by Mary Beesley
He drove slowly, as if he didn’t want to get to her place too soon. He didn’t hold her hand. Why didn’t he reach over and put his palm on her thigh? Why didn’t he lean over and kiss her at the red lights? She bit her lip as she looked out her window at the inky sky. So she was ridiculously into this random guy she barely knew and kinda loving it. She hadn’t thought about losing her job or Leonard Allred the entire night. Until now. She brushed the annoying thoughts away again and focused on the man at her side. He looked over, eying her smile.
“I think you were bad luck for the Rangers tonight.”
Before she could think of a clever retort, his phone rang through the car, cutting off the soft music he’d been playing.
“Sorry.” He pressed a button on the dash.
“It’s okay, you can take it.”
“No, I don’t—”
“Hello?” A female voice came through the car speakers.
“Zena?” Surprise sharpened his voice as his fingers jumped back up to the dash.
“Yeah. So get this, L—”
“Whoops.” He hit another button, cutting off the woman mid-word.
“Ahh. Did you just hang up on her?”
She couldn’t read his face in the dim light, but his gaze darted over the windshield.
“Yeah. But I answered by accident, so it doesn’t count.”
“I did not know that rule.”
He relinquished a half smile. “It was just my sister. I’ll call her back later.” He pulled up to the curb in front of Tempest’s house, his shoulders tense. “Thanks again for coming with me. I had fun.”
“Me too.” Why wasn’t he getting out? And why did he look so nervous and shy all of a sudden? Was she seriously not getting any love tonight?
“Will you still come with me Saturday?”
“Yes.” She hesitated. Why wasn’t he walking her to the house? Or all the way to her bedroom right now? He didn’t get out. She opened the door. “See you later.” She closed the door and hurried up the walk. She had a pretty good idea how those poor Dallas baseball players were feeling tonight.
Chapter Five
The Party
Saturday evening Leo parked in front of Tempest’s condo. Hopefully she didn’t hate the costume because he’d left zero room for error, not the usual way he operated. But all the parts hadn’t come together until yesterday afternoon, and he’d gotten busy at work, and he couldn’t have Dean deliver the costume for her to try on. And he didn’t want to send anyone else, lest they slipped up and told Tempest anything important—like his name. Lying was super annoying and way too much work.
Tuesday had been a disaster. Well, the game had been amazing, and he’d been halfway blind with infatuation by the end. But then Zena had called. After she’d almost outed him by saying his name, he hadn’t even had the balls to walk the poor woman to her door. No kiss. No nothing. He was so ashamed, and yet the thought of admitting the truth had him wanting to glue his mouth shut. If only he didn’t like her so much. He could almost feel his heart bracing itself against the incoming explosion.
He hefted the garment bag and stalked up the path to her door. At least he imagined he was stalking. He planned to stalk all night. Came with the costume. He knocked. After thirteen seconds, Tempest opened the door.
Still beautiful.
She wore yoga pants and a loose tee, but her makeup was done so her blue eyes popped. She looked him over, her gaze betraying nothing. “Don’t tell me you’re Romeo.”
He laughed. It was a joke, right? He wasn’t quite sure; she said it with a face as straight as a ruler. “I regret not thinking of that.”
“A peasant?”
“Really? That’s where you went next?” He looked down at his brown vest, made from real leather. The canvas pants. The supple boots. Nothing a peasant could afford. “I shouldn’t have left my bow and arrow in the car.”
“Ah. Cupid.”
“Just stop, okay. You’re killing my confidence.”
She finally smiled, that wide mouth curving. She stepped back, allowing him inside.
The place was neat, but not clean clean. Sneakers lay on their sides by the doormat. Junk mail splattered the kitchen counter, and dust frosted the lamp. But still, much better than most, and she had a roommate. Was the half-empty coffee cup hers or Blair’s? Stop doing that. It doesn’t matter. The place smelled fresh, and he got a clean vibe from Tempest. He would have no hesitation putting his mouth on this female—once he worked up the courage. The thought gave him a little thrill. Hopefully he’d end tonight better than last time. “Nice place. Is your roommate here?”
