by Linda Turner
Chapter 10
The Eagle's Nest was one of those small travel courts that had been built in the late forties and never progressed much beyond that. Carports separated the rooms, the bathrooms were all pink tile and the furniture was, amazingly, made of real wood. Separated from Lorenzo's room by their connecting carport, Eliza stepped inside her room and couldn't help but be charmed. She felt like she'd stepped back in time.
"I'll pick you up at seven," Lorenzo said as he carried her bag inside for her. "Unless you want to get something to eat beforehand."
"Oh, no," she said, her mind already jumping to what she had to wear. "We can get something later. I'll see you at seven."
Standing right where he was, Lorenzo lifted a brow at her in amusement. "Why do I have the feeling you're trying to get rid of me?"
"Because I am," she retorted, grinning at him. "I can't remember the last time I went to a dance. I have to get ready."
They both knew the dance would be a casual one—they could probably both go as they were, in their jeans and long-sleeved western shirts, and no one would look twice at them. But Eliza was as excited as a teenager who'd been invited to her first junior high dance, and Lorenzo had never seen her that way. She didn't have a clue how cute she looked.
"Then I guess I'll make myself scarce," he said with a grin. Giving in to impulse, he trailed a caressing finger over the curve of her cheek. "See you later."
It was the first time he'd touched her in days. Her body humming, Eliza pressed a hand to her cheek and couldn't have said how long she stood there, remembering the night they'd made love and her entire life had changed. Then she remembered the dance. She was wasting time.
Quickly grabbing the phone book and phone, she found the number to Sally's Dress Shop and punched in the number, praying all the while. "Please be there. I need your help."
She'd just about given up hope and was about to hang up when the dress shop owner suddenly answered the phone. "Sally's," she said breathlessly. "May I help you?"
"Sally! This is.. .um, Carol. I just talked to you about my brother..."
"Yes, dear, I remember. Was Charlie able to help you?"
"As a matter of fact, he was." Quickly giving her a rundown of what the hardware store owner had told her, she said, "I know in my heart that my brother is at the Chambers ranch, but I can't drive out there until the morning. In the meantime, I need your help again. I was thinking about going to the dance at the VFW hall tonight, but I don't have a dress."
"Then you called the right person. I was just about to walk out the door, but I don't have anything pressing to do at home except watch the evening news. C'mon over. I'd love to help you find a dress."
"I'll be right there," Eliza promised and hung up.
She walked to the dress shop—it was only two blocks— and arrived to find Sally waiting for her. Grinning like a coconspirator who'd just successfully robbed a bank, the older woman unlocked the door, glanced up and down the street, then motioned her inside. "This is going to be so much fun! So tell me what you want? Something long? Short? Frilly? Come and look! I have just the color for you."
Pulling her over to a rack where a dozen dresses of every conceivable color hung, she didn't wait for Eliza to pick out a dress, but chose one for her instead. "This is it," she said softly. "Trust me. You'll look beautiful in it."
Eliza took one look and hesitated. It wasn't the kind of dress she ever would have chosen for herself. First, it was red, and she never wore red—it always clashed with her hair. And the material was some kind of soft, clingy material that would hug her figure and make her look even thinner than she was. "Oh, I don't know, Sally. I was thinking of something more tailored. And I'm not sure about the color."
"I am," the older woman said, her smile understanding, "but we'll pick out some other things and you can try them all on and see which one you like best. Now how about this? You like blue, don't you? It goes beautifully with your eyes."
They made a whirlwind trip through the store, picking out a half-dozen dresses in six different colors and styles, then Sally rushed her to the dressing room. "You'll need shoes to match, and something for your hair. Oh, the blue is nice on you, dear. What do you think?"
Studying herself in the full-length mirror of the dressing room, Eliza frowned. It was a nice dress, but it was similar to something she had bought last year. This was her last night with Lorenzo and the only chance she would have to go out with him on a real live date. She wanted something special. This wasn't it.
