In the Midnight Hour

by Kimberly Raye

  She smiled.

  He glared.

  “Have you ever heard the saying, chérie, Do not wish too hard for something, you just may get it?”

  “I should be so lucky.”

  His glare eased and she thought he was going to smile. His lips thinned just before she could actually classify his expression as a grin. He took on a thoughtful expression as his gaze swept over her, from her head to her toes. Wicked delight danced in the blue depths of his eyes.

  “You are in such a hurry to lose your virginity, I don’t think you fully realize what it is you’re hoping for.”

  “Then enlighten me.”

  “Well,” he circled her chair, coming up behind her, his hands closing over her shoulders just hard enough to communicate his superior strength. “The breeching of a maidenhead,” he murmured in her ear, “is very painful, chérie.” His fingers tightened. “Excruciating.”

  “Really?”

  “Indeed.” He let go of her and circled her once more, as a hawk sizing up dinner. “Truly unbearable.”

  “And how do you know? Have you had your maidenhead breeched?”

  The question brought a frown to his face. Obviously, he wasn’t the least bit pleased that she didn’t cower in fear at his statement.

  “I just know,” he declared.

  “How?” she countered. “If Claire was your first virgin and you don’t remember, you don’t have any firsthand knowledge. Look, Val.” She did some glaring of her own. “If you don’t want to get physical with me, just come out and say it instead of beating around the bush, making up nonexistent steps, and then trying to scare me.”

  “All right. I do not want to get physical with you.”

  His words pricked her ego and she stiffened. “Thanks a lot.”

  He gave her an exasperated look. “You asked me, did you not?”

  “Yes, but you didn’t have to be so blunt.”

  “Meaning, I should lie?”

  “No.” She huffed, staring moodily at her notebook. “Okay, so maybe a little.”

  “Meaning you want me to lie.”

  “Not a full-blown lie. A teensy, weensy lie. For a good cause. Like, I’m wonderfully sexy, but you’re just not in the mood, or you took a vow of celibacy for religious purposes, or you find me irresistible but you’re still in love with someone from your past.”

  “Those are all full-blown lies.”

  She shook her head. Men. “Thanks for pointing that out, Val. Would you mind helping me scrape what’s left of my self-esteem off the floor?” Before he could reply, she rushed on, “Or maybe you’d like to stomp on it, do a little jig just to make sure there’s nothing left.” She nailed him with a stare. “What’s so wrong with me, huh?” He opened his mouth, but she didn’t give him the chance to answer. “Okay, so there’s too much of me. That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t do fat women.”

  He seemed at a momentary loss for words. “You’re not fat,” he finally muttered. “You are voluptuous.”

  “Same thing.” She bolted to her feet and stalked toward him. “It’s just a nice way of saying my thighs are too wide, my tummy pooches, I don’t have legs up to here, and my boobs are way, way too far out to there, and my butt is too wide. …” The words faded into a choked sob and she shook her head wildly. “Oh, great.” She wiped frantically at her cheeks and turned away.

  Crying. Of all the stupid, silly, … woman things to do. Her mother had cried during sappy movies and tender love songs, when Ronnie’s goldfish had died, when her tulips had dried up. Her father had always shaken his head in that tolerant, condescending way that said … Women.

  “So my thighs are wide,” she blurted, trying to reason out the situation. Her head over her heart. “There are advantages to having wide thighs, and a big butt, and a tummy pooch. I don’t have to worry about Playboy beating down my door for a centerfold, nor do I have to hold the guys off, which is a good thing because I don’t have time for men in my life.” She sniffled and choked back a sob.

  “Don’t cry, chérie.”

  “I am not crying.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “I can see you—” His words drowned under a loud bam bam as someone rapped on her door. “You misunderstood me,” he added as she stomped toward the door.

  “You find me repulsive. What’s to misunderstand?”

  “I do not find you repulsive.”

  “Then it must be virgins in general.” The snap of a deadbolt punctuated her sentence as she hauled open the door.

