarah clamped her mouth closed and did what she was told. She waited.
“A, you can’t fool me,” Gigi said.
“I…”
“And B, there’s no denying this specimen’s so into you it’s like he’s blasting it on a highway billboard.”
“Wait. What?”
“Sarah.” Gigi laughed and placed her hands on Sarah’s upper arms. She gave them a squeeze. “I’ll kill you if you don’t seize this moment.”
“But, he’s your Rottweiler.”
“No, I spotted him. But, he’s all yours, honey.”
“Gigi, I don’t have this in me. I’m out tonight to come off the panic attack I’m having over that filed complaint. Really, that’s all I can think about.”
“Hold up. Tell me what the letter said.”
Sarah unzipped her purse, withdrew the folded envelope, and thrust it at Gigi.
Gigi unfolded the letter and scanned it silently. As she did, her mouth dropped more and more open.
Finally, Gigi lifted her gaze from the page and gave Sarah a penetrating stare. “Well, this is bullshit.”
“I’ve established that, yes. Now I need a plan.”
Gigi grazed her palm over the points of her coiffure. “Let’s take one step at a time.”
She lifted the document and waved it in the air like a flag. “I’m coming with you on Monday night to town hall. I want to see with my own eyes which neighbor complained about what you, as the owner, plan for your inn. Basically, A, I’m aghast that anyone would be so rotten. And, B, I might bring a pea shooter.”
“I just want to make my sunroom look nicer, and host my child’s wedding.”
“No such inn may hold parties of any kind without petitioning for town permission.” Gigi looked up from the text and gave the page a slap. “You know this is only happening because some ass made a case out of it. Who’d do this?”
“I can’t imagine,” Sarah said. “But, I guess I’ll find out on Monday night.”
“With me right by your side, pal.”
Sarah forced a smile. “Okay, but no pea shooters.” Sarah tucked the letter back into her purse and tugged the zipper closed with a demonstrative gesture.
“No promises. We’ll deal with that when the time comes, Sarah.” Gigi motioned her head toward the door. “Right now there’s a very interested man out there.”
“I don’t know. Maybe you’re imagining things.”
“Am I?” Gigi narrowed her eyes, almost daring Sarah to deny it.
She had no choice but to be honest. After all, they were in a veritable confession booth. “What should I do?”
Gigi spun Sarah toward the door. “Go out there and make us proud.”
The music had started again with Pete Bailey and his boys banging out a not-too-awful version of an old standard.
Out of nowhere Norman Wallace, the mailman, appeared at their side, eyes beaming at Sarah. He’d abandoned his gray and blue postal getup for a pair of trousers and an Argyle sweater.
“Hi,” he said to the group. His gaze returned to her. “Want to dance, Sarah?”
She peered at the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the room. Three couples swayed under dim lighting. She took a long, slow sip of her cosmo, filling her mouth with the tangy substance while she thought up an excuse.
“How about me, there Normie? Will I do?” Gigi drawled.
Sarah swallowed hard nearly gagging on the huge amount of drink she’d just guzzled.
“Um, yeah, sure,” Norman said. It was too dark to know for sure, but Sarah guessed he’d flushed like a school girl at the offer. Hopefully the guy had more moves than that little cha-cha he’d displayed on her front porch.
“Well, come on then.” Gigi placed her glass on the bar. “Twirl me around till I tell you to stop.”
They left Sarah alone with the boiler-maker from Essex County that was currently wreaking havoc with her nerve-endings. Again, they stood in silence, more awkward now that Gigi had left. She didn’t know what to do with her eyes or her hands. How long could she stare at her dwindling drink?
“Dance with me.” It was a soft, gentle statement without hint of question.
She looked up. Shadows hit the angles of his face in such a way that the mysterious appearance he’d worn earlier had morphed into a smokiness that billowed to her. The vapor seeped into and through her being.
Hesitation flooded her brain, but her body was a different story. Charges of glee spread through her veins, roaring in beat with the music. There was a war going on inside her, but one faction had all the power and she knew it.
Gulping the last of her drink, she handed him the empty glass and looked him dead in the eye. “Sure.”
Chapter Two
His arms were strong but she knew they’d be. He smelled good, something earthy and visceral and Sarah was intoxicated by it. Well, that and one-and-a-half cosmos.
Benny moved well, slow and rhythmically. Without words she felt his body communicating with hers, telling it how and when to move, left then right, forward and back. They didn’t miss a step as though they were one entity.
Her combination of drunkenness on his scent and the ingested vodka allowed her to relax into the dance. She let herself move freely, easing closer into his arms. This was dangerous. And it was stimulating. For the first time in more years than she could count Sarah was acutely aware of being alive.
