She swallowed hard and squinted at me. “You love me?” she whispered back, incredulous. “No, you don’t.”
“Oui, I do,” I countered. “Somehow, you just snuck into my heart and kind of took it over. I’m not going anywhere so, seriously, you’re stuck with me.”
I wasn’t sure if this statement worried her more than elated her, but she bit her lip and stared at me for a long time, contemplating.
“I mean it,” I said, refusing to start dancing again until she believed me on this.
Finally, she nodded. “Shar said you were like that.”
It was my turn to stare in shock at her. “Shar said?”
“Yeah. I had a long talk with her about you yesterday.” She blushed, and I could only guess at the way that conversation must have gone.
My concern must have shown because Vicky shook her head and said, “Don’t worry. It was all good.”
“Let me just make sure I understand this. You told my sister about us? I thought you didn’t want her to know that we—”
“I didn’t tell her everything, Blake. But, yes. She knows a lot about our relationship now. I had to talk to somebody who cares about you as much as I do. I hope you don’t mind that I—”
I kissed her.
Right there in the middle of the high-school gym. With teens and teachers and parents watching. I didn’t care who saw us.
And Vicky kissed me back. A promise, I hoped, of what was yet to come.
When we broke apart, I was vaguely aware of a bunch of people clapping and pointing at us, of Glass Tiger singing “I Will Be There,” as the last set of the Eighties music was winding down, and of Vicky looking at me with a dazed expression on her beautiful face. We both had professional tasks to attend to before the night was over, but I wanted to be sure she knew I didn’t intend to go home tonight without her.
“I have to load up the van and return the equipment to the station,” I warned her.
“And I have to help the committee with the clean up and lock the gym once everyone is gone,” she said.
“Meet at my place afterward?” I suggested.
“We’ll see,” she replied noncommittally. But she added a saucy wink that left me feeling hopeful.
I let Matt give the final announcement of the night. “For the last song,” he said exuberantly into the mic, “here’s something fast and fun to send you home!” The opening strains of Modern English’s “I Melt with You” began to play and the energy level in the gym, which was already high, shot to the ceiling.
I thanked Matt again for his help and sent him on his way. Without even any additional encouragement from me, I saw him seek out Stephanie and spend the last dance bopping around the room with her, both of them laughing as their retro night came to an end.
After the goodbyes were said to the crowd and the lights were turned back on, the clearing out/cleaning up process began. It was nearly one a.m. before the last of the students and chaperones trudged home. My equipment was already stashed in the van, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave until I knew for sure what Vicky was going to do next.
She came up to me, keys jangling. There were just the two of us left. “I just locked the gym doors,” she announced.
“With us still inside?”
“Yes.” And she pressed a finger to my chest and pushed me backward, with no effort at all on her part, until I was up against one of the gym’s padded walls. “Kiss me,” she demanded.
I wanted to do far, far more than that, but I complied at once. After running my tongue along her bottom lip, I sucked on it and then drew her into me. I stroked her legs through the fabric before finally lifting the hem of her dress and skimming my fingertips against the smooth skin of her thighs. When I reached her panties, I hooked my thumbs on the elastic and was about to pull them down, but an unexpected bolt of commonsense shot through me.
“If we get caught, you’ll be fired,” I felt compelled to mention.
“That’s right.” She playfully tugged at my belt. “So, we can’t get caught.”
I chuckled. I had to be crazy about this woman or I would never had said the words I heard coming out of my mouth. “But I don’t want to be the one responsible for you losing your job. We should at least get off school property, don’t you think?”
She sighed, but then looked at me speculatively. “Well, I do have this fantasy of us at the radio station,” she began. “In your booth...”
I groaned. Desire was addling my brain. I could picture us in my booth. So. Damn. Clearly. Hell, I’d pictured it many times before. In considerable detail.
But this thing with Vicky wasn’t a fling, and it would be an inauspicious start to our relationship if I were to get busted as well. I told her this.
She nodded, taking it in, while all the time still pressing against me and touching me and, essentially, driving me insane with longing. I could barely breathe from the enticing scent of her. From wanting her so much.
“Then it’s going to have to be the van,” she concluded.
“The radio station van?”
“Is there another one that I don’t know about?”
Swear to God, this woman was going to be the death of me. “Vicky, you have no idea how turned on I am by these suggestions of yours,” I ground out. “But the van is a very cramped space. There’s a bunch of sound equipment already in there. The floor is dirty, hard, cold. You deserve—”
“—to do something a little less safe for a change,” she finished for me, which was not the way I would have ended that sentence. But, hey, I could only resist for so long. Especially when she added, “I’ve got a thick blanket in the trunk of my car that we could spread out on the floor. And aren’t the back windows of the van tinted?” She grinned wickedly. “We can park somewhere deserted. Turn on the music, maybe. I’m sure you’ve got AC/DC’s ‘You Shook Me All Night Long’ on a playlist somewhere in that van, right?”
