by Leslie Kelly
She was barefoot, walking in dew-drenched grass across a lush lawn. Nearby, a warm house beckoned. No, not a house—a palace, with high turrets, arched windows, gables and cupolas. The top story was swathed in mist and it looked almost like a castle from a fairy tale. It promised wealth and security.
“Come back!” called a voice from within. It commanded obedience, expected it.
She hesitated for a moment, but in the end, did not turn back. She was instead drawn farther away, toward a stand of dark, shadowy woods that stood just outside the manicured castle lawn. Mysterious and magical, maybe a bit frightening; she couldn’t resist the silent allure of the dark, twisting trees.
As she stepped into the forest, she was surprised to find the air had grown warmer. The ground was soft, gentle against her bare toes. She drew deep breaths into her lungs, drawn to some unseen source of heat, feeling excited, half-wondering if she should stop, but knowing she wouldn’t.
She walked on, hearing the crunch of leaves beneath her feet, pulled irresistibly forward by some invisible force of nature that drew her ever onward. That peaceful feeling slowly began to evaporate and tension built within her, though she couldn’t say why.
The ground gained heat somehow and the forest fell quiet. So very quiet. And the air was now almost too hot to suck into her mouth. Sweat broke out on her brow.
Her steps slowed. She turned and looked over her shoulder, toward the castle, but could barely make out its outline as the woods seemed to have swallowed her whole.
She told herself she should go back, but her feet wouldn’t let her turn around. The air gained mass, growing thick, blocking her from moving any way but forward.
Suddenly, she reached a clearing and came face-to-face with a dark mountain. A large cave was cut into its side, and something within that cave was breathing loudly. Each breath filled the day, consumed all other sound, sucked away thought.
Filled with terror, she froze in place. Heat assaulted her; she couldn’t think, could barely breathe.
The loud form moved to the entrance of the cave. She saw an enormous head, then a slowly unfurling wing, green and scaly.
A dragon.
It opened its mouth and sparks flickered between its jagged teeth. She screamed and turned to run, only instead of seeing the woods, she was horrified to realize she now stood at the edge of an enormous cliff. A thousand feet below was a jagged beach, with raging waters and vicious rocks. She was caught between the fire of the dragon’s mouth and an anguished fall to her death.
Pebbles shifted beneath her feet. The ground gave way. She began to fall.
“Hold on, I’ve got you!” a voice suddenly called.
She looked up and saw a figure swooping down from the mountain above her, dressed all in black, from head to toe. His features were disguised by a mask that covered his whole face.
“The dragon!” she shrieked.
“Trust me.”
He grabbed her around the waist, swinging them both out over the cliff’s edge. The dragon nipped at their toes and she looked down and saw a watery grave far below. But the masked man held her tight against his massive chest, as if she weighed nothing. She felt safe, completely protected, yet also energized and so very free.
All at once, they weren’t swinging on a rope—they were flying. Together, they soared through the sky, over the ocean, past the forest, beyond the castle. Right into the horizon.
“You rescued me from the dragon,” she finally whispered, her arms curled around his shoulders, her face pressed into his neck.
“No. I rescued you from a dull, safe, predictable life in that boring castle,” he replied.
She didn’t understand how he could know that, or even if it was true. But right now, it didn’t matter. She was content to lose herself in the feel of his strong body as they flew and flew, certain that nothing could ever make them return to the ordinary land below.
4
HAVING ARRANGED HIS move-in around his shift-work at the station, Xander had the entire weekend to finish unpacking his apartment. He had sold most of his stuff—along with his parents’ things—in Chicago. So there wasn’t much to move aside from his clothes. He’d ordered new furniture, which had been delivered the previous day. Beyond putting personal stuff away, there wasn’t a lot to do. By Sunday afternoon, he was completely finished.
Remembering his landlady had asked him to hold on to his moving boxes, since tenants often needed them, he decided to take them outside to the free-standing garage. He’d just finished flattening them and standing them in the corner when he heard the clanging of metal from somewhere outside.
Curious, he walked around the building, looking toward the woods that backed up to the old house. He immediately spied a metal ladder propped up against an enormous, flower-covered tree. A sneaker-clad foot disappeared up that ladder, its owner swallowed up in the profusion of low-hanging limbs and branches.
“Bad move,” he muttered, tsking as he noted the unsteadiness of the ground on which the extension ladder stood. It was leaning against a gnarled, uneven tree trunk, and the person using it had climbed far too high for someone to go without having any support at the base.
Jogging over, he called, “Hey, let me spot you!”
He reached the ladder and braced it, tightly gripping both sides and planting a foot against the bottom rung. When he finally glanced up, he saw two feet, above which were two long, slim legs and a curvy set of hips.
