by Lori Wilde
“Great.” Nate grinned. “I’ll pick you up at six. The show starts at seven-thirty.”
A date. The last time she’d had a date, Peter had taken her out on a yacht with a private chef who’d served caviar, foie gras, pheasant under glass, and baked Alaska. He’d pulled out all the stops and she’d fallen for the grand seduction.
It’ll be different this time. Nate’s different. You’re different.
She would take a small-town play and dinner at a place called The Funny Farm over an elaborate yacht cruise any day of the week. Especially with Nate as her date.
He winked, and Shannon thought, I am in so much trouble.
Dinner at The Funny Farm turned out to be . . . well . . . entertaining and quite a contrast to the elegant restaurants where Shannon normally dined. The place was cute and campy and over-the-top with a barnyard-themed dining area. The waitstaff wore aprons fashioned after straightjackets as a takeoff on the double meaning of funny farm. A pun. What fun.
Nate and Shannon teased and flirted over chicken fried steak with cream gravy, homemade yeast rolls, buttery mashed potatoes, string beans, sweet tea and banana pudding. He told her about his job monitoring numerous gas rigs in the county. Before that, he’d been a Navy SEAL. But when she’d asked him about that, Nate had shaken his head. “Ancient history. I’ve put the military behind me.”
“You don’t like talking about it.”
“Not tonight. When we know each other better, we can talk about the dark stuff. Tonight, I just want to have a good time with you.” He reached across the table to stroke her knuckles with his thumb sending delicious waves of heat rippling up her arm.
Afterward they went to see Miracle on 34th Street at the Twilight Playhouse. The lead actress, who reprised the Maureen O’Hara role, was a diminutive red-haired actress who’d recently made a big splash in Hollywood, but who had returned to Twilight to marry her high school sweetheart, a local veterinarian by the name of Sam Cheek. Nate whispered this scoop behind his playbill as the lights dimmed.
During the play, Nate reached over to take Shannon’s hand and she did not pull away. She might be playing with fire, but it felt so good to hold hands in the dark with a sweet Christmas message playing out onstage. It was a fantasy. A cocoon she’d soon be leaving behind, but Shannon was determined to enjoy it for as long as it lasted. Soon enough reality would intrude. During intermission, they got Coca-Colas and struck up conversations with other theatergoers about Emma Cheek’s fabulous performance.
Shannon drifted back to her seat in a sweet haze of happiness, Nate’s arm linked through hers. The ending of the play cemented the feel-good endorphins pumping through her blood. As they left the theater, Nate turned to her. “It’s not that late. Only ten o’clock. Would you like to go for a walk in Sweetheart Park?”
“In the dark? Is it safe?”
“For one thing,” he said, “it’s Twilight. For another thing, they’ve got the place lit up brighter than Arizona in August. C’mon. I’ll show you.”
He guided her down the street as they joined other couples strolling home from the play on the same circuitous route. A line of people snaked outside the door of a coffee shop. On the courthouse lawn, Santa’s Workshop was just closing up.
“I’m surprised it’s so busy this late on a Sunday night,” she said. “I thought small towns rolled up the carpet at nightfall.”
“Not Twilight. Not in December. Don’t forget, this is a tourist town. And I’ve discovered Twilightites love their holiday celebrations.”
“It’s nice though, isn’t it? Even if it is a bit hokey.”
“It is nice,” he said.
The pressure of his hand against her spine was both reassuring and disconcerting. Mainly because she kept imagining his hand slipping lower.
Nate was right. The park was incandescent with lights. In the trees, on the quaint wooden footbridges, wrapped around wire frame sculptures of reindeers and elves and snowmen and Santa Claus.
“I feel like I’m on a burlesque stage,” Shannon said as they sauntered past oversized Christmas packages bedecked with blinking lights every color of the rainbow. She stopped and twirled, giddy with the moment. Which wasn’t like her. Not at all. But Nate made her feel things she’d never felt before.
