by Misty Simon
Strolling out onto the main road, the crisp autumn air swirled the fallen leaves from the flower tubs and gutters, cleaning the street and making me long for a steaming cup of apple cider. This is what fall was supposed to be like, not the all-the-time sunshine of southern California. I loved this town and wanted to stay for as long as they’d have me.
Now I had to get through my first small-town shindig and continue to make a good impression. No embarrassing moments of drunken stumbling, no dancing on tables (as if I’d ever done that), and no hot and heavy action with Ben, at least not on the dance floor. But no one said I couldn’t take him home.
Nothing would go wrong tonight, not with Bella already there and Janice as my new ally.
Life was good. I had a great new career, a possible lover, and two great new friends. Everything was going much better than I’d expected on the day I opened that letter and read the words “your inheritance.”
My only problem was I kept on waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop. Nothing had ever been this easy for me. Why did I think everything would fall into place this time? I didn’t know, and I was soon to find out that the other shoe was not merely a shoe, but a woman’s size eleven with a stiletto heel.
Chapter Seven
Luminaries made from sand-filled paper bags lined the circular gravel drive in front of the barn. I’d followed Janice’s little green Miata to the Ball because I wanted to be able to leave on my own (or with Ben in tow) at the end of the evening. Tomorrow was going to be a busy one for me—all those costume returns. Yikes!
But I banished the thought to the back of my mind as I parked my Hyundai and waited for Janice to finish her makeup in the Miata’s rearview mirror. I checked my little black handbag to make sure I had all the essentials for the evening: wallet, license, new cell phone Bella had programmed, against my repeated protests, to play an annoying rendition of James Brown when it rang.
I took the phone out of my bulging purse and attached it to my waist to eke out a little more room for the blood-red lipstick and the perfume I’d chosen for tonight. Might need to touch up, if my plans for kissing Ben came to fruition. (Another good word. Must remember to throw it at Daisy, Maggie, Rose, and Dad during one of our weekly calls.)
When Janice finally emerged from her car, I was anxious to get into the Barn and see if my visions of Zorro matched the way Ben filled out the costume in real life. Would I do a graceful swan dive to the floor upon seeing him? At least that would get my fear of embarrassing myself out of the way quick.
After putting on our masks, Janice and I walked up to the big double doors and the funny thing was that, for the first time in a long time, I found someone who could match my stride. My legs weren’t really long, but I tended to be a fast walker and had found myself ten feet ahead of Bella the couple of times we’d walked around town. It was refreshing to have someone who could keep up.
“So what kind of dancing do you have at these things?” I asked her as we walked through the enormous doors and gave our coats to a skinny girl in a witch’s hat and cape from my shop. Thank you, skinny girl. “Am I going to be looked down on because I don’t know how to do-si-do?”
Janice laughed and lightly swatted me on the arm. “For God’s sake,” she said, “we’re not hicks.”
We’d agreed not to use our names yet because we wanted to stay anonymous for a little while before we had to do the whole mingling thing. Janice had told me this was one of the best places to drum up business for the remainder of the year. Most people needed annual reports and Christmas cards done and were still looking for someone to help them. So Janice helped by passing out her business card and reminding them she was local and available.
“I wasn’t thinking hick.” Had I already offended my potential new friend? It would be just like me. Open mouth insert high heel. “I thought square dancing was popular here and didn’t want to be caught unaware.”
“Yeah, right. You are so full of crap. But I dare you to request ‘The Virginia Reel’ before the night’s over.” A smile and a wink told me I had not in fact shoved my foot in my mouth. Good.
We made our way into the main room, and my eyes took a minute to adjust to the lack of fluorescent light. Even though I was being hustled along the length of the cement floor of the hall, I took the time to study my surroundings and get a feel for the place. Large, old-fashioned chandeliers filled with pillar candles hung from exposed beams, orange and black tealight candles floated in mini cauldrons filled with green-tinted water, and candelabras draped with spider webs had been placed on each round table circling the scarred wood dance floor.