He’d recognize this view anywhere. Clothed or unclothed. As for which he preferred? Well, a gentleman would never tell.
He’d seen Mimi the previous day, but they hadn’t said much more than hello. He’d wanted to, badly, especially after what had happened between them in her room. But he hadn’t done it.
Needing to know what her decision had been Friday night, he had sat in his living room, going over some paperwork, with his ear cocked. And he’d heard the deep, male voice mingling with her sweet, sultry tones in the vestibule between their apartments. More importantly, he had not heard the distinctive squeak of the front door to the house—meaning her friend had not left. So it hadn’t been hard to figure out she had, indeed, invited her potential lover into her home. And her bed. Which had reconfirmed his decision to steer clear of his beautiful neighbor.
Now, though, he couldn’t exactly steer clear when she was being so reckless up on that unsecured ladder.
“How’s it going, neighbor?”
“Xander?” she called. “What are you doing?”
“You shouldn’t climb so high without someone supporting the ladder.”
“I know,” she said, sounding sheepish. “I just wanted to get some fresh magnolias. I love them—they’re my favorite flower. They make the house smell so nice. But the ones on the ground are all brown, and we picked the ones near the bottom for the party.”
“Okay, keep going, I’ll hold on until you’ve finished.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.”
He kept his head tilted back, watching her through the leaves and shadowy branches. Telling himself he just wanted to make sure she didn’t slip, he pretended he wasn’t appreciating every inch of those long, bared legs.
“Oh, God!”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s a bee’s nest,” she said with a soft, worried groan.
“Calm down. Don’t panic.” He tightened his grip on the ladder, stepping to the side and trying to see up to the fork in the branches at which she was staring. “Start climbing down.”
She didn’t move.
“Mimi, come on, just back down one rung at a time. If you don’t bother them, they shouldn’t bother you.”
“I’m allergic,” she whispered. “Seriously allergic, and I don’t have an EpiPen with me.”
“It’s going to be fine,” he insisted, despite the fact that his tension had skyrocketed when she revealed how serious the allergy was. If she needed epinephrine, it was bad. “Just move one foot down. Come on, you can do it.” He would go
up to her but no way would he risk both their weights on an unsecured ladder. “One step at a time. Right down here to me, piece of cake.”
She moved down one rung, not looking where she was going, never taking her eyes off what appeared from here to be a nest as big as her face. Her second foot came down and met the first one on the rung, then she slowly moved down one more.
“That’s right, nice and easy,” he insisted.
She nodded and made it down one more. Then, from another branch, something buzzed up and swooped near her head. From here, it looked like a dragonfly. He imagined in her frightened, allergic mind, she was seeing the world’s most ginormous bee.
“No!” she snapped, waving a hand at it.
“Don’t let go… .”
Too late. She lost her grip. Trying to grab hold of the rung again, she yelped as it slipped through her fingers.
She fell.
Xander’s blood roared in his veins, but he reacted instinctively. Letting go of the ladder, he stepped back and extended his arms. As she plunged toward the ground, he caught her and swooped her out from under the tree. Behind them came the bees, whose nest had been disturbed by the jerking ladder.
“Hold on,” he ordered. Holding her close, he darted around the garage and ducked inside. The cloud of buzzing, angry bees followed, but kept right on going out toward the street.
They stood there in the shadows of the musty garage, sucking in deep, ragged breaths. It had all happened in probably no more than sixty seconds, but it had felt longer in his mind.
Xander didn’t put her down, holding her tightly against his body, one arm under her bent knees, the other her shoulders. He couldn’t stop thinking about how it could have gone down. Couldn’t get the image out of his mind, visualizing the way she’d looked as she’d crashed backward from so high up.
Even worse, his imagination filled in the blanks of what might have happened had he not been there. He practically heard the crunch of her body as she landed flat on her back on the hard ground. Could almost see the swarm of bees attacking her. And knew enough about bee allergies to know she could have been in very serious trouble if enough of them had gotten her.
Jesus. All for a couple of flowers, one of which she still had crushed to her chest.
Finally feeling as though he’d managed to bring his heart rate and his breathing under control, he looked at her face. She was pink-cheeked, wide-eyed. Her hair was tangled around her face, and a scratch marred one cheek. Her lips were parted and trembling and he saw the way her throat worked as she swallowed.
Finally, she whispered, “You saved me.”
Their stares met and locked. Heat and intensity flared up between them, as powerful as it had been Friday night. No, more so, because this time, they were wrapped together, her soft body pressed against his, her beautiful face so kissably close.