"It's okay," she said with a shrug, "but not quite what I'm looking for. Let's try the green next."
One by one, she tried one dress after another, all except the red, and although they were all pretty, she didn't think any of them were eye-catching. And Sally knew it. Grinning, she didn't say a word, but simply held out the red dress to her.
"All right," she sighed, "I'll try it. But it's a waste of time."
Turning her back to the mirror, she stepped into the garment and pulled it up, smoothing the soft material over her hips as Sally zipped it for her. It did have a wonderful feel to it, she thought. If only it wasn't red! "I love the way it fits over my hips," she told Sally as she turned to face the mirror. "Do you have it in another color—"
Catching sight of herself in the mirror, she never heard the older woman's response. Stunned, she just stood there, unable to believe her eyes. She'd always been gangly and had never felt very comfortable in dresses. She was just too thin.. .which was why when she did have to wear a dress, she generally chose shifts and loose-fitting dresses so they would add a little weight to her slender frame. But there was nothing loose about this dress. Cut on the bias, it softly molded her breasts, hugged her small waist, then flared over her hips and fell to midcalf in a feminine swirl of soft red wool to highlight every curve of a figure she hadn't known she had.
"Oh, my," she said faintly, pressing a hand to her pounding heart. "It's beautiful!"
"No, you're beautiful," Sally corrected her with a smile. "When the cowboys at the dance tonight get a look at you, you're going to knock them right out of their boots."
Eliza wasn't interested in the cowboys—it was only one very special duke she wanted to impress—but that was something she kept to herself. "But it's red," she said, still stunned by the way the color flattered her skin.
"Yes, it is," Sally chuckled. "And it looks wonderful on you. I presume you're buying it."
"Of course!"
"Then let's see about your shoes. And before you leave here, I'm going to French braid your hair for you. Okay?"
Still reeling from what the dress did for her, Sally could have told her she was going to shave her head and she wouldn't have argued. "Whatever you say," she said with a grin and followed her to the small shoe department at the back of the shop.
* * *
Lorenzo knew he should have stuck to his disguise and worn jeans and a western shirt to the dance, but he figured the small town of Shady Rock wasn't too up on their royal watching. Besides, he wanted to wear his own clothes for a change. Especially tonight. He couldn't forget the sparkle in Eliza's eyes when she'd all but booted him out of her room so she could get ready for the dance. She'd been so excited, and he couldn't resist the need to make the night special for her. So he took a quick shower and shaved, then dressed in slacks, a dress shirt, coat and tie. If he was slightly overdressed, he didn't care. Tonight was their first real date —and probably the only one they would ever have—and he wanted it to be memorable.
Anticipating her surprise when she saw him and realized that tonight was going to be different from other evenings they'd spent together, he knocked on her door promptly at seven. When she didn't answer, he frowned and knocked again. "Eliza?" he called. "Are you ready?"
"Coming," she replied. "Just a moment."
A split second later, he heard her turn the deadbolt and was all set to tease her about running late for their big date. Then she opened the door.
With a singl
e look, she stole the air right out of his lungs. He'd known she planned to primp for the dance—she'd all but told him so—but he'd never expected this. His heart slamming against his ribs, he couldn't take his eyes off of her. She wasn't a woman who fussed with her makeup and hair—most of the time, all her focus seemed to be on her work. In spite of that, he'd always thought she was pretty. But now...dear God, she was beautiful!
She'd done something with her hair, taming the wild burnished curls into a feminine braid that revealed the delicate lines of her throat and neck. Aching to kiss her where her pulse throbbed at the base of her neck, he swallowed.. .and made the mistake of dropping his gaze to her dress.
There wasn't anything the least bit suggestive about it. It was modest and sophisticated, with a scooped neck and flared skirt that revealed very little skin. Yet it was still the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. She was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen, he silently corrected himself. And she finally knew it—he could see the knowledge in her eyes—and that made her even sexier.
