Spring fancy

Yes, she probably was right. And if so, he had no business upsetting the equilibrium between herself and Hildebrandt.

He drew a deep breath, jammed his hands into his trouser pockets and stepped back.

'So…' he said, pulling in a jerky sigh.

Silence hovered between them.

'So,' she repeated.

The air seemed detonated by repressed sexuality. 'So, I suppose you don't want to dance with me anymore, either?'

'I always want to dance. Shall we go back and join the others? I think we'll be safe enough inside now. And anyway, there's only about half an hour of music left, then we'll politely say goodbye and exit from each other's lives, as if today and tonight never happened. And in the meantime we'll only talk about nice safe subjects again. Agreed?'

He said nothing for a long time, then finally squared his shoulders and answered, 'You're right. That's wisest. Should I apologize for what I just did? I don't want to.'

'No, Joseph, no apology is necessary. You see-' she chuckled softly and perhaps a trifle sadly '-you're my spring fancy, too.'

Then she turned, and her high heels sounded on the hollow floor as she crossed to the steps. He frowned, wishing she hadn't been so sensible. Then he checked his watch to find it was twelve-forty. He had only twenty minutes to come up with a reasonable excuse to keep her with him a little longer after the dance broke up.

Chapter 5

T hey returned to the dance floor, conscious of the fleeting minutes and wishing they had more of them. When the first song ended, Joseph turned from her, and she saw a slash of light gray angling across the back of his jacket.

'Joseph, you're marked.'

Quickly he turned to face her. 'I'm what?'

'Turn around again. Your jacket is dirty from the floor of the gazebo.' He presented his broad back, and as she brushed it free of evidence, she wondered what his shoulders looked like inside the clothing. She was too aware of how hard his muscles were, of how trim his contours, especially down his lower half. He looked back over his shoulder and grinned.

'I could get used to this if you'd let me.'

She stopped brushing, hand hanging in midair as he turned slowly to face her again, and she stared at the appendage as if wondering whose hand it was. Then she clutched it to her stomach.

'Safe subjects… remember?' she reminded him just as the music began again.

'Pick one,' he ordered, reverting to a waltz position with six inches of space dividing their bellies.

She grabbed the first passing thought. 'Where did you take the bride?'

'Out to Daytona.'

'You mean the Daytona Club?'

'Yes.'

'Why ever did you pick a place like that?'

'Because I'm a member, and it's a twenty-minute ride, and we had to keep her away an hour, anyway. So we went out there and had a drink.'

'You're a member?' she asked, surprised.

'Yes.'

'What do you play?'

'Tennis, racket ball, golf. Nearly everything. I like to keep in shape.'

Her eyes grew round and glittery. 'I do, too!'

'I could tell that from the condition of your muscles. You're as hard and smooth as a watermelon.'

'So are you. What's your favorite?'

'Depends on the season. In the summer I like tennis because it's more active than golf. I play baseball, too, with my brothers. In the winter I do some jogging and play quite a bit of racket ball, again with my brothers.

'So do I-oh, not with my brothers, of course. I don't have any brothers. But Sandy and I play racket ball, or we used to, but I suppose that may change now that she's married. She and Mick will probably do that together from now on.'

'What about old Hildegard? Doesn't he play with you?'

Was there a sexy glint in his eye, a note of sexual innuendo in the question? If so, she chose to ignore it.

'Occasionally. But he doesn't care for physical things. He likes to be neat and fragrant and unsweaty. He's a brain man. I'm a body woman.'

Joseph Duggan's eyes made a tour of her face. He lingered longest upon her lips, then nestled her securely against his sturdy frame. Into her ear he said, 'So tell me… what else don't you and the computer man have in common besides physical activity and the wonders of silicon chips?'

'Not much else. Only our taste in clothing.'

'What?' He backed up and looked down at her breasts, then up at her hair. 'What could he possibly not like about your taste in clothing?'

'Oh, I hardly ever dress like this, in all these feminine things. That's his main complaint. I'm active. I like sweat suits and blue jeans and tennis shoes and headbands. He says clothes make the man-or the person, rather. There are times when we get ready to go out, and I know he's disappointed when I show up in jeans and cowboy boots. I'm trying to get used to dressing in cuter things.'

'Why should you?'

His question stunned her. It was the first time she'd bothered to probe the issue. She'd always felt it was a shortcoming in her, as a woman, that she preferred boyish clothes. Her mother had never failed to chide her for dressing like a tomboy.

'But, even you said you liked the way I'm dressed today.'

'I love the way you're dressed today. But I'll bet you're sexy as hell in a pair of jogging shorts and running shoes with your ankles bare and your hair bouncing around free.' His eyes lifted to it momentarily, then slid down again.

'When you say things like that, it makes me want to jump into my sweats and take a fast sprint around a blacktop track. That's the real me, not the one in this hairdo and merry-widow bra.'

'Then let's do it.'

'What?'

He dropped his arms from her waist and checked his watch. 'It's only five to one. That's early. There's got to be someplace in this city where we can find an empty jogging track that's got at least one streetlight shining on it. Let's go and burn it up. Whaddya say?'

'Are you serious?'

'Dead serious. I've been wracking my brain, trying to come up with some ingenious suggestion for something we can do together. It's almost time to call it a night here, and I find I haven't had my fill of you yet. I want to be with you a little longer. Can you think of anything safer for the two of us to do than jogging?'

She couldn't. A smile touched her lips, then lighted her eyes, and he thought he'd never seen a woman more beautiful. The hair at her right temple was roughened and pulled askew. Once again her lipstick was gone. But she had a beauty that surpassed superficiality. He wondered what she'd look like right after a shower, when all artifice was gone from her face and hair.

'You'd have to stop by my place so I can pick up some sweats.'

'And then you'd have to stop by mine so I can pick up some, too.'

The night suddenly sparkled with adventure. She didn't have to say goodbye to him yet! 'Let's.' She smiled impishly.