In the Midnight Hour

by Kimberly Raye

  But then, Val wasn’t a man.

  Her lips parted and she leaned in. If he wouldn’t kiss her, she would just have to kiss him—

  Another fierce knock and the moment shattered.

  “I really need you,” Suzanne called out.

  “I’ll be right back,” Ronnie told Val. “Don’t go away.”

  Ronnie cracked open the door to find Suzanne, the twins, and Suzanne’s date for the evening, a lawyer with a Mercedes, to quote her neighbor.

  “My sitter canceled,” Suzanne said, shoving one of the twins into Ronnie’s arms as she pushed inside the apartment without waiting for an invitation. “Reggie here has theater tickets.”

  “It’s twelve-thirty at night.”

  “It was a midnight show. Midnight in Manhattan. Get it? Anyhow, we’ve missed the performance, but Reggie’s boss is hosting an after-premier party that we can just about make if you’ll agree to watch the kids for an hour. I’ll pay double and I brought videos and the kids adore you—”

  “I was really busy.” Ronnie hefted a fidgeting Brandy to one hip. “Really busy.”

  She saw Suzanne’s gaze dart around the apartment, to the now empty spot where Val had been standing, so very close to kissing her.

  Kissing her.

  A wave of regret rolled through her, steeling her determination not to be suckered in as a midnight baby-sitter. No. No way. No can do. No matter how Brandy was hugging her and giving tiny fish kisses to her neck.

  “You know how much the kids adore you.”

  “But I’m working on a research project.”

  Suzanne’s worried expression faded into a smile. “And here I thought you meant busy busy. The kids will be little angels while you study. Right, baby?” she asked Randy, who nodded fervently as Suzanne dropped him onto the sofa.

  “Ann-gels,” Brandy declared, obviously through making fishy lips. She squirmed and slid from Ronnie’s grasp to follow her brother.

  “I have to get up really early. I have to be at the library by seven.”

  “The kids will be asleep before you can count to ten.”

  “But …”

  “But?” Suzanne’s desperate gaze collided with Ronnie’s.

  “An hour, you said?” There went a continuation of tonight’s lesson.

  “Two hours tops.” Suzanne handed her a piece of paper. “Here’s the phone number where we’ll be, but don’t call unless it’s life or death.” She kissed the twins and gave Ronnie a bright smile. “I owe you for this. You’re divine.”

  “More like stupid,” Ronnie grumbled as she collapsed on the sofa between Randy and Brandy as they argued over what video to watch.

  “Sweeping Bwooty,” Brandy declared.

  “Hairclees,” Randy said, pointing to the Hercules video.

  “What do you say we take turns?” Ronnie’s question met with tears from Brandy and a kick from Randy. “Turns it is,” Ronnie declared.

  They would watch a little TV, the twins would fall asleep, and Ronnie could get back to Val, wherever he was.

  Her gaze scanned the apartment more than once, and although she couldn’t see him, she felt him. Nearby. Watching.

  It was both highly unsettling and extremely erotic, despite the huge, ugly brown housedress she was wearing. She felt every movement of her body beneath, the press of her skin against the coarse material, the rasp of fabric against her sensitized flesh—

  She forced the thoughts away, turned to the kids, and slipped into her babysitter mode.

  Ronnie counted to ten as they started watching Sleeping Beauty. She hit the thousands halfway through the movie, and gave up altogether by the time the credits started to roll and the kids started begging for more popcorn.

  “Nobody move,” she ordered as she unfolded herself from a tangle of chubby arms and legs and went to refill the popcorn bowl.

  She left the kids with their eyes glued to the next movie while she rummaged for another package of microwave popcorn. She’d just popped the bag into the microwave and punched the button when she turned and saw Val leaning so casually against her kitchen cabinets.

  “You like kids,” A grin tugged at his lips as if the knowledge pleased him.

  “Usually, but at the moment, I’m not so sure,” she muttered under her breath. “They’ve got rotten timing.”

  He grinned. “I’d say they had perfect timing. You were about to toss the lesson plan aside. The kiss doesn’t come until after we’ve mastered the first ten steps.”