"You're gorgeous," he said huskily.
Warm color surged into her cheeks. "Thank you," she said, flashing him a flirtatious smile. "So are you. I'm glad you didn't dress western."
"I wanted tonight to be special," he said simply, and held out his hand to her. "Ready?"
"For anything," she said with a grin, and placed her hand in his.
* * *
The VFW hall was little more than a metal airplane hangar with a wooden dance floor, but whoever had decorated it had done themselves proud. Thousands of
twinkle lights hung from the rafters, setting the place aglow, and on the tables that were spread around the hall, chunky candles in hurricane lamps were the centerpiece for pine cuttings that added a wonderful scent to the night air. It was the music, however, that drew a crowd to the hall, and as Lorenzo and Eliza stepped inside, the dance floor was already packed; and it was just barely seven. Listening to the music coming from the country-western band on stage at one end of the dance floor, it was easy to see why. The band wasn't just good, it was fantastic.
Surprised, Lorenzo grinned. "I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't this. This is great!"
Eliza had to agree. She'd been afraid they would be overdressed—not that she would have changed her dress for anything!—but a majority of the couples present had dressed up. And the cowboys who'd worn jeans wore their best.
"I've got to remember all of this so I can include it in my story," she said, her sparkling blue eyes taking in everything at once. "My readers aren't going to believe this!"
The song the band was belting out changed then to a love song Shania Twain had won a Grammy for, and just that easily, the mood in the hall shifted and turned romantic. Lifting a masculine brow at her, Lorenzo said, "I believe they're playing our song, Ms. Windmere. Shall we?"
Eliza couldn't have resisted if she'd been offered her own column in the New York Times. Without a word, she let him lead her to the dance floor.
She loved music; she always had. And dancing. In her head, she was Ginger Rogers whenever she pictured herself stepping onto a dance floor. She could see herself in Fred Astaire's arms, dipping and swirling and gliding across the floor with a grace that was wonderful to behold.
In reality, however, she'd always been a little stiff.
She just couldn't seem to make herself let go, though God knows, she'd tried. And though she still loved to dance, she'd accepted long ago that she would never be as graceful as she
longed to be on the dance floor.
Then she stepped into Lorenzo's arms and everything
changed.
At first, she told herself that her heart was playing tricks
on her. The lights dimmed, Lorenzo gathered her close, and
she was floating. She was sure her feet didn't even touch the
dance floor. Then she realized they were moving—she was
moving!—as gracefully as a pair of swans gliding across an
alpine lake.
Stunned, she stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes wide.
"Oh, my God! I'm dancing!"
Lorenzo laughed. "Isn't that what we came for?" "But you don't understand—I'm not any good at this!" "Really?" he chuckled. "You could have fooled me." Still
laughing, he pulled her back into his arms.
* * *
The evening that followed was like something out of Eliza's dreams. They danced nearly every dance, moving in perfect step in each other's arms, and when they weren't on the dance floor, they were still holding hands, still touching. All around them, people laughed and danced and swayed to the beat of the music, but they saw and heard only each other.
Breathless, her heart throbbing from his nearness, from the feel of his body brushing against hers, she couldn't remember the last time she'd been so happy. There was only tonight... and Lorenzo—the feel of his arms around her, the intoxicating scent of his aftershave, the way his hand held hers as if he would never let her go. It was perfect and magical, and neither of them spoke of tomorrow or the future. Nothing mattered but tonight and this evening they'd stolen for themselves out of time.
It couldn't, however, last forever. One hour turned into another, then another, and before they knew it, the band was announcing the last dance. Just that easily, the evening was over.
Her heart sinking, Eliza didn't want it to end. It was too soon. Tomorrow, their time together would be over, one way or the other. If they found the prince, he and Lorenzo would fly to Montebello immediately. If the man who was working at the Chambers ranch turned out to be someone else, Simon wouldn't allow her to continue with a search that was going nowhere, and she would have no choice but to return to Denver. She would go back to her life, Lorenzo would continue with his, and they'd eventually look back on this time they'd had together as if it was something out of a dream.