“I see you’ve put some thought into this scenario, haven’t you?” I said, completely unable to disguise my awe and willingness to go along with every single proposal she had.
“I have,” she admitted. “And I think it’s going to play out exactly as I’ve imagined.” She paused. “But even if it doesn’t, I don’t care. I’m in this for a lot longer than tonight. Because...I’ve been falling in love with you, too, Blake, and I want us to give this a real chance of working.”
I didn’t think it was possible to feel happier than I already was, and I didn’t bother to try to dissuade her from the van idea. We could make it work. The woman knew what she wanted, and I was going to give it to her. With pleasure.
“Okay,” I said decisively. “It’s a plan. But fair is fair. We’ll say it’s lady’s choice tonight, but I get to choose next.”
She looked intrigued. “You have something raunchy in mind?”
“Something a little more surprising than that, Mademoiselle,” I confessed, but I wouldn’t tell her what it was.
Instead, I kissed her again and, as I let her lead me out of the gym, I thought to myself, Something romantic.
Chapter Fourteen
~Blake~
After the couple of hours we’d spent in the van (which we’d parked in the darkest corner of the Eastman Field parking lot), I knew I’d never be able to drive that vehicle anywhere ever again without remembering Homecoming night and grinning like a fool.
The hours that followed were kind of fuzzy, just because I was so damn exhausted. But it was a very good kind of exhausted. All I knew for sure was that I didn’t want to part with Vicky, not even for a few hours. So, she helped me return the equipment to the radio station (finally), and then she came over to my apartment.
Winston perked up when he saw her. What could I say? My mutt had good taste. We took him out for a quick walk and then all three of us crashed on my bed for the night.
Hours later, over scrambled eggs and coffee, I said, “So, I’ve got a proposition for you.”
Her eyes lit up. “You figure
d out a time when we can do it in the LOVE FM booth?”
I laughed. “Not that kind of proposition.”
“Ah, bummer.”
She was wearing an old red t-shirt of mine, which came down to the middle of her thighs, and she looked adorable in it. I walked over to where she was leaning against the kitchen counter and yanked on one of the sleeves until I’d reeled her toward me.
“I’ll work on your request,” I said, wrapping my arms around her and pecking a kiss on her nose. “I promise. But what I was thinking involves a different kind of planning.”
She traced a pattern of swirls on my back with her fingertips. “I’m listening.”
She wasn’t really, but she would be. Soon.
“Didn’t you say you had parent/teacher conferences at the end of this week?”
“Yes. Our conferences are Thursday afternoon and evening with more on Friday morning. Technically, we’re supposed to be out of the building by noon on Friday, though, and we have an incentive to finish up by then because of the long Columbus Day weekend that follows.”
That was what I was hoping to hear. Three and a half days wasn’t a lot of time, but it should be just enough for what I had in mind.
“Great,” I said. “So, is your passport still valid?”
~Vicky~
Blake could try to deny it all he wanted, but no one who wasn’t at least a little romantic at heart would have been able to concoct a getaway like this.
“You want to go to Montreal over Columbus Day weekend?” I said when he pulled out this Quebec guidebook he’d gotten and started pointing out sites.
“I think I’d like us to spend more time there than that,” he said thoughtfully. “There are a lot of cool places to visit in Quebec City, too, and the surrounding areas. But Montreal is doable in under four days and there are direct flights from Chicago. See?”
He flipped open his laptop and rattled off departure and arrival times. “Think of it as a scouting expedition,” he added. “We can maybe make a road trip back later, in the summer, but this would be a really good introduction for me and a Québécois refresher course for you. What do you say?”
After staring at him, speechless, for about ten seconds, what I said was...“Let’s go!”
Which was how we ended up zooming down Mirabelle Harbor’s Main Street at 12:03 p.m. on Friday afternoon.
Our carry-on bags were in the backseat of Blake’s car. Our tickets were purchased and our seats were confirmed. Excitement was high.
Until we heard the police sirens behind us and saw the flashing lights.
“Shit,” Blake said.
He pulled over, sighed heavily, and rolled down his window. “I wasn’t going that far above the speed limit,” he muttered, just before the officer sidled up to his door.
“Why am I not surprised it’s you behind the wheel, Blake?” the police officer said.
“T? I mean, Officer T?” Blake said. “Dude, you know my car. I wasn’t going too fast—”
“Terrance Ryland,” the guy said to me. Then, to Blake, “Yes, you were. Twelve miles above the speed limit to be exact. You haven’t been drinking, have you?”
“What? No!” Blake said emphatically.
I recognized the cop from that night when Blake got into the fight in front of Max’s. There was a solemnity in his dark eyes, but it was softened by a hint of amusement at the corners of his mouth. I got the sense that he was enjoying seeing Blake squirm a little.
“We have to catch a flight this afternoon,” Blake explained with an exaggeratedly patient tone. “And traffic to O’Hare can be fierce before a holiday weekend.”
