by Cindi Myers
“Come on.” She pulled him toward an archway. “I think there’s a library or den through here.” She tried to recall the layout of the house from previous theater parties. They passed groups of familiar faces and exchanged hellos, but didn’t stop. Finally, they came to another archway, one that led to a room filled with bookcases and comfortable furniture. One end was dominated by a large, flat-panel television, which at the moment was switched off.
“We can sit here,” Angela said. She set her half-full plate of food on the coffee table and settled onto a chintz-covered loveseat.
Bryan sat beside her. “I never realized before how many people were associated with the theater,” he said.
“Oh, everyone here isn’t part of the group,” she said. “A lot of them are friends or family, or simply people who enjoy a good party.”
He smiled. “Like me.”
While he finished off the food on his plate and looked around the room, Angela studied him out of the corner of her eye. On closer inspection, he wasn’t movie star handsome. His eyebrows were a little too thick, and his nose a bit too narrow. But there was an arresting quality to his face, a live-liness in his eyes and warmth in his smile that drew people to him. Especially women. “Do women hit on you a lot?” she asked.
He coughed, choking on a cracker, then hastily took a drink.
“What kind of a question is that?” he asked.
“I was just wondering if that kind of thing is the same for men and women. Not that I’ve had experience,” she hastened to add, “but I know guys hit on Tanya all the time.”
“Um, I guess I never thought about it much,” he said, looking sheepish.
She laughed. “They probably do, but what guy is going to complain? Am I right?”
He shook his head. “Maybe you could say I’m getting more particular as I get older.”
“Particular?”
“I guess that’s what you’d call it. There are types of women I used to go for who don’t interest me so much anymore.” His eyes met hers and she felt a jolt of renewed heat. The message he was sending was clear enough—that he could go for her. She just didn’t understand why a guy like him was looking at her that way.
He was the first to look away and she let out the breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. She liked that she’d unsettled him a little, thrown him off balance. It made her feel more in control of her own feelings. “You said maybe Tanya is waiting for the one right person,” she said. “Do you really believe there’s only one right person for each of us?”
“Maybe not for everybody, but for some people, yeah.” His gaze met hers, serious and intense. “Is it so crazy to think that some people are drawn to each other because they’re meant to be together?”
So much for being in control of her feelings. Right now, her heart was racing so hard she fully expected that if she looked down she’d see the ruffles at the neck of her blouse fluttering from the vibrations. Was Bryan trying to tell her something, or was she reading more than she should into his look? “It’s a nice idea, isn’t it?” she said, keeping her voice light. “Tell me more about this idea of there being types of women. What types of women do you categorize?”
“I can’t give away all my secrets,” he said. “It would go against the code.”
“The code?”
“The man code. All the things we’re sworn not to reveal to the opposite sex.”
“When do you swear this? Is there some ceremony I don’t know about?”
He looked very serious. “Women aren’t supposed to know about it. It involves guy stuff—beer and dirt and blood and stuff.”
“I’ll bet there’s a clubhouse and a no girls allowed sign, too.”
“You’ve obviously been spying.”
She laughed and without thought, put a hand on his arm. His muscles tensed beneath her fingers, and he turned toward her and covered her hand with his own. “I love to hear you laugh,” he said.
The sound caught in her throat. She froze, mesmerized by the intensity of his gaze. She wanted to tell him how easy it was to laugh when she was with him. How tempting it was to let down her guard with him in spite of all her insecurities.
“There’s something I’ve really been wanting to do,” he said.
“What’s that?”
He took her drink from her hand and set it on the coffee table. “This.” He leaned closer and his lips touched hers, warm and firm.
Chapter Seven
Angela gave a small cry of surprise, but made no move to pull away. In fact, she leaned toward Bryan and put one hand on his shoulder, as if to steady herself—or to keep him from leaving her.
He deepened the kiss, and with a second sigh she relaxed into his caress, eyes closed, every sense focused on the feel of his mouth against hers. He kissed with the intensity of a man determined to savor every sensation, his mouth moving gently against hers. His tongue touched her lips and she opened to him, inviting him in. She tasted the sweet malt of beer and felt his heat flowing into her, warming her. She kneaded the hard muscle of his shoulder, as if clinging to him allowed her to hold on to some semblance of control. But she’d been in control—and alone—for so many years now. The idea of abandoning herself to this heady mixture of lust and longing tempted her mightily.
Then he lifted his head and drew back. She opened her eyes and found him watching her, like a man who was trying to decide if he’d made a mistake or not. “What?” she asked. “Why are you looking at me that way?”
“I’m waiting to see if you’re going to slap me.”
His answer was so unexpected, she choked back a laugh. “If you thought I’d slap you, why did you kiss me?”
“Some things are worth taking a chance on.”
“So you think that kiss was worth the risk.”
“Yes. Don’t you?”
She wet her lips, which still felt hot and sensitive. “Yes. Yes, I do. And I won’t slap you.”
“Then maybe we should try again.” He leaned toward her once more, but loud voices in the hallway made them freeze, then draw apart.