We arrived at the food tables and accepted smoking punch in pumpkin mugs from a ghoul. I was a little afraid to go see what they had for food. The town obviously took this Halloween business seriously. I hoped I wouldn’t be forced to make my excuses over bat soup or eye of newt on toast points—caviar was bad enough. Ew! Then again, this was technically the country, so I assumed I should worry more about something that involved cow tongue or chicken livers.
“So how long do these things usually last?” I asked Janice as we stood at the base of the darkened stage situated in the far corner of the cavernous barn.
“Until about eleven. Why? Hot date?”
“I seriously hope so, if my fantasy comes true with Zorro.”
“Zorro?” she said, but then I didn’t have a chance to elaborate, because a man dressed as Robin Hood came up and grabbed Janice’s hand to slobber all over it. Janice tugged it out of his grasp and giggled after Sir Robin of the funky hood, which could not have come from my shop because it was too tacky, finally kissed every finger on her hand.
The no-names thing made introductions awkward, but we made do with, “Hi, friend of Janice,” and a return, “Nice to meet you, friend of Janice also.” I knew Janice didn’t mean to not include me in their conversation, but somehow they started talking about something called Bluelines, and I started looking around for someone else so I could make their acquaintance. Plus, I was still keeping an eye out for the elusive Zorro.
I spotted Bella in her trampy princess costume and tapped Janice on the shoulder. “I’m going to go talk to that princess,” I mouthed.
“Okay,” she mouthed back and squeezed my hand. “I’ll see you later.”
I took off in the direction where I’d last seen Princess Trasherella and found her near a huge barrel smelling of apples and cinnamon. We hugged and she whispered, “You look fabulous. Not a spot of brown in sight. I’m so proud of you. Tell me your underwear is some exotic color.”
“Isn’t that supposed to be some lucky stud’s line?” I asked.
“Har-har. Now answer the question.”
“They’re brown,” I said with a straight face. The look she gave me in return was simply priceless.
“No way. You have to be joking.” She stared into my eyes like she was willing me to come up with a different answer. “Tell me you are joking.”
“You sure are pretty demanding with your ‘tell me’s.’ ”
“Don’t toy with me, Ivy Morris. Are you or are you not wearing something other than brown underneath that fabulous costume?” Her voice became louder with every word.
“Yes, Ivy.” My skin prickled with goose bumps as someone whispered in my ear. “Tell us what you have under that fabulous costume.”
Holy crap! I whirled to find Ben stood directly behind me in all his dark, mysterious hero glory. The black hat sat at a rakish angle over brown hair just visible under the brim. A black silk shirt hung open to the middle of a magnificent chest touched with enough hair to play with post-coitally. Black shiny pants hugged muscles and flesh like a second skin. A black satin cape swirled to the backs of his knees, where it met the top of his polished boots. The mask added to the overall yummy factor, and my mouth started to water. Seriously, it was a true test of my mettle as a woman to not start panting like a bitch in heat.
I did not want to go back to wishing the floor would open up and s
wallow me whole, so I tried something new. Brash and brazen—the hussy flapper. “Actually, you’ll be pleased to know that this night’s underwear choice is purple velvet.”
Bella smiled, and I was pretty sure I’d managed to shut Ben up for the first time in his life. No sexy comments, no snappy comeback—just his mouth hanging open wide enough to catch flies.
I took it a step further, raised my upturned hand to gently rest it beneath his chin, and closed his mouth with a snap. He jerked out of his stupefaction (Oh, good word, Ivy) and I saw him try to work up a suitable response. I headed him off at the pass. “Later, Boy Wonder, I might let you find out how incredibly soft velvet can be.” Then I walked away, pulling a laughing Bella behind me.
“You are so bad.” Bella snickered for about the fifth time as we made our way slowly through the buffet-style food line. Cream puffs and little quiches sat next to something called succotash and a big crockpot of baked beans. Not exactly what I had imagined for a Harvest Ball, but I was willing to embrace different.