The officer raised a disbelieving brow. “You’re taking a trip with him?” he said to me.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Willingly?” the cop asked.
“T!” Blake erupted. “Really?”
I laughed. “Absolutely,” I said. “And, hi. My name is Vicky Bernier.”
Terrance grinned at me. “Lovely to meet you, Vicky.” But Blake just looked increasingly irritated, especially when the cop said to him, “Driver’s license and insurance registration, please.”
“You know who I am,” Blake retorted but, nevertheless, he fished out his license and insurance card.
The officer pulled out his notepad and scribbled something down on it. He returned the cards to Blake but, with the sheet of paper, he reached through the open window and across the driver’s seat and handed that to me. “Keep a close eye on him, Vicky. He can be a wild one.” Then he clapped Blake’s shoulder with his large palm and said, “See you around, man. And, oh, if I catch you speeding again on my watch, you’ll regret it.”
Blake rolled his eyes as Terrance sauntered back to his police vehicle, honked at us once, and then drove away. Once the cop was gone, I could tell Blake was finally starting to see the humor in his buddy’s traffic stop.
“So, you guys have been friends for a long time?” I guessed.
“Forever,” Blake admitted. “Early elementary school.” He looked curiously at the sheet of paper Terrance had given me. “That’s not a ticket, is it?”
I shook my head. “It says ‘Warning’ at the top, though, and then: ‘Have a great trip and be safe...or else. -T.’”
Blake snorted.
He started the engine and pulled the car back onto the road, but I noticed he was being careful. He stayed (more or less) at the speed limit.
He put me in charge of choosing the music so, of course, I tuned in the car stereo to 102.5. Amelia Lockett was on the air. Blake had told me she and J.J. Jones were covering most of his shifts while we were away, so I felt a surge of appreciation for her, and for all of Blake’s LOVE FM colleagues. I’d heard even his bosses had been incredibly supportive of him when he told them about this trip.
Reportedly, Doug and Leonard had exclaimed, “Anything for the sake of love.”
Which was, in not so many words, almost exactly what Shar had said to me when I asked her to check in on Napoleon a few times over the weekend. Derek and Olivia were quick to agree to watching Winston so, really, the only thing Blake and I had to worry about was getting to the plane on time.
We talked for the whole drive, laughed, held hands. And, just as we reached the ramp to head into the airport, Barry Connelly’s “You’re the One” came on.
“Want me to change the station?” I asked. I remembered him saying how much he hated Connelly’s music.
But Blake was full of surprises. “Nah,” he replied. “This one is kinda growing on me.”
And when I started singing along with it on the radio, Blake said with a laugh, “Oh, hell, this just might be our song.” And he joined in.
~END~
**Look for Marianna’s love story and her Sarasota, Florida adventure in Stranger on the Shore—coming soon!**
A Note from the Author
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Other Books by Bestselling Author Marilyn Brant
Stand-Alone Women’s Fiction Novels (contempo
rary romantic women’s fiction)
According to Jane
Friday Mornings at Nine
A Summer in Europe
Mystery Novels (coming-of-age romantic mystery)
The Road to You (YA version)
The Road and Beyond (an expanded book-club version of The Road to You) (WF version)
Romantic Novella (sexy contemporary romance)
All About Us (an Abbott Springs novella)
Nonfiction (parenting essays)
Wanderlust in Suburbia and Other Reflections on Motherhood
Series Books - But Each Novel Can Be Enjoyed As Stand-Alone Story:
The Sweet Temptations Collection (sexy contemporary romance series)
On Any Given Sundae
Double Dipping
Holiday Man
The Sweet Temptations Collection (3-Book Set for the Series)
The Perfect Pair (sweet romantic comedy series)
Pride, Prejudice and the Perfect Match
Pride, Prejudice and the Perfect Bet
The Perfect Pair (2-Book Set for the Series)
The Mirabelle Harbor Stories (sexy contemporary romance series)
Look for all the books in the MIRABELLE HARBOR series!
Book One: Take a Chance on Me
Book Two: The One That I Want
Book Three: You Give Love a Bad Name
Book Four: Stranger on the Shore (coming soon)
About the Author
Marilyn Brant has been told she writes with honesty, liveliness, and wit (descriptors she’s grown terribly fond of) about complex, intelligent women—like her friends—and their significant personal relationships. Although her favorite pursuits undoubtedly involve books, she proves she’s not just a literary snob by confessing her lifelong fascination (read: obsession) with popular music, especially from the ‘70s and ‘80s, most flavors of ice cream, and a variety of sensuous body lotions/oils.
As a former teacher, library staff member, freelance magazine writer, and national book reviewer, Marilyn has spent much of her life lost in literature. She is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling and award-winning author of twelve novels to date, and a lifetime member of the Jane Austen Society of North America. The Illinois Association of Teachers of English (IATE) selected her as their 2013 Author of the Year.
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