Sadness pulled at her, and to her horror, she felt tears sting her eyes. Glancing away before Lorenzo could see, she would have sworn she didn't make a sound, but somehow, he sensed the change in her mood. With a quiet, wordless murmur, he pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of her eye, then her ear. "Let's go back to the motel," he said huskily, and led her outside to the truck.
The night was cold, and sometime during the past three hours, a fine powder of snow had fallen, but Eliza never noticed as Lorenzo helped her into the truck, then joined her in the cab. With a flick of his wrist, he started the motor and turned on the heater. Then he was reaching for her.
It seemed like she had been waiting for this moment all evening. With every dance, every brush of his body against hers, the need inside her had burned brighter, hotter, until all she could think of was him and where he would touch her next. It had been soft, exquisite torture, seduction without a single kiss. And she'd loved it. But now she wanted, needed, more.
Turning into his arms, she kissed him sweetly, hotly, with all the pent-up frustration burning inside her, and when he groaned, she almost forgot that they were in a parking lot. "Lorenzo!"
"I know, sweetheart," he rasped, dropping a string of kisses down the side of her neck. "I hadn't planned to start this here, but you've been driving me crazy all night. Hey, where are you going?" he said when she would have moved across the bench seat to the far side of the cab.
"We're in a parking lot," she reminded him with a soft moan when he kissed her again.
"I know, sweetheart," he said roughly. "Don't worry. I'm not going to get us arrested. Just stay close while I drive us back to the motel."
How he managed to concentrate on his driving, Lorenzo never knew. She was all he could think of. Even as he drove, he couldn't let her go. His right hand covered hers, their fingers linked, and they sat hip to hip, thigh to thigh, all the way to the motel.
Without a word, Lorenzo walked her to her door, and when she held out her key to him, there was no question that he was staying the night. Unlocking the door for her, he followed her inside and shut the door. A heartbeat later, the
y were in each other's arms.
How long had he wanted her? He couldn't even remember when it had begun. From the moment he had first met her, she'd caught his attention and tugged at his senses. She'd sparked a fire in him that had only grown hotter with each passing day, and the one time he'd given in to his need and made love to her, he'd only wanted her more.
Knowing that, accepting it, he shouldn't have even considered making love to her again. But he couldn't consider anything else. Not after the way she danced with him, touched him, melted against him time and again as they'd circled the dance floor in a slow rhythm that was uniquely their own. She captivated him with her smile, her touch, the passion that was in her kiss and eyes and everything she did, and there was no way he was walking away from her. Not tonight.
Giving in to the need to touch all of her, he reached for the tab of her zipper as he kissed his way down her throat. "You're so beautiful," he groaned. "Do you know what you do to me in this dress?"
"Drive you crazy, I hope," she whispered softly as the bones in her neck seemed to dissolve one by one. Her eyes closing on a sigh, she leaned against him weakly. "Mmmm," she hummed. "I love it when you do that."
She was driving him crazy, all right, and he loved it as much as she did. When she got all soft and hot, he just wanted to sweep her up in his arms and carry her off to his lair like a caveman. Giving in to the impulse, he dragged her zipper the rest of the way down, then slipped his hand beneath her knees, and lightning quick, lifted her off her feet and cradled her against his chest.
Surprised, she gasped, clinging to him as he strode toward the bed. "What are you doing? The light—"
"I want to see you," he growled, and followed her down to the bed.
Breathless, every nerve ending in her body tingling and her heart pounding wildly, she looked up at him with wide blue eyes and found herself suddenly shy and unsure. The one time they'd made love, she'd had the shadows of the night to conceal the imperfections of her body. This was the last time they would have together. She didn't want anything to ruin it. "I'm skinny."