  “Then you’ll kiss me?”

  His grin disappeared. “No.” He shook his head. “I can’t, Veronique.”

  “Because you hate virgins.”

  “Actually, I admire them, but that’s beside the point. There are certain rules I must abide by, or face the consequences. While I might want a taste of your sweet lips, I will not indulge.” Because Valentine Tremaine feared it wouldn’t stop at one kiss. She was too tempting as it was, even in that godawful brown dress, and he’d barely touched her.

  Kissing would lead to more touching and then …

  Val would find himself making the same mistake all over again, and the price for such a thing was much too high. He’d paid with his life so long ago.

  This time, Valentine Tremaine would pay with his soul.

  He gathered his determination and fought back a wave of erotic images. “I’m not kissing you,” he stated. “I am not.” Then he turned and faded into the shadows, her voice following him.

  “We’ll see about that.”

  “Hello. This is Veronica Parrish. I’m busy right now, but if you’ll leave a name and phone number, I’ll get back with you shortly.” Beeeeeeeeeeep.

  “Hell’s bells, even your message is boring.” Jenny’s voice carried over the speaker and Ronnie snatched up the phone.

  “Hey, Jen. What’s up?”

  “Can’t you spice up the recording a little? Maybe use some background music or some snappy dialogue, or make your voice sound the tiniest bit intriguing?”

  “It’s just a message.”

  “That mirrors you. Busy, no-nonsense, workaholic, sex-deprived you.”

  “Is there a point to this call, or are you just trying to remind me of how full and meaningful my life is?”

  “You’re hopeless, and speaking of hopeless, I simply can’t make it to Lafayette for our lunch date this Saturday. Matt has a softball game he can’t miss and my mom’s too busy to watch the girls and a two-hour road trip with them would have me throwing myself from the car before we even got there.”

  “Geez, Jenny, you make domestic bliss sound like sheer heaven.”

  “It has its high points, but traveling with two toddlers isn’t one of them.”

  “I’ll remember that when my turn comes.”

  “You’ll be old and senile by the time that happens.”

  “Don’t say it.”

  “Say what?”

  “That I need to get a life.”

  “A love life,” Jenny corrected.

  “I’m trying.”

  Ronnie couldn’t miss Jenny’s sharp intake of breath. “As in you’ve met someone?” Her excitement crackled over the wire.

  No. Just tell her no and end it here. “Sort of.” Hey, what happened to no? She was too worked up over last night, over her near kiss with Val, and she had to share her excitement with someone.

  “Either you did or you didn’t,” Jenny said.

  “I sort of did.”

  “You’re killing me, here.”

  “He’s just not your average guy.”

  “This is good.”

  Actually, it was great, but Ronnie refrained from blurting that fact out. As anxious as Jenny was for Ronnie to go for the gusto, she wouldn’t be too keen to know the gusto consisted of a ghost, albeit a hunky one.

  “So what about lunch?” Ronnie asked, determined to turn the subject onto something else, before Jenny asked any more questions Ronnie couldn’t answer.

  “I was hoping you could drive out
here.”

  “I can’t. Why don’t we postpone it until next weekend. Can you drive out then?”

  “That’ll work. So when do I get to meet this guy?” So much for changing the subject. “Can you bring him to lunch with us?”

  Only if we meet between midnight and three a.m., Ronnie thought to herself. “Actually, he doesn’t get out much. I doubt he’d enjoy it.”

  “We’ll have Italian. He’ll love it.”

  “He’s allergic to tomatoes.”

  “Mexican.”

  “Can’t handle the smell of jalapeños.”

  “Cajun.”

  “Breaks out if he even gets a whiff of cayenne pepper.”

  “Greek.”

  “Olive oil gives him hives.”

  “I’ll brown-bag tuna sandwiches and we’ll meet at your place. No, don’t tell me. He’s allergic to paper bags.”

  “Tuna.”