“No. She’s already at the Thanes’ party.”
Leo stopped in surprise.
“She’s a caterer. They called her in to help with the serving. Hopefully you’ll get to meet her there.”
He could only hope Blair didn’t know who he really was. This lie was giving him an ulcer. Come clean, man. Now is always the time. He turned with a grin and a flourish of his arm. “I am Robin of the Hood.”
She gave him an appreciative nod. “Outlaw, thief, and murderer.”
“The murderer part is up for question.”
“No. It’s not. How do you think he became an outlaw in the first place? Sometimes Hollywood gets the facts wrong.”
“He’s fictional.”
She huffed as if insulted. “As long as he’s still a good date.”
He chuckled because he couldn’t think of anything to say. He hadn’t sparred like this since Ivan moved into his dorm freshman year, and that man didn’t have Tempest’s sense of humor.
“But,” she said, “I’ve never been out with a criminal before, at least that I know of. ’Twill be an adventure.” She paused, her face going serious. Her shoulders dropped, and her voice came out low. “I’m Maid Marian.”
If she was trying to cover her disappointment, she was doing a terrible job. He’d never been happier to say, “No.”
Her eyes brightened. “Little John?”
“Also no. I didn’t bring you an enormous man outfit.”
She opened her mouth, but he held up a forestalling hand.
“I can’t take any more guesses. I’m going to tell you, and hopefully you’ll act like it’s acceptable.” He pulled a delicate mask out of a box. It was painted tan and gold, with white dots on the cheekbones and a dark brown bar over the nose. Fine shimmering antlers curled from the top. “You are a forest fawn.”
She giggled and clapped her hands to her chest. “Oh, I love it.”
“Wow. That was really good acting.”
She rolled her eyes and held out her hands. “I’m being serious. It’s perfect.”
“Phew, because you really stressed me out with how anti-Lady Marian you were.” He set the mask in her long fingers.
Her voice was quiet. “It’s beautiful.”
And she would never know how much it cost to have that rush custom made.
She settled it over her eyes, the bottom of the mask ending just over her cheekbones. She blinked her big eyes.
Yup. Super sexy.
“Is there more to this costume?” she asked.
“I’m pretty sure deer go naked.” He bit his tongue. What a creepy thing to say.
“You think I look like a deer under here?” She lifted the hem of her shirt, exposing a curved waist and flat stomach. The shirt kept going up. Pale ribs. The bottom edge of a black bra.
What’s happening? He jerked his gaze down to the bag in his hand. “No. You don’t look like any kind of antelope I’ve ever seen.” He sensed her drop her shirt, but he didn’t dare look up. Unless…what if they just skipped the party…?
She chuckled. “Just checking.”
Face hot, he pulled out brown suede leggings and a long-sleeve button-down tunic, printed with fawn spots on the back. He handed them over, and she disappeared into a room down the hall. She was not going to actually strip in front of him. A little disappointing at this point, but good. Call him old-fa
shioned. He wanted her naked all right, but he wanted to earn every bare inch. And after failing to kiss her goodnight Tuesday, he had a long way to go. Not to mention the identity situation.
She reappeared, smile coy under that alluring mask. She wore brown booties that worked well with the tight pants. She held her hands out to her sides and twirled, the silk shirt flowing over her narrow curves. “How do I look?”
“I’d shoot you.” A flash of pleasure hit at the smile his words provoked.
“We shall see how good your aim is, Sir Robin.”
“I’ll be sad when you stop calling me that.”
She slipped her arm into his. “You want the sir to stay? Sir Arty perhaps? Take me to the party, Sir Arty.”
He suddenly didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to risk seeing anyone who would call him Leonard. He wanted it to stay just the two of them, together, flaming this ember that was so fragile and new and full of potential.
When they stepped outside, Tempest’s gaze snapped to the black Aston Martin Vantage gleaming under the streetlamp. “Whoooaaa, Sir Robin. What rich bloke did you steal this from?”
“Leonard Allred.” It just popped out.
She stopped. Her face turned, her eyes unreadable in the shadow of the deer mask.
