Again the Magic

by Lee Damon

  "Maybe," Ez said broodingly, noting with a jaundiced eye how many men Midge was acknowledging. "Hell, does she know every man in here?"

  "I wouldn't think so," O'Mara teased, "but do try to keep in mind the fact that she's lived around here all her life. She's bound to know a lot of people."

  "And most of them men," growled Ez, looking around the lounge. His attention was arrested suddenly, and he quickly scanned the room again and then cast a sly grin at O'Mara. "On the other hand, I'd say most of that chop-licking interest is going a bit over Midge's head."

  "Won't do them a damn bit of good," O'Mara stated positively, a combative gleam in his darkening eyes. "Everything that one has is all mine and always has been." He met Ez's level look and said firmly, "All right. You don't have to say it. I made a stupid move once and lost sight of it. Never again."

  "Don't rush her," warned Ez. "It's going to take some time. And you've got to realize that she's not exactly the same girl you used to know. Besides the problem we've already talked about, she's become very independent, with a strong mind of her own."

  "I don't object to that," O'Mara said magnanimously, "just as long as she houses it under my roof and rests it in my bed." He and Ez exchanged a long look of total masculine understanding. "Don't worry, Ez," he said reassuringly, "I'll be careful with her. I'm not about to blow it now."

  "Oh, I'm not worried," Ez replied blithely, "If I had even a tiny doubt, do you think you'd get within a mile of her, old friend or not? Oh, no. I failed her once, but you can bet your life I never will again."

  "No. Neither of us ever will again." O'Mara's expression was momentarily bleak, before he visibly brought his mind back to the present and signaled to the waitress for another round.

  Dropping her evening bag onto the counter, Kitt sat down on a low-backed chair and looked in the mirror at Midge, who was standing uneasily behind her. "Okay, peanut, what's the matter? So far, you've hardly said two words. I know Ez's color sense is excruciating, but it's not—"

  "It isn't that," muttered Midge with a wan smile. "Do you want me to re-pin your hair?"

  "No, it's fine, and don't change the subject," Kitt said gently as she glanced at her reflection. For a change, she was wearing her heavy hair pulled loosely back into a low knot on her neck, her face framed by the deep waves of chestnut silk. "Now, quickly, before someone comes in, tell me what's wrong."

  "Me. I'm wrong. Oh, Kitt, didn't you see how all those women were looking at him?" She bit her lip and looked forlornly at herself over Kitt's shoulder. "Look at me. I hardly come up to his chest, and I look like a fluffy-headed doll. It's a joke. And they were all dressed to the nines and tall and sophisticated... and... older. I mean, not old, but nearer his age."

  "Midge—"

  "Oh, I know we have fun and kid around a lot, but he is nine years older and I think he thinks I'm a... a playmate or—"

  "Hold it. Just calm down a minute." Kitt swung around and looked up at the distressed girl. "You're getting slightly incoherent, and it's all over nothing. You're right. Ez is nine years older than you, and so am I for that matter, so listen to me for a few minutes."

  She glanced around at the sound of the door opening and then lowered her voice so that the three women at the other side of the room couldn't hear her. "Believe me, Midge, if Ez wanted to be with one of those tall, sophisticated, probably empty-headed fashion plates, then that's just where he'd be. Nobody, but nobody, ever makes Ez do something he doesn't want to do. If he asked you to come with him tonight, it was because he wanted to be with you. Furthermore, if he really thought you were nothing more than a fluffy-headed doll, he wouldn't waste more than ten minutes on you. Ez doesn't go for dumb bunnies."

  "But—"

  "No buts." Kitt put a hand over one of Midge's tightly clenched fists and squeezed. "I know Ez carries you around like a doll," she said, grinning, "but have you considered that he uses it as an excuse to touch you? Seems to me that he's managed to find one reason or another for keeping at least one arm around you a good ninety percent of the time you're together. I didn't get the impression that you minded all that much," she teased, "since you don't exactly scream with fright when he's tossing you around. In fact...."

  "In fact, I rather like it. So, okay," said Midge, managing to look both contrite and sheepish, "this is all a tempest in a thimble. I guess I just... well, it was kind of weird walking into that lounge with the three of you. You're all so tall and... for a few minutes, I felt... almost like I wasn't there. I... it's hard to explain... you've never been five feet nothing and...." She trailed off into embarrassed silence and nibbled on a thumbnail.

  Standing up and towering over Midge even more than usual since her high-heeled sandals brought her close to the six-foot mark, Kitt laughed down at the petite girl and turned her toward the door with a friendly hand on her shoulder.