“What are you two doing hiding in here?” Zephyr entered the room, followed by Trish. Face flushed, dreadlocks sticking out at wild angles, Zephyr looked like a man who’d been enjoying himself quite a bit. He sank into a chair opposite the loveseat and grinned at them. “What are you two up to?”
Bryan and Angela exchanged glances. What were they up to, indeed, she wondered. Had they just exchanged a harmless, enjoyable kiss, or did Bryan mean for this to be the beginning of something more?
And how much more? On the relationship scale, a kiss could mean everything from friends with benefits to the beginning of true love. In her experience, it wasn’t always easy to determine where the man intended for things to end up. Another one of those secrets of the man code that weren’t revealed to women.
Mistaking physical attraction for true love had gotten her into trouble before, but she didn’t want to make the mistake of not taking Bryan seriously if he was. Aargh. It was enough to make a woman want to tear her hair out—or the man’s.
She watched as he laughed and joked with Zephyr, and she fixed a pleasant smile on her own face as Trish addressed her. And here she thought her greatest roles had all been on the stage. Pretending indifference while her heart was racing so wildly from the aftereffects of Bryan’s kiss was a true test of her acting abilities.
WHILE BRYAN CHATTED with Zephyr and Trish, he was acutely aware of the woman beside him. Every time he turned toward her, the faint aroma of her perfume tickled his senses. Had the others noted her flushed cheeks and slightly swollen lips? And what must his own face look like, though he struggled not to betray his emotions.
The kiss affected him more than he’d expected. He’d intended the moment to be playful, an overture to a renewed effort to convince her to go out with him. Instead, as soon as their lips touched he’d felt her tremble. Such vulnerability in a woman who seemed so strong surprised and touched him.
He’d started to pull away, and then she’d leaned into him. Her lips had parted, inviting him in, and he’d felt her yearning, and answered it with a desire of his own.
The heat of that moment burned through him still. Zephyr was his best friend, but his interruption couldn’t have been more ill timed. All Bryan wanted was to be alone with Angela, to explore the feelings between them further.
He told himself he’d have plenty of time. They’d ridden to the party together and would eventually leave together. Then, before she left him at his car, he’d convince her that they owed it to themselves to explore their feelings.
“Have you seen the outfit Max came up with for the Flauschink parade float?” Zephyr asked.
Bryan shook his head. “He said something about a pair of long johns.”
“Not just any long johns,” Trish said. “These are bright red, with a flap in the back.”
“Casey knitted him this long, red-and-white striped nightcap,” Zephyr said. “It rules! He says he’s going to wear it to the polka party the night before.”
Polka was only one of the wacky traditions associated with Flauschink. The ball was the first public appearance of the Flauschink king and queen, who ruled over the festivities with their toilet plunger scepters. Their loyal subjects attended the ball in costume. “What are you going as?” Bryan asked.
“Trish and I wanted to come up with coordinating costumes,” Zephyr said.
“I suggested we go as a horse,” Trish said. “He could be the back half.”
Zephyr ignored this dig. “We decided to go as Mr. and Mrs. Yeti,” he said.
“Mrs. Yeti looks just like Mr. Yeti, except she has false eyelashes and a wreath of flowers on her head,” Trish said. “Although I have to admit, the costumes I found look more like shaggy polar bears.”
“That sounds hilarious,” Angela said, laughing. She turned to Bryan. “What’s your costume going to be?”
He’d been too busy to even think about the ball. “You first,” he said. “Or are you going as your character in I Hate Hamlet?”
“I can’t go to the ball,” she said. “I promised Tanya I’d babysit.”
“Too bad,” Zephyr said. “It’s always a great party. So ’fess up, Bry. What’s your costume this year?” Not waiting for an answer, he turned to Angela. “He always comes up with the craziest costumes. One year, he and I came as Cheech and Chong—you know, the pot-smoking hippie dudes that were popular back in my mom and dad’s day. Another year, Bryan wore a lampshade on his head. He carried this huge martini glass, taped confetti all over his body, and wore a sign that said ‘The Life of the Party.’ It was so perfect.”
Angela studied him, a faint smile on her face. “I’d like to have seen that.”
“I’m sure somebody has pictures somewhere,” Zephyr said. “I could ask around.”
“Don’t bother,” Bryan said.
“You still haven’t told us what your costume’s gonna be this year,” Zephyr said.
“I might stay home this year,” Bryan said. If Angela wasn’t going to be there, why bother?
“That’s certainly not like you,” Trish said.
“Yeah, you never miss a party, dude.”
When would people stop seeing him as a slacker who was only out for a good time? “There’s more to life than parties,” he said.
“You’re working too hard,” Zephyr said. “Phelps is a slave driver.”
“No, he’s not. It takes a lot to keep a big hotel going. I’m learning how much.”
“You’re not having fun doing it,” Zephyr said.
“Life’s not just about having fun,” Bryan snapped. He was tired of Zephyr giving him a hard time about his decision to change his life. Why couldn’t his friend accept him without judging him?
“Hey, chill,” Zephyr said. “What’s gotten into you?”