Figure it out. Don’t figure it out. Do figure it out. Or just shoot me now. “Leo lives where I live. I thought it would only be fair. A little payback for what he cost you. You want to drive it? You want to drive it into a ditch?”
Her jaw slackened. “You’re serious.”
“Not really about the ditch part. I’d be the one paying for that.”
Her face lit up. “Heck yeah, I want to drive it.” She skipped to the driver’s door, and Leo hoped he wouldn’t regret this. She slid into the car, shifting her backside against the fine leather, her fingers caressing the steering wheel. “Oh, that guy has it so good.”
He salivated at the sight of her nearly making love to his car. “Not as good as I do.”
She grinned, a white moon under the animal mask. “Get in, you big charmer. Let’s see what she can do.”
“She can do a lot. So no sudden movements.”
Her grin only grew.
But she made no sudden movements. Despite a tiny bit of speeding, she obeyed every traffic law and avoided coming within ten feet of another vehicle. She kept her hands at ten and two. He chuckled as they pulled in the valet line at the party.
“If you’re laughing because I’m a safe driver, you can get out and walk,” she said. “This car is pretty, but she makes me very nervous.”
“I can relate.” He wasn’t looking at the car; he was looking at her, but she didn’t see.
She walked her fingers over the gear shift. “I can’t believe this is Leonard Allred’s car.”
He hated how she said it, Leonard Allred. The full name every time, the awe and anger. “It’s not a big deal. He’s just a regular guy.”
She pursed her lips but didn’t say anything as she pulled up to the waiting valet.
The young man opened the door. “Welcome, ma’am.”
Leo hurried out his door, coming around the hood to talk to the valet.
“What’s the name?”
“Robin Hood.”
“Very good, sir.” The man handed him a valet tag.
Leo pulled his old-fashioned bow and quiver from the trunk and settled his green felt hat on his head. He’d considered shaving his beard after Tempest’s reaction when they first met, but that felt like giving in too easily. And he was harder to recognize with the low hat and facial hair. She really was on a date with a criminal—on the run from his own identity. He took her hand, her fingers soft against his palm. His pulse rose as they walked the dim path toward the looming mansion. Tell her now before you get to the door. Outside the entrance, a photographer took glamour shots of the guests. Leo steered right past the setup.
“Welcome.” A woman greeted them at the house entrance. “May I take anything? Jacket? Weapons?”
“No, thank you.”
Past the spiral staircases and through the archway, they stepped into a massive ballroom. The silver cast of the lights and the plush velvet draperies made it feel not like Halloween, but like a real vampire lair. Adults wore an array of costumes ranging from Queen Victoria to super heroes to prima ballerinas—which was a tough one to pull off. Candelabras dotted the long dining table spread with food and drinks. A string quartet played in the corner, the music heavy with minor chords and eerie modulations.
“How ghastly,” Tempest said.
“So glad you love it.” He kept his voice as flat as hers.
She turned to him, her face close and her eyes silvery. She winked, and his stomach flipped.
“Something to eat? I can ask about fresh grass or flower petals.”
“I’d like to see that.”
They weaved through the crowd toward the tables.
“Blair!” Tempest called over the pulsing music.
A short woman with a cloud of curly hair turned, her face jolly as an elf. “Stormie!”
He would definitely have to remember that nickname.
Blair finished stacking the last couple of bread twists from her bakery bag and sauntered over. She looked “Stormie” up and down. She turned her friend around. She touched the antlers and ran a hand against Tempest’s suede thigh. He could get some tips in confidence from this woman.
“A-mazing,” Blair said. “All of it.” She turned to Leo and held out a hand. “You’ve already won me over.”
“Well, you’re easy.”
“I’m not that easy.”
His cheeks warmed.
The woman laughed. “I’m Blair.”
“Robin Hood.”
“No shooting in here. I have to help with cleanup.”
He put a hand to his heart and pinched his voice. “Upon my word as an outlaw.”
She frowned. “I don’t think that accent works on you.”
He could only laugh. “You two are a tough crowd.”