Benny pressed his face against the side of hers, temple to temple, one throbbing pulse calling to the other. Sarah lifted her gaze, breaking the contact of their skin. The movement placed her mouth just a breath from his lips. She felt her old self hovering above this new creature she had become tonight. Without a second thought, Sarah acquiesced to the urges whirling within her. Her lips parted as his head bent forward, his mouth pressing onto hers in a kiss she felt to her toes. She didn’t even know his last name. She didn’t care. I don’t even know who the hell I am!
****
Benny moved his mouth over hers, enjoying her taste, both sweet and spicy, a mingling dichotomy he guessed personified this Sarah person.
He held her tight, her body melded against his. He felt her warmth and let it bathe him, dull his mind of any other thought than this. There’d be time later for warnings to trickle in, time to rationalize his behavior. But, for now, it was just the two of them, nothing before and nothing after. Just the dance. He curled her hand to his chest and pressed it close.
His first regret arrived when the music ended. The world around them reappeared—the sounds of people talking, the staccato of appreciative, clapping hands. It was time to release his arms and let her go. He didn’t want to.
She lifted her head from his shoulder and tendered him a shy smile, her full just-kissed lips closed. Her hazel eyes were filled with smokiness and an expression that went deep. Even at first glance he had seen that they were filled with a kind of knowing—as if all the experiences of her lifetime, and perhaps other lifetimes before, were written right there in the amber in their depths.
Their parting felt awkward, disjointed. As they walked silently back to the bar, the next regret came hard. He knew this had been a bad idea. Very bad.
Sure, he had liked her look the moment he’d laid eyes on her. She and her friend, Gigi, were an attractive pair. He knew immediately that the off-beat looking Gigi had given him “the eye.” And, truthfully, he didn’t mind her demonstrative flirtation, found her type interesting.
But, there was something about Sarah, the unpretentious woman whose more conservative appearance did not pale in comparison to her friend. Her natural appeal was what drew him to act totally unlike himself, to go against his ironclad resolve.
His brother Sal would laugh like hell if he had seen little brother Benny pretzeled around a virtual stranger in a beat-up little beach bar. Sal would have most likely slapped him on the back, given one of his raucous whoops, and told him to go get lucky.
He watched Sarah as she walked ahead of him, her hips’ gentle sway a subtle sight with a not-so-subtle impact to his senses. He looked away.
Benny didn’t approach this kind of woman, even when he found them attractive. He’d learned it never ended well. His marriage had been a quick disaster, like an earthquake that rocked a stable place in mere seconds before leaving it in shambles.
In the years that followed, Benny had liked to go it alone. He’d had his share of one-nighters and brief encounters where he and a woman both had no expectations beyond the moment. That had been enough for him. Plenty.
He hadn’t even wanted to come to this godforsaken place. This was the price he paid for giving into Sal’s cockamamie idea to go in on a flip property at the shore. Mr. Bigshot Captain of Glendale’s PD, Sal, was still working, so it became Benny’s job to do some cleanup work to the ramshackle house they’d bought. “Pretty it up just enough to unload it,” Sal had said.
Wordlessly he and Sarah headed back to their parked drinks at the bar. Gigi and “Normie” greeted them. Benny nodded as though he were listening. What he was actually doing was imploring himself to get the hell out of there before the music started again.
He really needed to close the book on this night and this woman. Yet all he could think of was their dance.
****
Sarah was shell-shocked. She furnished polite responses to her friends’ conversation, but her mind reeled with images of what had happened on the dance floor.
Her brain teased her with thoughts of her brazen body and how it had smothered everything she believed about herself. It rattled her. She ran her hands over her clothing as though smoothing out wrinkles, but it was really her feeble attempt to cast off the general effect of this stranger named Benny.
Sarah saw that Gigi had switched to diet soda. She grabbed the glass from her and took a big swallow. The cold, fizzy liquid chilled her insides. Hopefully it could quench the damned flame therein.
“Pete’s doing quite a job tonight,” Gigi said. Sarah knew by the sultry tone that the comment meant more than a mere compliment to the combo’s rendition of Sinatra. She and Gigi were in sync enough that Sarah knew the reference was for her daring behavior.
“It’s getting late, though, Gigi. Maybe we should head out.” Sarah did her best to keep the pleading tone out of her voice. She wanted to get far away from this man that turned her into a hussy—a shameless one.
“So, Benny, what brings you to Ronan’s Harbor?” Gigi asked sweetly, ignoring Sarah’s request entirely.
“My brother and I bought a little place down on Ocean.”
“Oh?” she said with exaggerated interest. “So, you’re a permanent import.”
“Not exactly,” Benny said.
“Fair warning, once you come to Ronan’s Harbor, the town and its people get into your blood,” Gigi said. “Right, Sarah?”
She smiled at her friend, instead of wringing her neck.
“Norman here has been the mailman in town all his adult life, haven’t you Norman?”