We found a place to sit after our plates were full. Our candelabra’s candles stood tall and straight, barely used in all their orange glory. Fortunately, they didn’t have a pumpkin scent or some other essence associated with Halloween. I did not want to try to eat my fragrant French dip while inhaling a burning leaves smell, thank you very much.
“That was pretty steamy with Ben,” Bella said, spooning up some potato salad. “Are you really thinking about taking him to bed already?”
“Yes and no.” I sighed because theory was always so much better than reality. In theory, I could take Ben to bed and not need some kind of commitment from him. In theory, I could have my way with him, leave in the middle of the night, and take him or leave him the next day. In theory, I wasn’t terrified I’d be the one left the next day without a phone call, dreaming of our wedding and tearing through one of those baby books looking for names for our three children.
In reality, I knew I’d never sleep with him until we’d been on at least three dates. It was a personal rule for a reason, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t tease him in the process.
“Yes, I’d love to be able to take him home and have my way with him. But no, I’ve never done that and I can’t see myself starting now.”
“Come on, Ivy. You could do it. Lure him back to your love nest and let nature take its course.” She speared a carrot and popped it into her red-slicked mouth.
“You have got to be kidding me.” I watched in amazement. Her lipstick didn’t fade one bit with each new piece of food she put in her mouth. How did she do that? “How do you do that?” I shook my head. “Never mind. I liked Ben when I met him. He’s fun, and sexy as hell, but I need more than that. I, uh, can’t get into the, uh, mood if I don’t have pretty strong feelings for someone.” And why was I talking about my sex life in the middle of the second biggest party of the year? (Christmas being number one.) I was talking about my sex life in the middle of the second biggest party of the year because this was Bella, and ever since we’d both choked on the coloring fumes coming from my hair in her salon, I’ve felt I could tell her anything.
But with Zorro lingering in the area, I had to be very careful with what I said. He seemed to be right next to my ear every time I said anything the least bit risqué. I quickly looked around the huge room and my eyes landed on the broadest shoulders I’d ever had the pleasure of touching. The cape still draped over the shoulders, but my mind kept conjuring up this awesome image of all that yummy flesh uncovered before my very eyes. At least I was sitting down, so no one had to witness my knees turning to Jell-O when he turned around and his eyes locked on mine, the wicked smile washing across his chiseled face again.
Totally swoon worthy. And speaking of worthy, did I really think this guy seriously wanted me for more than a roll in the proverbial hay, when he was as god-like as Adonis? I mean, little kids didn’t run away from me screaming, but surely he could find someone else more his physical equal, even in a town this small. The point became moot when Bella dug her nails into my arm and said, “Here comes Kitty.”
I’d told Bella about the weird feeling I got when Kitty talked to me. I’d kept the lingerie theft to myself, however, because it was going to be my first foray into the land of backbone. Could I figure out who the thief was, and would I stand up to him or her when I had their name? There were no guarantees I’d have the brass balls to do it, but I was certainly going to attempt to channel my inner Bella and try.
Kitty glided right past us, and I was a little baffled. Had I been snubbed, or did she really not recognize me?
“Can you believe that?” Bella asked. “You should march right up to her and tell her to never ignore you like that again.”
I thought about it for maybe a second and then came to a decision. “You know, I’m going to pass on that. If she doesn’t want to talk to me, it’s no skin off my nose. Actually, it’ll be nice to not listen to her make her thinly veiled, snide comments for one evening. Besides, she looks kind of distracted, doesn’t she? Like she has something on her mind?”
“What, other than her perfectly done steel hair and her precious son, could possibly fit in her little head?”
“That’s not very nice, Bella.”
She took a sip of her punch and eyed me over the rim. “Why do you care? She’s so fake and mean. Did I ever tell you about the time she went ballistic in the salon because I gave her tea with sugar instead of Sweet-N-Low? Turns out she says her body can’t tolerate sugar. I got a huge nasty lecture from her. Witch. I don’t know how Jackie puts up with her as a potential mother-in-law. Charlie must be a freaking wonder in bed.”