He gave her a puckish grin. “If you start stripping, can I watch?” His smile went from mischievous to downright wicked.
Her pulse quickened, and her knees weakened. She thought, This is a beautiful man.
“Or,” he said, lowering his voice. “I could strip and you could watch. I believe in equality of the sexes.”
“Maybe we could work out a tandem striptease.”
He linked his arm through hers. “I like the way you think.”
The warmth of his skin stirred her, and she found herself leaning into him. Their shoulders rubbed as they walked. A lovely romantic friction. She closed her eyes a moment, savoring the contact. It was silly to be so eager for his touch. Nate paused before a stone fountain depicting two embracing lovers in old western clothing. A plaque declared that it had a spot in the national registry of historic places. Beside it stood a sign proclaiming that if you threw a penny into Sweetheart Fountain, you would be reunited with your high school sweetheart and live happily-ever-after. The message was both silly and hopelessly romantic.
“Do you want to throw a penny into the fountain?” Nate asked.
“No.”
“You don’t have fond memories of your high school sweetheart?”
“I didn’t have a high school sweetheart.”
He pulled back, looked surprised. “Seriously? I find that very hard to believe.”
“It’s true.”
“What? Were you home-schooled?”
Almost. Private school. “No. I was just quiet and shy and into my studies. Not the type of girl who turned guys’ heads.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
“I’m not a great beauty.”
“Yes, you are.” He cradled his palm against her cheek, looked deeply into her eyes. “Not in a flashy, obvious way, but you have a serene beauty. Calm, understated, comforting.”
She swatted at him playfully. “You make me sound like house slippers.”
“I’m mucking this up.” Nate stepped back, stabbed fingers through his hair. “What I meant to say is that your beauty is natural. Real. You don’t need makeup and short skirts to make you pretty, although . . .” His gaze flicked to her legs covered by her knee-length brown-and-cream plaid skirt. “I certainly wouldn’t object if you strutted around in miniskirts. You’ve got the most awesome pair of legs I’ve ever seen.”
The hot look of lust on his face excited and scared her. Scared her because she was feeling the same thing for him, and it was too much, too soon. She’d fallen too fast for Peter. She wasn’t taking that rollercoaster ride again.
But Peter was conning you. Nate is sincere.
Could she really say that? She didn’t know the man. Not really. Just because her heart skipped a beat whenever he walked into the room didn’t mean anything. Her heart had led her astray before.
His callused palm reached for her hand again, and her resolve melted. The handholding thing got to her every time. A Navy SEAL. This man had been a Navy SEAL. He knew how to protect a woman. And yet, there was a dark side, too. Secrets kept. Covert deeds done in the course of defending his country from foreign enemies. Maybe that’s why he’d told her he didn’t like secrets. After a lifetime in the shadows, he wanted to live in the light. Nothing to hide. No ulterior motives to second-guess.
She turned to face him. She was about to comment on the extraordinary light display, when one look into his eyes froze her lips.
In unspoken consensus, they moved toward each other. He dropped her hand in order to raise both of his hands to sandwich her face
between them.
“People are watching,” she whispered.
“No one cares. This is Twilight. Land of love and romance.” He kissed her gently, a simple brushing of their lips.
Shannon sighed softly. “I’m in so much trouble here.”
“You are,” he said huskily, “but so am I. Are you going to run off if I kiss you again?”
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly.
“I’m not that other guy. I’m not going to hurt you or take advantage of you.”
“I know,” she mumbled.
“But?”
“Nate, I’m afraid about where this is headed.”
“Me, too, but I’m brave enough to find out.”
“I’m not ready. I’m messed up. I’m conflicted. I’m—”
“Talking instead of listening to your heart.” He tugged her snug against his chest and kissed her again, firmer, hotter, brooking no argument.
Helplessly, Shannon’s eyes drifted closed. She fully surrendered to his kiss and the revved-up emotions pouring through her thick as honey. The man certainly knew how to use his lips. He tasted like a PayDay candy bar, both salty and sweet. She wanted to gobble him right up.