“I’m passing out sweet chili fried shrimp in a minute. They are unreal. I’ve already snuck like seven. Come try one.” Blair took Tempest’s hand and pulled her through a side door.
Leo nearly knocked a man in the head with his bow as he tried to follow. The brightness of the serving area was a shock after the party dim. They leaned against the wall, out of the way of the black-and-white-clad workers. Blair brought them red wine and the promised shrimp. Then she brought cheese puffs and smoked sausage bits.
“Don’t forget to tip your server.” Blair took away his empty plastic plate.
“Wha—?”
“I’m kidding…mostly.”
“Thanks for the treats.” Tempest finished off her glass of red.
“I like these chefs.” Blair looked around the kitchen. “Everything has been well done.”
“I’ll come find you again.” Tempest slid toward the door.
Leo held it open, and Blair waltzed out first with a tray of appetizers. She went to the big ballroom. He didn’t follow. He wasn’t ready to run into the hosts or anyone else he knew. So, like a coward, he turned left with Tempest. They found half a dozen more rooms with lounging guests and low light. Leo skipped the one that smelled like a high school gym and the one with the pot smoke and the one with the heavy metal music. Down a set of stairs, he led the way into another large room. The only light came from the lit-up bowling alley, the neon dart boards, glowing bowls of candy and popcorn, and the silvery light strips marking the ground and furniture. Only a few figures dotted the room. Most guest probably hadn’t found this little gem of a spot yet. But Dean had.
Leo shifted, stepping to block Tempest’s view. He could not let them meet. His heart thumped. He whirled to face her. “Let’s try somewhere else.”
She bobbed, trying to see around him. “But this looks cool. Is that bowling?”
He glanced over his shoulder. Dean was heading for the door, straight at them. “It’s kinda ho
t in here. Let’s get some air and then come back.”
She looked at him with a disappointed gaze that made him go still all over. This was it. The end of the relationship. No, it couldn’t end with him being lame on purpose.
His focus dropped to her lips. He took a step forward, fear making him bold. The free hand that wasn’t holding the stupid bow found her silky waist. She gasped, her lips parting slightly as she looked up at him. He took the spark in her eyes as invitation enough and pressed his mouth to hers. His body awoke with a jolt as her soft lips shifted under his. He took another step, their bodies coming flush together. Her hands found his neck. He took another step, forcing her back against the wall. He stifled a groan. The bottom edge of her mask bumped his nose. He considered taking it off. But no, they were in public. He found it hard to remember that with the darkness, with her mouth opening, her tongue tasting of grapes and salt. A wave of heat flared down his body. He gripped her ribs, forcing his hand not to move higher. This was not the place to do this. He pulled away, breath coming fast. Weak light shone off her eyes, dark as night, as she stared up at him. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. He was the prey, caught in her trap. His body was warm and throbbing, screaming for more.
“What do you bet I beat you in a game of bowling?” Her voice was low and husky.
He wanted to kiss her pale throat. “I’ll bet a date. I win, you buy. You win, I buy.”
She pulled a face. “Blair would be so disappointed in that uncreative wager.” Her mouth softened. “But I’m in.”
When he turned, he thought of Dean again, but his assistant/fake identity had left the room. As he stepped up to the narrow lane, he thanked his lucky star for both the save and the sizzling-hot kiss.
Leo won the first game, so Tempest begged for best out of three. She still lost, two games to one.
“Where are you going to take me?” He threw his arm over her shoulder as they left the room. “Somewhere with lobster, I hope.”
“I am unemployed, remember?”
She said it with a teasing tone, but it turned him cold. He did remember. He should have let her win that last game.
But that wouldn’t have solved the real problem here.
****
Tempest was flying high as they climbed the stairs from the bowling alley. She could almost still taste his kiss on her tongue, sweet chili and male. His beard had been so soft, like feathers. She didn’t hate it like she thought she would. After his shyness on Tuesday, the shock of his sudden kiss had melted her middle. He’d been bold, confident. Hungry. No waiting until that awkward moment on the doorstep or until they were half drunk. She felt half drunk now, her veins tingling pleasantly.
