Do You Feel It Too?

by Nicola Rendell

  “Also known as Sharpsburg,” Lily added.

  Rather than stopping to acknowledge what she’d said, I rolled with it like we’d written this whole thing out. “Mary Goodwin never married and never stopped pining for him. They say that if you come out here on a quiet night like this one, with your lover . . .” Lily’s eyes met mine for a millisecond before darting away. “They say you can still hear Mary singing to William. Apparently, there’s one she likes most of all. ‘The Darling of My Heart.’”

  “Just ‘Darling of My Heart,’” Lily corrected.

  Sometimes, in this strange-ass business of mine, life handed you a great scene on a silver platter. This was one of those moments. If she knew the song, that was a million times better than my having to find some recording. I panned over to her fast and captured the expression on her face when she realized what she’d said.

  “It’s all you. Go for it,” I told her.

  She shook her head. “Oh no.” She waved me off. “Nope. I don’t. Nope.” She looked up at the sky. “No idea. Nope. Never heard the song before in my life.”

  Bullshit. “Come on now.”

  Lily gave me a sidelong warning stare.

  I watched her over the top of the camera. “If you don’t like how it sounds, I won’t use it. Just let me hear you. I’d love to hear you sing.”

  She shook her head again and plunged her hand into the picnic basket. But I kept the camera right on her and waited until she glanced at me again. I mouthed Please to her. She bit the inside of her lip, watching me all the time.

  “Come on. Please. For me.”

  She sighed, glanced away, and wet her lips. “Lemme see.” She ran her fingertips along the rippled liner of the truck bed. She began to hum very softly. It was such a beautiful sound—like a lullaby but sadder. Her voice was lovely, just like her. The more she got into the melody, the more confident she became. I watched her, captivated by her beautiful face as much as the lilt and emotion in her voice. It felt as though time stood still as she sang to me about the darling of her heart . . . and the home he would be leaving.

  23

  LILY

  We watched the sun set and then rigged up some audio recorders around and inside his truck. As the sky turned from dark blue to black, Gabe helped me back up onto the tailgate where we sat, waiting to see if anything happened that we might be able to say was Mary Goodwin. I kept the picnic basket between us in an effort to maintain a somewhat professional distance. But the facts were the facts: drinking champagne with him under the stars on Lovers’ Lane didn’t make me feel like being very professional, and I felt my resolve slowly start to flag.

  Out over the ocean, a shooting star whizzed across the darkness from left to right, and I gasped a little. I’d have taken one shooting star for all the fireworks in the world. There was something so magical to me about that—a little sign in the sky. “That’s good luck, you know,” I said.

  He added, “They also say that when you see one, you get to ask a question. And whoever you ask has to tell the truth.”

  I turned to him and narrowed my eyes. I was very much up on my shooting star lore; that sounded a bit like baloney. “Did you just make that up?”

  He clicked his tongue and looked out at the water, smiling. “Possibly. But you can’t blame a guy for trying.”

  I’d been smiling so much that now my face actually hurt, and I lay down on the truck bed, still warm from the heat of the day. I looked up at the North Star and then glanced at him. His broad shoulders drew his T-shirt tight over his back, each muscle and ridge accentuated by the light of the moon. “All right then. Go ahead.”

  Gabe lay down too, and though the basket was between our hips, our shoulders were roughly in line and there was nothing to stop us from turning to look at one another. But we both lay on our backs, like we were at a planetarium. “OK. I’ve got one for you. How’d you learn to sing like that? Your voice is just beautiful.”

  I wasn’t even sure about somewhat OK, let alone beautiful. But it was awfully nice of him to say so. I turned to face him, pressing my cheek to the plastic liner. A lock of my hair fell into my eyes, and I blew it out of the way. “I practice a lot,” I said, and then added in a whisper, “with the General!”

  Gabe laughed, stretching out a bit and making the truck rock slightly. “Now that’s something I’d kill to hear.” He tucked his forearm behind his head, and his clenched biceps accentuated the magnificent size of his arms. The rippling and untanned skin on the inside of his arms was somehow even sexier than the tanned and rugged outsides. “Your turn,” he said. “Ask me whatever you want.”

  This all felt a little bit like playing cards with my sister—rules were just a mere suggestion. “So, wait . . . we get unlimited questions per star?” I asked.

  He nodded at the sky. “Made-up star games are the best games.”

  I couldn’t argue with him on that because there was, in fact, something about him that I was dying to know. I’d been wondering about it since the first time I saw him on TV, and since I’d begun thinking about what his life must really be like—different in every single way from mine, I was sure. “Did you always want to host your own show?”

  “Hell no,” he said quickly. “I had no plans to be in show business. I went out to LA to go to graduate school.”

  I didn’t know what I’d expected him to say—that maybe he’d planned to be an actor or a model. And yet, what he’d said rang much truer. Except he’d left out the really good part, so I asked, “Grad school for . . .”

  He scoffed a little. “Archaeology. I wanted to teach it and take students around the world on digs. Ridiculous, right?”