  “Who were you talking to—” Danny started, coming up short when he caught sight of a traitorous tear that squeezed past her lashes. “Whoa, are you—”

  “No.” She slapped the moisture away.

  “—crying?” he finished. “You are. You’re crying.”

  “I am not.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head and went to rummage in the fridge. When spiraling down the pit of self-loathing, it was best not to go it alone. She grabbed a container of chocolate pudding, then a carton of chocolate ice cream, whipped cream, two cupcakes, and a bottle of chocolate fudge syrup. Fuel for the long journey.

  Val didn’t find her attractive.

  The truth beat at her brain and, after setting everything down on the counter, her trembling fingers dove back inside the fridge for a third cupcake. And some leftover chocolate-covered peanuts she’d picked up at the campus deli.

  So what if he didn’t like her? She didn’t need him. She could find a nice, modern guy who liked full-figured women and virgins.

  “Veronica.” Danny’s voice sounded right behind her as she ripped the lid off a container of pudding.

  “What?” She shoveled in a mouthful of pudding, turned, and came nose to nose with him.

  Her throat worked at the pudding, pulling it down in a hard swallow as his fierce blue gaze drilled into her. Blue?

  Before she could give the sight another thought, he hauled her close, the container of pudding splattered at her feet, and he kissed her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The sensation started at the tips of her toes. A tingling heat that sizzled through her like a live current running through brand new wire. She glowed. Vibrated. Hummed.

  Danny.

  She managed to crack one eye open and get an up close and personal view of the Big D. Then his tongue thrust deep, her knees trembled, and her mind shut down from temporary overload.

  Common sense jumped ship and her senses took control of the wheel. She took a deep breath and inhaled the scent of him—a musky mingling of leather and male and the crispness of a cool river on a hot summer’s day. Val. One hundred percent Va—Whoa, back up.

  Danny, she reminded herself. Danny.

  The name intruded into her thoughts and jerked her back to reality despite a really intoxicating kiss that tasted of whiskey and raw heat and … experience.

  Lips coaxed and stroked, his tongue tasted and explored. Persuasively. Knowingly.

  Danny?

  She opened her eyes as her hands touched his chest and gave him a slight push.

  His eyes opened and blazed a bright, brilliant blue.

  Blue.

  She closed her eyes. She was seeing things. That was it. Wishful thinking. She wanted Val and so she imagined his eyes staring at her, his lips kissing her.…

  Her eyes snapped open in time to see the blue darken to a rich brown. But that wasn’t what sent her stumbling backward, shaking with shock and fear and … anger.

  She watched as Val stepped from Danny’s body, his spirit unfolding from the smaller man like a shadow stepping free.

  Danny blinked and shook his head. “Ronnie? What’s wrong? Did you hear the noise again?”

  “W-what?” she stammered, shifting her gaze from Val to her very puzzled looking friend.

  “The noise. You look as if you’ve just seen a ghost.”

  As if she were still seeing a ghost. A rotten, two-timing, sne
aky, handsome ghost.

  “And what’s with all this pudding?” He bent to retrieve the forgotten container and scoop the contents back inside.

  “You have to go to the bathroom,” Val whispered as Danny straightened.

  The man blinked. “Did you hear that?”

  “What?”

  “A voice.” Danny dropped the pudding container into the sink. “Telling me I need to go to the bathroom.”

  “Must be your bladder.”

  “But I don’t have to go.”

  “Yes, you do,” Val whispered again.

  Danny turned and stared straight at Val, but he didn’t seem to see him. He turned the other way before swinging back around to Ronnie. “I guess maybe I do.”

  “Take your time,” she called after him.

  The door closed and she glared at Val. “It was you. You’re the one who kissed me.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to get physical,” Val told her. “I cannot. You must understand.”

  “You kissed me,” she went on, the sight of him stepping from Danny still vivid in her mind. Val had been the one kissing her, making her toes curl. Val.

  “You are a virgin and I cannot deflower a virgin. It’s against the rules.”