He thought about it. Seriously considered kissing the lips right off her, if only as a close-call reaction. But in the end, remembering her boyfriend—the one she had obviously slept with judging by that male voice he’d heard in the hallway—he squashed the impulse. He could forgive himself for one stolen kiss when she hadn’t been seriously involved with anyone. Now he knew she was.
“Yeah. Saved you from the big, bad dragonfly.”
She scrunched her nose. “Is that what it was?”
“I think so,” he said, slowly lowering her to the ground.
She swiped a hand through her hair. Xander reached out and plucked a few leaves from the long red strands, allowing himself a brief moment of pleasure at the soft feel of the curls against his fingertips.
“I still can’t believe I fell off that ladder and you caught me,” she said.
“Forget it,” he said. “Me and ladders go way back.”
“Can I…offer you a beer or something as a thank-you?”
He thought about it, considered the boyfriend. He shouldn’t, really. It had been hard enough to try not to think about her after Friday night. Why add to his stockpile of Mimi moments when nothing could come of them?
But some inner masochist answered. “Sure, that’d be great.”
She offered him a smile, then reached up and smoothed her hair back, tucking it behind her ears. “Why don’t we sit out on the patio? Do you think the coast is clear?”
“The bees?”
“Uh-huh.”
He stuck his head out and peered around the side of the garage, toward the backyard. The ladder on which she’d been standing was now lying on the lawn. He’d been so pumped up with adrenaline he hadn’t even heard it falling after her. He winced as another mental image shot to mind—of her on the ground and that huge thing landing on her.
She should never have been out there, hauling that ladder around, then climbing it, without any help whatsoever. He couldn’t help wondering where Mr. Perfect was and why he hadn’t been here for his girlfriend.
“All clear,” he said, forcing away the protective instincts. She was his neighbor, nothing else. They could be…neighborly. Have a beer. Share ten minutes of sunshine on a Sunday afternoon. No kissing. No thongs. No lusting.
No way.
It was crazy to even think he’d be able to manage that. He opened his mouth to say he’d changed his mind. But before he could, she gave him a bright smile. “Okay, I’ll go get the beer and meet you on the patio?”
He was helpless against that smile. “Fine.”
Watching her go, he was very aware of the sway of her hips and backside. He shook his head, trying to remind himself she was being friendly, just showing a little appreciation because he’d helped her out. He needed to forget everything else beyond that. Especially the way she’d looked out of those shorts.
His jeans suddenly tightened as that image forced itself to the forefront of his mind.
He attempted to tamp down the reaction by shifting his thoughts to less appealing things—like grits, God in heaven, who had ever decided to eat what looked like little pieces of dandruff? That helped, but he sensed his cock would remain ready to leap to attention until he got Mimi out of his mind and out of his system.
And wasn’t that going to be fun considering she lived right next door?
Heading for the patio, he sat down to wait, taking a good, daylight look around his new backyard. There had probably once been a much bigger lawn around the old plantation house, but the Georgia woods had encroached over the years. Now huge live oaks shaded much of it, and the little bit of grass quickly gave way to a carpet of evergreen needles and earth. It smelled like Southern summer, with a mix of peaches and pine, nothing like what he was used to in Chicago.
“Here you go,” she said when she returned, handing him an icy-cold bottle dripping with condensation. She’d brought one for herself, too, and twisted the top off it as she sat down.
“Thanks.” He opened the beer, sipped deeply, then nodded. “I didn’t realize how hot it was out here. Guess I’ll have to get used to these Southern summers.”
She laughed. “Summer? Are you joking? This is only early June. By August fifteenth, you’re going to be calling Hell and asking them to send up some cooler air.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Worse. Is this really your first summer in Georgia?”
He sipped the beer again, nodding. “I was born and raised in Chicago. Never even visited south of the Mason-Dixon Line until I came down to interview for my new job here.”
“Which is?”
“I’m a firefighter.”
Her eyes widened. “That explains the ladder crack.”
“Yep.”
“So you’re used to heat.”
More used to it every minute he spent with her. “You could say that. What about you?”
“I’m in sales.”
“What do you sell?” He grinned. “Please tell me it’s not thongs.”
“Ha. I actually run the marketing department for Burdette Foods.”
He of course recognized the name. “Family business?”
&nbs
p; “Yes. My father’s the CEO. What does your family think about you moving so far away from home?”
His jaw clenched for just a moment. He supposed he needed to get used to questions like that, but it was still hard to say the words he forced to his mouth. “I don’t have any family.”
A frown formed between her eyes. “Oh.”
“I’m an only child of two only children,” he explained. “And my parents both passed away last year.”