  “Sounds like you don’t want me to meet him.” When Ronnie started to protest, Jenny cut in, “Look, if you’re not totally comfortable with the situation yet, I can wait. I’m just glad you’re seeing someone.”

  “Thanks, Jenny. Talk to you later.”

  “What happened to you?” Danny asked her when she met him on the front stoop a few minutes later for their morning walk to class.

  “I got held up. Jenny called.”

  “Did she have good news?”

  “Just that she can’t make it for lunch on Saturday, which is for the best since I’m really busy anyway.” She caught Danny’s curious gaze. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Something’s up. Don’t tell me. You aced the tax test on Friday.”

  “How would I know that? I haven’t been to class yet.”

  “You took Guidry hostage yesterday and threatened all sorts of vile means of torture until he changed your paper topic.”

  “As appealing as that sounds, no. But I have got quite a way with a vegetable peeler. Maybe I’ll pay him a visit tonight.”

  “Well, something happened, because you look … different.” He gave her a once-over. “Did you change your hair?”

  She fingered her usual ponytail and shook her head. “I washed it, but I do that every morning.”

  “You’re wearing makeup.”

  “Yesterday’s remains. I woke up late again.”

  He shook his head and studied her. “I don’t know what it is, but you look … I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Content. Happy.”

  Sexy. The deep, seductive voice whispered through her head.

  Veronica Parrish? Sexy?

  Well, things had taken a turn for the bizarre. She had a haunted bed. A Casanova of a ghost. Madame X was on the job, as far as Guidry’s paper was concerned. Anything was possible.

  She smiled. “Actually I feel sort of happy.” She drank in a deep breath. “It’s a beautiful morning, don’t you think?” She stepped onto the sidewalk and started down the street.

  “Uh, yeah.” Danny followed her. “It’s great if you go for that sort of thing.” He stifled a yawn. “I’m more of a night person myself.”

  “Wanda keep you up late?”

  “In more ways than one.”

  She laughed and hooked her arm through his. “Why don’t you just tell her how you feel?”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  She yanked his arm and brought him to a halt.

  “What are you doing?” he asked as she brought him around to face her.

  “A little experiment. Now close your eyes.” At his stubborn expression, she added. “Trust me, all right?”

  His eyelids drifted shut. “Now what?”

  “Now think of your favorite fantasy.”

  “What?”

  “I know it sounds hokey, but do it anyway.” She studied his face. “And nothing that involves a job with some big engineering company.” His eyes snapped open and she grinned. “I know because my fantasies usually run along the same line. I’m talking lustful fantasies.”

  Danny did as instructed and Ronnie watched as pleasure chased disbelief across his features.

  “Have you got one in mind?” He nodded.

  “Now take a deep, deep breath and tell me what you smell.”

  He smiled. “Wanda.”

  “If this is going to work, you have to be a little more specific. You have to really be in the moment, tuned in to everything. Now take a deep breath and give me details.”

  His nostrils flared. “Peach-scented body wash. Peach shampoo. She likes peaches.”

  “Good. Now what do you feel?”

  He grinned. “Wanda.” The expression faded as he seemed to search for more. “The heat of her body because she’s so close, sitting next to me. The soft silk of her hair on my bare arm as she leans forward to look at the textbook.”

  “Your favorite fantasy is of the two of you studying? Geez, Danny, you’ve got to get a little more creative.”

  “Hey.” He frowned. “It’s my fantasy, all right? Besides, we move on to more than studying. That’s just how it starts.”

  “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. Don’t lose the image.” She studied his face to make sure his eyes were still closed before rummaging in her book bag. “The two of you are studying, you smell her, feel her…” Her voice lowered a notch as she found what she was looking for and asked him, “Now tell me, what do you want?”

  “Wanda,” he said, the name little more than a throaty growl.

  Ronnie held up the compact mirror and said, “Okay. Now open your eyes.”

  He did, and stared at his reflection, at the desire gleaming hot and bright in his eyes.

  “It is that easy,” she told him. “You’re just as desirable as the next guy. I see it and I guarantee she’ll see it. Just tell her.”