Bryan rubbed his head, where the beginning of a headache pounded. “Nothing.” He stood. “Maybe I just need some air.”
He gave a half-hearted wave goodbye, then left the room.
Angela came after him. “Are you okay?” she asked, touching his shoulder.
“I’m sorry I snapped at Zephyr,” he said. “I didn’t mean to put a damper on the evening.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m tired, too. Maybe we should go.”
“If you’re sure you don’t mind.”
She nodded. “I’m ready to leave. Really.”
They said their goodbyes, collected their coats and left. In Angela’s car, darkness and silence surrounded them. The lights of distant houses glowed like fireflies among the dark pines up against the shadowed slopes of the mountains. Only a handful of stars showed in the sky, glittering like shards of broken glass.
Bryan stared at these pinpricks of light and tried to think of some way to bring up the kiss he and Angela had shared. Maybe it hadn’t affected her the way it had him. Maybe the attraction was all one-sided.
But no, he couldn’t be wrong about that. She’d melted in his arms, soft and pliant and tempting as the rich fudge that drew people to her store.
She cleared her throat. “About that kiss—”
“It was an amazing kiss,” he said, turning toward her.
She gripped the steering wheel more firmly and kept her eyes focused straight ahead. “Yes. Yes, it was.”
“Then you agree there’s something between us. Something special.”
She hesitated, as if debating her answer. “I know I’m very attracted to you,” she said finally.
“I’ve been attracted to you since the first day I saw you.”
“You have?” She glanced at him. “Why? I mean, I’m not saying I don’t have my charms, but I’m not the type to turn most men’s heads.”
Was she being overly modest, or did she really think that? “You turned my head. I can’t explain it. I just…Maybe some things are beyond explaining. I wasn’t looking for anyone and then…there you were.”
She smiled, some of the tension draining from her face. “I never realized you were such a romantic.”
“I’m not. Not really.” He ran his hand through his hair, struggling to get the right words out. “I guess lately I’m finding out all kinds of new things about myself.”
“What kind of things?” she asked.
“How I like my job, for one. Even the boring parts. I like it because it’s getting me closer to my dream. For the first time in a long time, instead of just letting life happen to me, I’m making things happen.”
She pulled to the curb behind his parked car. When she’d shut off the engine, she turned to him. “What is your dream?” she asked.
“I want to own a boutique inn,” he said without hesitation. “An exclusive place that would specialize in luxury accommodations, gourmet food and personal service. More than a bed-and-breakfast but much smaller than the Elevation. Maybe twenty or thirty rooms with a restaurant and bar and some meeting rooms for conferences or weddings and other events.”
“You’ve really thought this out, haven’t you?”
“I’ve been thinking about it for years. I’ve spent hours online, researching similar places in the U.S. and Europe. I’ve thought about how to market it, where to get the money to start. But I knew I needed more experience in the business side of things. And I needed to earn the cash to put into property. This job at the Elevation is giving me that.”
“It sounds wonderful. I know you’ll do a great job.”
“You have your own business. You know what it’s like to take an idea and make it a reality.”
She nodded. “It can be pretty scary sometimes. But rewarding, too.”
“You understand. That’s another thing I like about you.”
She smiled, though she still looked shaky. “When you say things like that, I really do think you’re perfect.”
The words sent a nervous shudder through him. “I don’t know about perfect,” he said. “But I think we ought to take these feelings and see where they lead.”
> Her smile vanished once more. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”
“Why not? Are you hung up on all the talk about my partying past?” He scowled. “I’m not like that anymore.”
“No, it’s not that!” The idea clearly shocked her. “I don’t see you that way at all.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“It’s just—” She rubbed her palms up and down the steering wheel. “You could have any woman in town you want. I’ve seen the way they act around you. You’re good-looking and charming and—”
“But I don’t want any of those women. I want you.”
She dropped her hands to her lap. “I guess I’m having a hard time believing that.”
“Then let me prove it.” He unsnapped his seat belt and moved over to her. Gently, he turned her head toward his and kissed her again.
At the touch of her lips, he felt her surrender, the stiffness going out of her shoulders. She slid her arms around him and pulled him close, her breasts soft against his chest. He ran one hand down her side, tracing the curve of her hip, then braced his hand against the driver’s side door to lean even closer.
The steering wheel jabbed him in the back, and one hand got tangled in her seat belt. It was a ridiculous position to be in, and yet he didn’t care. Making out in the front seat of her car, the windows fogging around him, felt dangerous and exciting in spite of the physical awkwardness.
They finally broke the kiss, breathing hard. “Maybe we’d better stop now,” she said.
“Yeah.” He disentangled himself and sat back, a little disoriented by the direction the evening had taken. “Can I see you again soon?”
“You’ll see me when we work on the float, and again at the Flauschink parade.”
Her deliberate avoidance of the real question annoyed him. “You know that’s not what I mean.”
“I know.” She touched the back of his hand. “I shouldn’t play games. I want to be honest with you.”
“Good. We should be honest with each other.”
“Then give me a little more time.” She squeezed his hand. “I need to get used to the idea of us as a couple—and to other people seeing us that way.”