  "Silly cluck. We all know you're there, and Ez knows it most of all. Be a good pixie and stop worrying about minor details. Take heart from the fact that if all Ez wanted was female company, he wouldn't have to come way up here every weekend to find it. He's got them falling at his feet all over campus. No, believe me, it's the company of one particular female that's bringing him up here."

  "Really? Do you really think so?" asked Midge, tipping her head back to look up at Kitt as they crossed the foyer.

  "Oh, yes, indeed. Just hang in there and let things take their natural course and—" She broke off as her gaze went over Midge's head and zeroed in on their table. "Now, what in the name of all the Knights Templar do those two think they're up to? Looks like a scene from The Sultan's Selection. "

  "What are you—" Midge had stopped when Kitt halted in the entrance to the lounge and, standing on tiptoe, had craned to see what had caught the older woman's attention. Now, her eyes widening in consternation, she could only manage a feeble "Oh" at the sight of Ez and O'Mara surrounded by at least half a dozen obviously fascinated females.

  Kitt had caught O'Mara's eye and lifted a sardonically inquiring eyebrow, receiving a wink and a smug grin in return.

  "Tomcat!" she growled, snapping Midge's head around and up and widening her gaze in alarm at the steely glint in Kitt's exotic eyes.

  "Kitt!" she hissed. "Don't get carried away in here. What are you going to do?"

  "Pour a bucket of sauce over a couple of randy ganders."

  "Kitt!" gasped Midge, choking back laughter.

  "Will you stop saying 'Kitt' and get helpful?" There was a gleam in the smoky eyes that was every bit as wicked as any O'Mara had ever had. She started moving slowly into the room, muttering under her breath to Midge, "Half the men in here are watching us. Do you know any of them? Smile and introduce me and then start bubbling. Two minutes should do it."

  "What are you talking about? Ouch! All right, don't pinch." Glancing around, Midge let her eyes rest on a good-looking, sandy-haired young man and smiled mischievously at him. "Hi, Ted. How are you? Haven't seen you around for weeks. Have you met Kitt Tate yet? She's just bought the bookshop, and I'm working for her. Kitt, this is Ted Robertson. His sister and I were in school together. Oh, Stevie. When did you get back from California? Have you met Kitt Tate?"

  In less than a minute, they were surrounded by eager men ranging in age from twenty to early thirties, laughing and joking with Midge with the ease of long acquaintance, and making their interest in her stunning friend more than obvious. With the unobtrusiveness of experience, Kitt had backed against a table and casually swung one of the swivel chairs around in front of her. Now, as she bantered with the laughing group, she idly spun the chair back and forth, effectively keeping everyone an arm's length away.

  Although a frustrated Midge couldn't see past the surrounding men, Kitt had no trouble flicking quick glances over their shoulders at the table where O'Mara and Ez were sitting. After a few moments, she leaned toward Midge and whispered, "Brace yourself. Ez has the strangest look on his face, O'Mara is practically blowing smoke rings out his ears, and they're both
headed this way."

  She straightened and turned a laughing face to a big, ruggedly handsome man who was offering her a drink and watched, with no little satisfaction, as a delighted sparkle lit his eyes. Suddenly, unexpectedly, elation bubbled through her as she realized just how long it had been since she'd fearlessly exchanged quips and laughing, teasing looks with a group of men.

  Still smiling happily, she turned and met O'Mara's smoldering gaze as he stepped beside her and draped a casual arm across her shoulders. She glanced past him to see Ez drop his huge hands onto Midge's shoulders, almost buckling her at the knees, and she split a wickedly sparkling look between the two big men as she drawled, "Well, well, if it isn't the busy ganders."

  Mouths half-open with the beginning of no-doubt pithy comments, Ez and O'Mara exchanged startled looks which were rapidly supplanted by dawning comprehension and, finally, roars of laughter. The bewildered group of admirers looked inquiringly at Kitt and Midge who, with satisfied grins, were giving each other thumbs-up signs.

  O'Mara, with practiced ease, flashed a knowing smile around the group and said, "Sorry, fellows, but these two seem to have lost their way to our table. Have you all met Ez Tate, Kitt's twin?" Quickly but politely, he introduced Ez who, with equal aplomb, exchanged handshakes while easing his and Midge's way through the group and toward their table, followed by O'Mara pulling a laughing Kitt along with him.

  "Stupid goose," growled O'Mara, pushing Kitt down on the banquette. "Wait till I get you home." The muscles spasmed along his jaw as he held back a smile. "Feeling your oats, are you?"