She planed her hands over his shoulders, his denim jacket heavy and rough underneath her palms. She breathed him in, the piney smell of the December evening mixing with his masculine cologne. Her thoughts were like a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle tossed into the air. Fractured. Separate. Making love to Nate would be like fitting all those disjointed pieces together to form a pretty picture of a longed-for landscape.
His mouth took possession of hers hungrily, but his grip loosened, letting her know she could back out at any moment if that was what she wanted. His kiss said the pieces of the puzzle could so easily be joined, if she just had the time and patience to put them together. Happiness was within her grasp.
But she could not take that step. Not yet. No matter how badly her body wanted to be joined with his. But her blood steamed and her ears hummed. Her fingers curled through his thicket of hair as she pulled his head down lower. Her body was pressed so tightly against his she could felt his erection straining against the zipper of his Levi’s.
A low growl seeped from his lips, and he pulled back, his eyes branding hers. “We should stop.”
“Yes.”
Neither one of them moved.
Shannon tilted her head, sank her top teeth into her bottom lip, held tight to his gaze. His mouth came down again, his tongue seeking and finding that erogenous spot he’d triggered the last time they’d kissed. His hand slipped beneath her open coat, gliding over her breast. Even through the barrier of clothing, Shannon’s nipples responded, hardening into achy peaks.
“We have to . . .” She swallowed hard and closed her eyes again at the tidal wave of pleasure crashing over her.
“Uh?” His mouth had moved up, nibbling at her earlobe.
Rockets of sensation shot through her lower abdomen. Her knees were so weak that if he hadn’t had one arm tightly wrapped around her waist she would have crumpled to the ground.
She could hear the water splashing in the fountain and the quiet conversations of people around them. She could smell the night breeze ripe with Christmas scents. She tasted so many things—hope, longing, lust. She wanted to lick him all over. Taste him until every cell in her body tingled with anticipation. If they had been somewhere secluded and private, she would have done just that.
“What are you doing to me?” she gasped.
“Same thing you are doing to me. Torturing you.”
“I’m breaking out the rules of the Geneva Convention. This has to stop.”
“I know,” he murmured, his breath vibrating against her skin as he spoke.
“I’m not . . . I don’t . . .” She wasn’t sure what else she’d intended to say, because all thoughts fluttered from her head when he rimmed the outside of her ear with his devastating tongue. She shivered. Clung to him.
“Imagine me doing that somewhere much lower on your sexy body,” he whispered in her ear.
“You’re evil. Pure evil.”
“Uh-huh.” He didn’t even bother to deny it.
“I’ve got to know more about you, Nate Deavers. If we’re really going to do this.”
“Do what?” he asked, his tone sleepy and suggestive, his lowered lids half shuttering his dark eyes.
“This. Me. You. Dating.”
“I’m on board.” He stepped back, letting her go. “What do you want to know?” He spread his arms. “I’m an open book.”
Why was she asking? She shouldn’t even be thinking about sleeping with him. This was all temporary. There was nothing long-term for her here.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “What are some of your favorite things?”
He put an arm around her shoulder, drew her to him, strolled her over a wooden footbridge aglow with twinkling candy canes. “Christmas morning and Belgium waffles with maple syrup and crispy fried bacon. Fishing off the dock during a summer sunset. Jazz music. Honesty. Openness. Intelligence. Chocolate chip cookies. Old dogs. Flannel shirts. Indian motorcycles. Pumpkin pie. Jack Daniels in moderation. Blue jeans. The smell of fresh-cut grass. Corn on the cob with real butter. Kids. Second chances. Short good-byes and long hellos. Morning sex. But most of all, tawny-eyed women with stupendous legs who taste like candy, smell like heaven, and are pretty darn handy when it comes to putting up Christmas decorations.”