  “What rules?”

  He started to answer, but the shrill ring of the telephone drowned him out. Ronnie made no move to pick it up.

  “Hello. This is Veronica …” her recorded voice finally echoed over the answering machine.

  “Still the same old boring message,” Jenny said after the beep. “I know it’s late, but Marcy has a cold and she’s keeping me up and I know you keep late hours. So what do you think of Kyle for a boy or Kaylie for a girl? Matt has a second cousin named Kyle but I think we can get away with it. Call me and let me know.” The machine clicked.

  “Someone is having a baby?”

  “Don’t change the subject,” she told Val. “It was you. Tonight, and that first night, when I kissed Danny. You.”

  “We must keep our distance,” he said, his expression stern.

  “Then why did you kiss me?”

  “My time here is temporary,” he went on. “I have to think about Emma, about the question haunting me. I cannot be distracted—”

  “Why?”

  His gaze caught and held hers and she thought she saw longing. Then the emotion dove into the sparkling blue depths of his eyes and he shrugged. “I did not want to see your valuable techniques wasted on inexperience.”

  “You were jealous.”

  He stiffened. “I have never been jealous.”

  “You want me.” She smiled and he frowned. “You do. You really do.”

  “You are a woman. Of course I want you. I haven’t been within a few feet of a woman in a long, long time, with the exception of that lawyer’s assistant.”

  “What lawyer’s assistant?”

  “She was cataloguing estate items when I was stuck in the warehouse. She had a certain fondness for my bed.”

  Her gaze narrowed. “Did you touch her?”

  “I intended to, but her fiancé disturbed us. Thankfully.”

  “Let me guess, you have a No Engaged Women policy as well as a No Virgin one.”

  “Something like that.”

  “So what did she look like?”

  “Très belle,” he murmured. “I think.” He shook his head. “That’s irrelevant to the matter at hand.”

  “Which is,” she grinned and said accusingly, “desperate or not, you kissed me. Not a butterfly kiss either. You demonstrated all ten kisses and then you did that lip-licking thing.”

  “Merely a kiss—even all ten do not count as consummation, or haven’t you learned anything these past few weeks?”

  They stared one another down, the tension building, the air charged with a sexual current that made the hair on the back of Ronnie’s neck stand on end and her thighs tingle. He looked so calm and cool and completely unaffected that she suddenly wanted to strangle him.

  She’d settle for shaking his composure.

  “Actually,” she smiled, her gaze hooking on the carton of ice cream she had left on the counter as an idea took root. “I’ve learned quite a bit, and I’ve developed quite an imagination. You’re one heck of a teacher, Val.” She grabbed the container and a spoon, and panic flashed in his eyes. “What’s the matter? You look nervous.” She scooped a spoonful of ice cream. “Surely big, macho, experienced you isn’t afraid of a little ice cream.” She eyed the chocolate delight before her tongue darted out to take a sensuous lick. She groaned as the sweetness exploded on her tongue. “Or maybe you’re just afraid I won’t give you any.” She loaded another spoonful and eyed him. “Want a taste?”

  “You know I do not eat mortal food.” His voice came out as little more than a hoarse whisper.

  “I wasn’t talking about the ice cream.” She winked and touched her tongue provocatively to the decadent dessert before swallowing the bite.

  With a long, deep, pleasurable groan, she gave up the spoon for a larger one and scooped ice cream into a bowl, then reached for the fudge syrup. A huge drop dribbled down the side, slid over her fingers. She caught the thick sauce with her tongue. “Mmm,” she murmured, licking the chocolate free of her skin and watching him swallow. Hard. “I think I’ve found my next fantasy.”

  “No more fantasies,” he groaned.

  “Ah, but I think this will be my best one yet.” One determined to send him over the edge, because she was tired of waiting on Valentine Tremaine. She was frustrated and she wanted relief.