  Taking him, and herself, completely by surprise, Kitt impulsively leaned toward him and kissed his cheek. A slow smile spread from his mouth to his eyes as he took in her stupefied expression. "Shock yourself?" he asked huskily.

  "Did I really do that?" she whispered.

  "Mmmmm. We're certainly progressing in leaps and bounds today. I can't help but wonder how you're going to say goodnight."

  "I'll think of something," she said dreamily, leaning back and letting her eyes drift to Ez and Midge. She blinked and sat forward, her mouth open to protest at the sight of Ez holding a fuming Midge firmly seated on one hard thigh. "Ez!"

  "Don't you start, Kitt. I know damn well that was all your idea, but this one isn't getting out of my hands again. I'm not spending the evening retrieving her from that wolfpack." He glared at Midge, who glared right back.

  Kitt watched her twin incredulously and said, dazedly, to anyone who cared to listen, "I don't believe this. He's jealous! My sweet-tempered, love-'em-and-leave-'em brother is jealous of a little bitty pixie he could stuff into his pocket. I may just faint from the shock."

  "Do you get the impression of a bear guarding his personal honey tree?" O'Mara asked, chuckling in her ear.

  "Yeah," agreed Kitt. "But he'd better watch it. The queen bee looks like she's about to bite his nose."

  "Well, she can't now. Fred's just signaled that our table's ready. Let's see if we can get Godzilla to let her go long enough to eat."

  Chapter 11

  "Hmmm. I do like home comforts. Now, tell me, you devious witch, who were you trying to send up, Ez or me?" O'Mara kept his eyes closed, but a knowing smile hovered on his lips. He was stretched out the full length of the long sofa, his bare feet propped on one arm and his head resting in Kitt's lap while she leaned back against the other arm. His jacket and tie were draped over a chair, and the discarded shoes and socks were placed neatly underneath.

  "Both," Kitt said succinctly. Shifting slightly so she could rest her head against the sofa back, she let her eyes play over the long, rangy body which somehow still exuded an aura of vitality even when it was totally relaxed. With the detached sense of someone watching a silent movie, she saw her hand slide across his shoulder and rest on his chest for a few moments, rising and falling with his slow, even breaths, before the fingers moved and unbuttoned the next three buttons of his shirt. Then the dark, soft curls were winding around the fingers as they idly stroked through the thick mat. A quick, arrested motion brought her eyes down to the long, tanned hands clasped loosely across his stomach, but they were quiet now, barely moving with the rhythm of his breathing.

  It was peaceful in the dimly lit room, with just the hint of sound from the river penetrating the double-glazing of the window wall. With a continuing detachment, Kitt let her eyes wander the length of his legs as he recrossed his ankles and, with a completely objective appreciation of a well-developed physique, watched the flexing of his sinewy thigh muscles. The fine wool fabric of his slacks was pulled taut by the angled position of his legs, and her curious eyes drifted across his hips and flat abdomen and lingered unthinkingly on the soft mound of his groin. Her mind was concentrated on the warm, solid weight of his head on her thigh and the tickling of his hair on her palm as she lightly brushed her hand back and forth across his chest.

  "Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" The husky voice jarred her into full awareness, and her eyes widened in alarm as she became conscious of several disturbing factors all at once—a slow stirring at his groin which was tautening his slacks even more, the whitening of his knuckles as his hands gripped tightly together, the gaping shirt which, unknowingly, she had almost completely unbuttoned, the deepening rise and fall of his chest under her stilled hand, the shape of his head under her other hand which had somehow become buried in his thick hair, and the possessive eyes, darkened to indigo with arousal, catching and holding her gaze.

  "I... I wasn't thinking... I just... oh, my," she ended on a moan, closing her eyes.

  "Don't shut me out, love. Look at me." The deep voice was coaxing, still with a touch of huskiness, and she opened her eyes. He brought one hand up to gently circle her wrist and guide her palm down over the vee of fur across his stomach. "I didn't mean for you to stop. Do you realize that the fact that you wanted to touch me and did it so naturally is another giant step on our path?"

  "I guess it is, isn't it?" Her wondering look was replaced with a slow smile of delight, and she deliberately smoothed her hand up over his ribs, enjoying the warm tightness of his skin stretched over bone and muscle.

  With a rather breathless laugh, he caught her wandering hand and held it with both of his. "Slow down, love, or you'll be off the path and into the rocks."

  "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 go
t 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.