  “Easy,” Danny told himself as he paced in front of the campus pizza parlor and tried to work up his nerve to go inside, where Wanda Deluca sat having lunch with several other cheerleaders and a couple of football jocks. His hand went to the doorknob and he faltered.

  He really should wait until after lunch. Bothering somebody right in the middle of eating could disrupt their digestion and cause heartburn. He’d hate to cause her any discomfort. Besides, she was busy with her friends—

  Balls, Boudreaux. You’ve got ’em, don’t you? So get on in there and use ’em.

  He closed his eyes, summoning the fantasy, the smell and feel and heat of the moment. “Easy,” he reminded himself as he summoned his courage and yanked open the swinging door.

  “Wanda,” he said when he reached her table.

  Green eyes shifted to meet his. Long blonde hair brushed the shoulders of her white USL T-shirt. Peach-tinted lips parted in a smile and his confidence level shifted a notch higher.

  “Hi, Danny. I was just thinking about you.”

  “You were?”

  “Mel Gibson’s on Letterman tonight, so I have to see the entire show. I should be done by midnight. Then I can come over.”

  Oh.

  He became acutely aware of a dozen interested eyes zeroed in on him.

  “That’s all right, isn’t it?” she asked.

  No. “Yeah, sure.” He shifted from one foot to the other. “Listen, could I talk to you for a sec?”

  “Sure.” She excused herself and followed him to the rear of the place, by the jukebox, two video games, and the pay phone.

  “Listen, Wanda.” He leaned one elbow on a video game, his body effectively blocking her escape. “I need to tell you something.”

  “Yes?”

  “You, see, I… That is, I want…” His mouth went suddenly dry as her scent filled his nostrils. She was so close, inches away as she leaned in to hear what he had to say. Peaches assaulted his senses and his nostrils flared.

  “Yes?” she prompted, drawing him back from a sudden, sharp image of her naked, rubbing a wedge of peach over her pale skin.

  “Well,” he cleared his suddenly dry throat. “I, um, want you…”

  “You want me …?�
� she prompted, eyes wide, expectant.

  “I want you…” Naked and panting. Over me, under me, surrounding me.

  A bead of sweat slid from his temple and he quickly dashed it away.

  “I, uh, want you…” Just say it. “To pass,” he blurted. “I—I really want you to pass tomorrow’s chem test.”

  Loser!

  “Thanks, Danny.” Her smile widened and his gaze hooked on her mouth, on the fullness of her lips.

  Man-o-man, she had the greatest lips. Another image straight out of one of his more graphic fantasies pushed into his head, of those full lips sucking at a ripe peach. His blood rushed faster, his heart pounded forward like a runaway train.

  “You know, nobody’s ever cared about my grades before,” she went on, the sudden softness to her voice dispelling the erotic image. “All my mama ever cared about was whether or not I had on enough eye makeup. You never know when you’ll meet Mr. Right, she always said. Gotta look your best.” At his questioning gaze, she added, “My mom did some modeling when she was young and sort of fell into the habit of relying on her looks to get her what she wanted out of life. First a job in Paris. Then my dad. Then three other husbands, all since moved on to prettier, younger women. But I guess you don’t need to hear all this.”

  “No, I want to.”

  “Hey, Wanda!” The shout came from a redhead sitting at the table. “We’re heading out. You coming?”

  “If you haven’t eaten, maybe we could get a bite togeth—” he started, clamping his mouth together when she shouted out, “I’ll be there in a sec!” to the redhead.

  Her gaze went back to Danny. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  You. Me. Now. Together.

  He couldn’t quite spit the words out. “That I really need to eat.”

  “Try the pepperoni,” she advised. “And thanks for caring. I’ll see you tonight. Oh, and don’t forget that I’ll be late. I can’t miss Mel.”

  “Yeah, see ya.”

  “Is there anything else?” she asked when he made no move to let her pass.

  “Uh, no,” he stammered out. “I guess that about covers it. Um, it’s awful hot out. Make sure you drink plenty of liquids during practice so you don’t dehydrate.”