  She scooped a dollop of sauce with the tip of her finger and slid it into her mouth. “Mmm,” she murmured, suckling as she watched him. And he watched her. And the air around them sparked. “Ahhh,” she pulled her glistening finger free. “I just love my sundaes with warm, thick fudge sauce.” She scooped more sauce and suckled. Scooped and suckled. Scooped and—

  “We’ll move on to touching. Just—” he grabbed her hand and pulled it free of her mouth, his skin burning into hers “—don’t do that. Please don’t do that.”

  She arched an eyebrow at him. “Pretty please?”

  He let her go abruptly. “Damn woman, but you’re maddening.”

  “And you’re stubborn.”

  “Infuriating.”

  “Bull-headed.”

  “Aggravating.”

  “A pain in the—” she started, but his voice cut her off.

  “Truce,” he growled. “Let us call a truce and get on with tonight’s lesson.”

  “Touching,” she declared triumphantly.

  “Hand-holding,” he corrected.

  Hand-holding? That wasn’t what she had in mind at all. “I’d rather have a sundae.” She reached for the can of whipped cream. A press of the nozzle, and foamy sweetness squirted on top of the ice cream. “You know,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips, “I’ve always wanted to try this stuff on more than just ice cream—”

  “Forget hand-holding.” He snatched the can from her before she could demonstrate the “more.” “Real touching.”

  She put her hands on her hips and eyed him. “How real?”

  “We’ll pick up where we left off after the kissing. Ear nibbling, then the neck lick, then …” He swallowed. “We’ll move down from there.”

  “You mean move on.”

  His eyes gleamed with a wicked light. “I mean down.”

  “Oh.” Heat flooded her cheeks despite the fact that this was what she’d been asking for. Hoping for.

  Her gaze caught with Val’s and she saw the heat simmering in his gaze, the desire, the want, the … hesitation.

  She wanted to ask him why, but something in his eyes, a deep sadness, a fear, kept her from opening her mouth. The less she knew, the less she would care, and she couldn’t care. Not real caring.

  Lust. Just lust.

  “You don’t have to break your No Virgin rule, Val.” What was she saying? That as much as she wanted him, she didn’t want him to break a vo
w that obviously meant a great deal to him. “We’re talking touching, not deflowering. I might be inexperienced, but I know enough to know there’s a world of difference between the two.”

  “Just touching?”

  “Touching,” she reassured him. Before she could dwell on her sudden change of heart, Danny’s loud singing voice carried from the bathroom. Ronnie’s gaze shifted to the closed door. “No more using Danny. You’re the tutor, so you do the nibbling and licking.”

  He nodded.

  Worry furrowed her brow as Danny launched into a rather loud version of the Rolling Stones’ “Start Me Up.” “He’s all right, isn’t he? I mean, he lives for classical music.”

  “He still likes classical, he’s just discovering his wild side.”

  “Danny doesn’t have a wild side.”

  “He does now. One of the side effects of possession.”

  “Side effects? His head isn’t going to start spinning around, is it?”

  “More like twitching.” An all-male grin curved Val’s handsome face as he slid back into his sexy, charming self. “And growing and throbbing and—”

  “I get the picture.” Ronnie’s cheeks flamed. “So this wild side is courtesy of your possession?”

  He nodded, his smile fading into tired acceptance. “During the possession, I must suppress his spirit with my own. The entire process is very tiring for me, more so because when I exit his body, in my weakened state, it’s impossible not to leave some of my energy behind.”

  “Like paying rent.”

  “In a way.” He collapsed into a nearby chair. “I get the pleasure of a physical form, and he gets a boost of energy when I leave.”

  “Will he remember tonight? The kiss?”

  “The kiss isn’t his memory, love. It’s mine.” One Val wasn’t likely to forget for a long, long time. Unfortunately.

  Veronica smiled at him. “Because you want me.”

  “Because I am a dedicated teacher.” He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, and then a pillow caught him in the chest.

  His eyes snapped open and he frowned at her. “What was that for?”

  Fire danced in her eyes. “For tricking me and for taking advantage of poor Danny.”