“Yes, ma’am. I have the happenings of the whole town with me every day in my leather bag. Everybody’s news comes through me, good or bad.”
He turned to Sarah. “Sorry, by the way, about your news, Sarah. Word’s out you’ve got some problems but I’m sure you’ll work them out.”
“Thanks, Norman. I’m sure I will.”
“Well, Norman, you might want to come down to town hall for the meeting on Monday,” Gigi said. “Together Sarah and I are going to challenge that stupid complaint. You might see a free fireworks display.”
She turned her attention to Benny. “Some idiot filed a complaint against Sarah’s bed-and-breakfast.”
He focused his piercing gaze on Sarah. She felt an urge to elaborate, one of her nervous habits. “All I want to do is make a nice space so I can host my daughter’s wedding. I’d like to know why that should be a problem for anybody.”
He nodded his angular head, as though he’d quickly assessed her words and found them sound. She guessed it was probably a cop thing. But, whatever prompted his approval didn’t matter.
She liked that he saw the validity in her protest. She liked him.
His eyes locked onto hers again, holding them, wooing them.
Her heart raced, her mind reeling with quickly-flashing possibilities for the meaning of the message she read in his dark orbs. It was like peeking in though a darkened doorway. She was too curious to turn away.
Finally, Benny spoke and the spell released. It was only then that Sarah realized she’d been holding her breath. “I should say good night.”
It was as if a faucet had been turned to stop the flow of her body’s reactions. A crazy sting of disappoint snapped at her.
As if in slow motion she watched Benny’s hand misjudge the proximity of the bar’s surface. His half-full beer glass tipped at the edge and crashed to the floor. The glass cracked in chunks, the liquid spilling at his feet.
Sarah reached for the paper towels left from the stack she’d used to mop up her own spilled drink. She handed them to Benny and their eyes met again.
“I’m an idiot.”
Something in his apologetic sound warmed her, but a warning in her brain blew it cold. Don’t, her mind cautioned. She knew she’d be a total goner if she succumbed to any sign of vulnerability in the magnetic Rottweiler, a beseeching mix too appealing to shun.
“Don’t be silly,” Sarah said. She did her best to clear her mind. “I spilled a drink, too, remember?”
He mopped the beer from his pant leg, his shoe, and the floor. His chuckle sounded more like embarrassment.
Stop. She had no words and made no effort to assist. Dear God, she couldn’t touch him again, especially when he was wet.
“Well that settles it, I guess. Time to go,” he said.
She swallowed hard. Although she’d been the first to say it, she didn’t want to leave and she didn’t want him to go either. Her subconscious shouted at her—Stay! Let’s dance.
He offered a small grin. “Nice meeting you, Sarah.” He turned and nodded. “You, too, Gigi.” He extended his hand. “Norman.”
“I�
�m sure we’ll see you again,” Gigi said slyly. “It’s a small town.”
“Yes,” he said. “It is.”
****
Before she knew it, Sarah and Gigi were back outside The Pier House heading to Gigi’s car. Propelled by the off-shore breeze and the shock of her behavior, Sarah nearly ran.
There’d be time later to fully regret her boldness, but for the moment, just one delicious minute, she relished the feeling. She felt like a daredevil—or as much of one that she’d ever been in her whole life.
However, she could not help but acknowledge the observation that in one short evening a strange man had conjured more emotion in her than anyone ever had. Wanton desire had zoomed through her veins, and her veins liked it.
The truth was Benny had made a quick exit. His body language had changed with his drink’s spill. He hadn’t asked to see her again and hadn’t asked for her number.
She shook her head. And what if he had? Her breath stalled in her chest. She tried to close out all thoughts about him, but her mind was alive with scenarios.
He hadn’t stuck around long enough for any real conversation, hadn’t revealed a thing about himself. And he knew nothing concrete about her.
Her mind posted a billboard—What exactly was that? Sarah’s throat was dry and her swallow scratched. It wouldn’t take a library shelf’s self-help book to convince her she had hit the pinnacle of her stupidity. Sarah Doodle lived and reined.
“Don’t.” Gigi’s voice broke Sarah’s reverie.
“Don’t what? Vomit?”
“Stop it.”
“Gigi, what the hell is wrong with me? This guy shows up out of nowhere and I wrap myself around him on the dance floor and actually kiss him? Did you see the way he made a beeline out of the place as if it was on fire?”
Sarah groaned and covered her face with her hands. She smelled the earthiness of his cologne on her skin. Her hands jerked away.
“Well, I did smell some smoke.” Gigi flashed a wicked look. “Felt the heat from your flames. And the feeling was mutual, apparently. Hell, you made the poor guy so nervous he spilled his beer all over the place.”
Letters and Lace (The Ronan's Harbor Series) Page 3
