“Jo called you a stranger, but you two know each other. Do you live in town?”
She stared at something invisible in the distance, eyes narrowing slightly. She held her pose in silence as the seconds stretched on. Her lips pursed, forming soundless words. Was she forming a lie? The question didn’t seem complicated to him.
Before she spoke, she turned her head, once again looking into his eyes. “I own a house a few streets over and have commitment to stay here through the end of the year. But I travel a lot for work so I’m here, but not here.”
“What keeps you on the road?”
“Museum work. I repair older exhibits and give them a fresh coat of paint. More restoration than art. I’ve been in Chicago since February. I am so glad to get out of there before another winter. The wind downtown cuts right to the bone. The weather got better, and the food was sooooo good, but I missed firefly season here.”
His expression must have given away his inner confusion because she smiled, a broad smile that reached to her eyes. “Summer. You ever collect lightning bugs in a jar, City Boy?”
“Is that an insult?”
“Only if you want it to be. Now answer the question, City Boy.”
“No.” Once he and Danny stayed at a friend’s house or maybe it was a camp when they were maybe six or seven. He couldn’t remember the details, but that was the first time he’d seen lightning bugs. They competed to see who could hit the most glowing home runs with a baseball bat.
“You had a deprived childhood.” She didn’t know the half of it, but there was no point in responding, especially when she continued speaking. “If you’re still here in the summer, you’ll have to try. I’m sure the kids running around your yard can teach you. Maybe I’ll even drop off a bug jar for you.”
She bumped her shoulder against his. The welcome comradery quickened his heart rate. Even if she didn’t want to screw around, at least he’d have someone to talk with. Maybe she’d watch football or basketball with him. That’d be nice. “You need special equipment to catch bugs?”
“Sure. If the fireflies can’t get air, they’ll die.”
He nodded, because it seemed the right thing to do, but the conversation hit a dead end. Thinking was hard with her sitting so close, her thigh practically touching his as her hair sparkled under the porch light. “Excuse me. There’s something I have to do.”
She set the glass on the porch and moved her arms behind her, as if preparing to leave. “Sorry to have taken up so much of your time.”
“Wait!” He grabbed her arm, to prevent her from standing. Her eyes widened, whether from fear or because she sensed his desire, he couldn’t tell. “You have a spider web in your hair.”
“Oh.” She eased back. His fingers slid along her soft, pale skin as she moved her arm away. “Which side?”
“I’ll get it.”
His gaze locked with hers. Her eyes issued a subtle invitation he could not ignore.
HER FOCUS SHIFTED ENTIRELY to him. Why fight it anymore? She had babbled, hesitating to tell him what brought her here for fear once she did, he’d show her the proverbial door and leave her to imaginary conversations with ghosts and a one way ticket to replacing Miss Jones as the resident loon. If she left, she’d have no reason to enjoy that earthy, slightly exotic scent he possessed. She bet he used sandalwood shampoo or soap, or both. She remembered him from the diner, his masculine nose, so Roman, and clean fingernails. Strangers stood out in Belkin, especially men of a datable age range. She hadn’t realized over the scent of frying bacon and buttery hash browns how pleasant he smelled. Any man that didn’t smell of turpentine, glue, or the tools of the trade was a welcome improvement.
The golden brown of his eyes retreated as his pupils dilated. It had been a long time since she’d seen it this close, but she recognized lust when she saw it. Her breathing grew slower and deeper as the seconds stretched into eternity. Maybe she wouldn’t have to be so alone after all. She might not be able to escape destiny forever, but a little short-term companionship was a great diversion.
His fingers slipped down her bare forearms. Before she could lament the loss of his touch, his palm pressed against her hair and smoothed it until he reached the end of her ponytail. Her lips parted. A cool stream of air drew into her lungs. Although his gaze never left hers, he must have noticed the invitation.
Wrapping his arm around her back, he closed the distance between them, crashing his strong lips against hers. His tongue probed her lips with a gentleness that belied the urgency she tasted on him. She invited him in with her tongue, relishing the heat of his mouth against hers.
She had no idea if she arched into him or if he had leaned against her first. All she knew was their bodies sprawled across the steps and against each other in as many places as possible—legs, hips, chests, and lips. Even with the fabric between them, she could tell he hid rock hard muscles underneath his shirt. Her nipples puckered against her plain cotton bra, the buds swelling with each rise and fall of his chest against hers.
His arm wrapped around her, holding her securely. He wouldn’t let her bump her head against the banister or otherwise come to harm. Danger and safety merged as eagerly as