I didn’t have an answer for her, so I went back to ogling the object of my near-affection, wondering if he was worthy of a witchy mother-in-law because of his prowess in bed. I bet he was.
That object breathed into my ear a split-second after I smelled his dark cologne. What was it about my ears? He always breathed or whispered into them. I would have asked, but I didn’t want him to think I was uncomfortable and decide to stop. I loved the delicious shiver that ran through my body whenever he did the ear-whispering thing. Plus, was there a tactful way to say, “You can’t talk in my ear but I wouldn’t object to a little nibbling”? There was the Hussy Flapper again, raring to come back out and play. I’d have to remember to spritz my eau-de-toilet behind my earlobes from now on.
“Hey, Velvet. Care to dance?”
Okay, a serious tremor streaked down my back, darting to my stomach and lower. Now, I could do one of two things at this point. I could a) turn my head slightly and brush my lips against his as I said a sultry “yes,” or b) worry about my breath since I took that bite of spicy potato salad with the onion in it.
Yeah, I chose “b.” I’m not dumb.
In answer to Zorro’s question and avoidance of the potential bad-breath issue, I pushed my chair back and stood up. A discreet hand over my mouth and one quick exhale informed me the breath wasn’t as bad as I thought. I immediately felt better about the prospect of snuggling up to my favorite folklore hero and sexy food critic.
After leading me out to the scarred wooden dance floor, his big hands circled around my waist and rested on the curves of my hips. He slowly drew me closer to his chest, and I was gratified to find myself nestled under his chin, even with the added height of my spike heels. Very nice.
Eric Clapton crooned “You Look Wonderful Tonight” and Zorro sang it in my ear in a horrible Spanish accent. It could have been a really romantic moment, but it struck me as incredibly funny, which got me even hotter than just sexy. There’s something about a guy who doesn’t take himself too seriously and doesn’t expect you to take him seriously all the time, either.
We moved around the polished floor in a tight circle. Avoiding the other couples on the floor wasn’t difficult, given the fact Ben pretty much shuffled his feet back and forth and held me close. Although that wasn’t a very good description of Ben’s dancing abilities, because he a
lso had this whole pelvic motion thing that was both distracting and ecstasy-producing at the same time. I felt hypnotized when I moved my head from his chest and looked up into his clear green eyes. A spell was coming over me, and it was exciting. My only problem was that I couldn’t figure out if I wanted to be powerless against it or stick to my own rules and ruin what I was sure would be a great time for myself. The decision was torn right out of my hands as a scream ripped through the barn.
Chapter Eight
I jerked away from Ben, startled at the scream. Then I felt the vibrating at my waist and remembered my damn cell phone. The one with the new ring tone Bella had so thoughtfully put on it. Nothing like the scream of James Brown during “I Feel Good” to stop you from potentially getting as close to a wonderful set of lips as possible.
“Dammit,” I said, fumbling for the infernal phone so I could at least turn off the loop of the song. I teetered on my extremely high heels (that made my legs look extra sexy but did nothing for my poor sore feet) until Ben grabbed my elbow and steered me to the edge of the dance floor.
Flipping open the phone, I looked at the digital readout and groaned when I saw it was Bella. “Yes, Bella? Why are you calling me when we’re in the same room?”
She snorted. “As if you didn’t know. I’m saving you from yourself. Things were looking a little steamy with you and Ben, and I wanted to stop you from making a mistake.”
“You have got to be kidding me.”
“I absolutely am not kidding you. I saw that wily hand of his creeping down to your ass and your fingers playing with the neckline of his fabulous hair, and decided to jump in, but not in an intrusive way.”
“You don’t find this intrusive?”
“Not compared to physically insinuating myself between the two of you. I guess I could have come over and moved his hand back up to the middle of your back where it should have stayed in the first place. Or maybe I could have smacked your hand while it played with the hair on his neck. Either way, I thought this was the better option.”