“You’re just saying that last part because you’re here with me.” She laughed. No, not laughed. She giggled. Actually giggled, because Nate made her feel like she was sixteen again and having that rush of first crush that she’d never experienced.
He held up two fingers. “SEAL’s honor, I’m telling the truth. Can we go back to the kissing now?”
She took another step back. This man appreciated honesty and openness. Something she couldn’t provide. At least not yet. “You’re sort of obsessed with kissing. You should add that to your list.”
“Point taken, but you are standing underneath a mass of mistletoe. It would be remiss of me not to at least try to kiss you, considering the circumstances.” He leaned in.
Shannon held up a hand. “Slow down. Talk first. Kissing later.”
He sighed. “You’re serious about this.”
“I am. What bothers you?”
“About what?”
“Life, stuff.”
“Cheaters. Secrets. Lies. Hidden agendas.”
That pretty well summed her up, except for the cheating part.
“Getting gum on your shoe on a hot summer day. People who think that yellow on traffic lights means go faster. Meanness. Zealots. Fancy gourmet burgers with weird ingredients. Who wants cranberries, quinoa, and feta cheese in their hamburgers?”
“What if I loved hamburgers with cranberries, quinoa, and feta cheese?”
“Then that’s one area where we’d just have to agree to disagree. Your turn,” he said. “What does Shannon Nagud like?”
Nagud. That stupid name she’d concocted on the spur of the moment. Not only did it lack imagination, it had been plain stupid to use her last name spelled backward.
She leaned over the footbridge, looked down at the water below. The wind ruffled her hair, blowing it back over her shoulder, chilling her cheeks. That was exactly what she needed. A slap of cold air to wake her up.
This little daydream relationship was nothing more than a fantasy. Eventually, she’d be going back to the life she’d left behind. She could go now. There was nothing to hold her here. She didn’t even have to confront Raylene if she didn’t want to. She could just disappear. Except if she left now she would never get closure.
“Well?” Nate prodded.
“I like closure,” she said. “And knowing where I stand. I favor calic
o kittens. Books. Babies. Deep-dish pizza. Real Christmas trees. The sound of the ocean. PayDay candy bars. The color purple. Summer rain showers. Gladiolas. Peanut-butter-and-strawberry-jelly sandwiches with the crusts cut off. Football. Central Park in the fall. And Betty Boop nightgowns.”
“Hmm,” he said. “I forgot about the Betty Boop nightgowns. Those are on my like list too. Especially when you’re wearing one.”
Nate leaned in again, and this time Shannon didn’t back away.
“So, did I past the test?” he asked.
“I approve of your favorite things,” she murmured.
His hands were in her hair, his palms cradling the back of her head. His cocoa-bean eyes percolated hot and dark. She pursed her lips. Damn her. She shouldn’t, but she couldn’t seem to stop.
Nate’s mouth was on hers again, kissing with a fiery urgency that stole all her reasoning. She kissed him in return, arching her back against him, completely unaware of the people around them.
He touched her, and she burned for him, lust hazing her brain. She couldn’t think. All she could do was want and want and want.
“Sweetheart,” he whispered, finally breaking their embrace. “I want you more than I want to breathe. But I don’t want to rush you. You’re right. We need to slow down. Take our time. Savor what’s happening between us. So before things get out of hand, I think it’s time I took you home.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
For the rest of the week, Nate courted Shannon in slow, easy measures.
He was determined to not scare her off. He knew she was skittish, and he didn’t blame her, considering what had happened with her ex. On the whole, he was pretty distrustful, too, but the way Shannon made him feel overrode his doubts. His gut told him that she was special, and he always followed his gut. It had never led him astray.
The day after their date, Nate came into the Horny Toad for Monday Night Football. He brought Shannon a PayDay, and her face lit up as if he’d given her a new car. On Tuesday, he arrived with a deep-dish pizza, and they ate in the back room of the bar, stealing kisses between each bite, their lips smeared with tomato sauce and melted provolone.
