Ain’t Misbehaving

fall, you’ve got a cushion. Me. So it’s ladies first. I won’t look.”

Which was fine, only she hadn’t taken ten steps up before he remarked on her terrific legs, the stinker. Actually, from his position Kay knew he couldn’t really see her legs. From the instant she’d lied about her acrophobia, he’d flanked her every move. His long arms stretched above hers and he made mischievously sure his body was surrounding her with every step. No wonder she was dizzy. It had nothing to do with soaring above the trees…but those steps did keep coming.

She glanced back to look at him. His grin was wicked, his eyes were dancing and his cheeks were ruddy. She had a feeling he hadn’t done anything quite so crazy in years, which was enough of an incentive to drive her up the rest of the way. So her heart was beating in her throat and the vertigo was making her head spin. So?

“So this is your fire tower,” she breathed at the last step.

“Honey, stop clutching the ladder like a lifeline,” he said mildly. “Just step up onto the platform. Honestly, you’ll be safe.”

“It doesn’t have sides,” she observed.

“There are at least eight square feet of solid floor up there, and I’ll be your sides.” His palm, most possessively, patted her rear end encouragingly.

She crawled up onto the platform, pride never having been her strong point. The view, truthfully, was spectacular. Misted mountains climbed to the north and west, with a sterling-silver ball of a moon just rising over them. Beyond the woods, rolling wheat fields sprawled to the south and east, like a blanket stretched out in soft velvet folds. The stars were out, even though it wasn’t pitch-dark yet, and they were so close she felt she could touch them. As it happened, all she wanted to do was grab Mitch’s jacket.

Her fingers clutched, and she heard his soft chuckle. “We can go right back down, you little liar. If I’d had any idea you were this scared of heights-”

“I’m not,” she insisted, and added demurely, “Where exactly is that wine we were carrying? I could use some Dutch courage.”

“Coming. I zipped the bottle up inside my jacket.” Without releasing his firm grip on her wrist, Mitch sat in the center of the wooden floor, tugging Kay into the space between his thighs. She didn’t argue. With both arms around her, he managed to wrestle the wine from the bag and to get the cork out with a pocketknife corkscrew.

“You’re a regular Boy Scout,” she remarked.

“You can stop shaking anytime. There is no possible way I would let you fall.”

Ignorant man. She was terrified of falling, but for the moment she was tingling simply from the feel of his thighs tucked around hers. His body was big, powerfully constructed and unbelievably warm. That heat was in direct contrast to the coolness of his wind-chilled cheek as he leaned forward to pour the Beaujolais into two plastic cups.

Kay relaxed, feeling tucked up and enfolded like a gift-wrapped present. His touch was casual, meant to warm and reassure, not to turn her on. It was delightful to meet a man who didn’t spend all his time negotiating his way into bed. He actually showed old-fashioned symptoms of feeling pleasure just at being with her, no strings attached.

Relaxed or not, Kay felt as though all the blood had drained from her head and settled lower…somewhere near where his thighs touched hers. Wanton fantasies were singing in her bloodstream, and the lyrics were “You’d be so nice to come home to…” She accepted a cup of wine with laudable calm. “You’ve been here before?” she questioned.

“As a kid. It obviously hasn’t been used in ages, but fifteen years ago the tower was always manned during dry summers. In fall and winter, it was deserted, making a terrific place to go just to…think.”

“Nonsense.” She took a sip of wine, loving the feel of the warm liquid soothing her throat.

“Pardon?”

“Don’t give me that ‘think’ stuff. You were a teenager when you came here. So you had a girl with you. And that’s why you came here. For the privacy.”

There was silence behind her, and then his palm brushed her hair to one side. Very straight, very white teeth took an unexpected but gentle nip out of the nape of her neck. “Nancy White,” he murmured.

“Ah-ha!” Kay said triumphantly.

“Her father was a minister. Nancy was so darned willing…and her father was so darned mean,” Mitch said morosely. “Darned near got me kicked out of school.”

“How old did you say you were?”

“Fifteen.”

“And you never got past first base?”

“Second,” he corrected immediately.

Kay chuckled.

“I didn’t always come here with a girl,” he insisted. His voice turned quiet, pensive. “It was one of the few private places I knew.”

“And beautiful,” she said softly. With her head resting in the curve of his shoulder, she was perfectly content. “I love it, Mitch. This is a thousand times better than going out for a drink and dinner.”

“Pardon?”

“Come on, Mitch. We’re both of an age. Just being with someone is the best way to get acquainted. The traditional date is a terrible way to get to know someone. It’s always the same old thing. You dress up and act stiff and talk about what school you went to and whether you like shellfish.”

Mitch choked on a swallow of wine.

Kay grinned. “Don’t you agree with me? The man’s always had it the hardest. Getting up the courage to ask for a date, then laying out the cash for a meal and wine, and finally having to worry about timing the first kiss. Unless you’ve been happily attached for a long time, you have to be sick of that routine. Admit it.”

She tilted her head back and caught a peculiar expression on Mitch’s face. “It can get boring,” he agreed.

“And how can a fire tower ever be boring?” she added contentedly.

“Particularly when the lady plans to stay up here for the next four years rather than risk the climb down.”

“Let’s not get sarcastic.”

He chuckled, and Kay loved the sound. Mitch sent her protective messages, whether he knew it or not. Never mind that at times he could suddenly turn reserved, and never mind that his lightest touch sent exciting ideas tumbling through her head. He sent out definite vibrations that told her just being with her was precious to him, and not that his sole interest was in bedding her.

“Do you have to be back at a certain time?” he asked.

“Not till nine-thirty. Poker,” she murmured irritably.

“Poker,” he echoed.

“The guys come over to play poker most Friday nights. Usually, they like five at the table, particularly when one of the group remembers to buy napkins and potato chips. As in the sole feminine participant. Me.”

“You like the game.”

“Generally, I beat the pants off them,” she admitted.

“And just who are…the guys?”

He folded his arms around her ribs and she snuggled back, setting down her wine, aware of his slight stiffening but assuming it was due to his change of position.

“Stix is one. He’s sort of a big brother-my first date way back when, but that never went far. He’s called Stix because he’s tall and skinny.”

“I guessed that.”

“John works for the health department.”

“You also dated him.”

She shrugged. “For a few months. Actually, Barker…”

Mitch didn’t want to know. She was comfortable with men; he already knew that. She was comfortable talking about sex; he already knew that, too. And undoubtedly she ended her affairs amicably, because she would have started them with honesty and terminated them that way as well. That was fine. Commendable.

But he had a sudden image of her, flushed with laughter, her hair disheveled and her lips parted, surrounded by a houseful of men who’d known her far too well…

“Hey,” she murmured.