  Oh Lord. The very last word I’d have used was ridiculous. Him as a professor? Tweed, maybe? Blazers with patches? Or wait, wait . . . like Indiana Jones! Tanned and dusty in some faraway place, uncovering ancient secrets? Mmm-hmmm! “Hardly!” I rolled onto my side and propped my cheek on my palm. “You still investigate mysteries in faraway places. Makes sense to me.”

  His eyes locked on to me for a long moment—a very intense few seconds when he stared deep into my eyes. And finally he said, “Nobody understands that about me, Lily. Not even my own family.”

  “I definitely understand it.” I ran my fingertip over the corrugated ridges of the truck bed. “I can see it now—Archaeology 210: Ancient Civilizations and Their Legends with Professor Powers.”

  He laughed to himself again and ran his hand down over his scrumptious stubble. “God, if only. But what happened was that I was playing a game of pickup basketball and some talent agency scout insisted on introducing me to Markowitz. I wasn’t really interested, but Markowitz is persistent as hell. He pitched this idea about an adventuring legend hunter; he said he’d been looking for a guy to do it and asked what I thought. At first, it sounded nuts. But I warmed up to it. Eventually, we came up with The Powers of Suggestion. Gave up grad school, got some capital saved up to do the first few seasons, and here I am.”

  The wind caught the willows, and far away the sound of a freighter blowing its horn cut through the air. In barely more than a whisper, I told him, “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Rolling over to face me, he reached across the gap between us and pushed that same pesky lock of hair away, tucking it behind my ear. “I am too. You’ve got no idea.”

  He didn’t take his hand away, and I let my cheek rest against his palm. As I savored the warmth of his skin against mine, I found that the things that had worried me earlier—the yearbook factor, the buzzy phone, the fan club, the General’s strong opinions on him—began to feel less and less important. Each moment I spent with him showed me that he was much more than a celebrity studmuffin; the more I learned about him, the more he went from out there among the collarbone-fondling fans to right here. With me.

  Looking into his eyes, I knew how utterly unlikely it was that this thing happening between us could be anything more than a fling. Our lives were too different, our worlds too far apart. We’d
never be celebrating silver and gold anniversaries together, I was certain of that. But in twenty-five or fifty years, or even tomorrow, I didn’t want to look back on this moment with regret. I didn’t want to see him on television one day in the future and think to myself, Oh, Lily, if only you’d had the guts . . .

  So I took a deep breath and asked the question that had been in the back of my mind since I’d read the contract. “If we did decide to . . .” I searched his face, like maybe I’d find the word there. “To . . . ignore the conduct clause . . .” I swallowed hard and let the rest of what I hadn’t quite known how to ask hang in the air unsaid.

  Gabe’s expression got more serious, and he gently ran his thumb over my cheek. “Whatever happens here stays between us. I promise you that.”

  I blinked a few times, purely out of nervous awkwardness, and couldn’t quite settle on which of his irises I should focus on. “And you won’t get in trouble?”

  He shook his head. “If it’s what we both want, then neither of us will. I’ll make sure of that.”

  A cool breeze off the water made me shudder. Gabe rolled up to sitting and grabbed his dress shirt from where he’d thrown it in the corner of the truck bed. He pushed the picnic basket back and helped me up to sitting, draping his shirt around my shoulders. “What do you say we wait for ‘Mary’ in the cab?” He offset her name with air quotes. “But I won’t push you. I promise.”

  I laughed a little and pulled my hair out from under his shirt collar, letting it fall loose around my shoulders. My curls slipped across the starched fabric. There was something oh so sexy about feeling his shirt against my skin. His cologne. Him, so close to me. Him, enveloping me. “I think waiting in the cab sounds perfect.”

  24

  GABE

  Closing up the tailgate, I made sure all the stuff I had bought her was safely inside the picnic basket. The cab doors had locked automatically, so I decided to take a chance on being a gentleman again and didn’t press the unlock button until I had my hand on her door. I helped her inside and shut the door for her, taking one second to hold her stare through the window before I went around to my side. Once we were in, I reached behind her and unzipped my bag. I grabbed an old hardback book that I’d found at the library: The Haunted Cypress: Ghost Tales of Savannah. I flipped to a chapter I’d marked with a scrap of paper. I tapped on the page and handed it to her. She angled the book slightly to catch the light of a nearby streetlamp. “‘Chapter Seven. Mary Goodwin, the Ghost of Bluff Drive,’” she read aloud.

  “Keep going,” I said, watching her closely. “Find the part where it says what you have to do to get her to show herself.”

  She cleared her throat and read, “‘In 1861, William Hackett, a cooper from Savannah, brought his beloved . . .’” Lily made a little pa-pa-pa with her lips as she skimmed on, picking out key phrases. “She says yes. He goes off to war. Antietam, right, right. Here it is.” She put her fingertip on the old-fashioned typeface on the heavy paper. “‘Legend has it that if Mary Goodwin doesn’t sing for you, it’s possible to lure her out of hiding. With a kiss.’”

  “I’ll be damned.”

  Lily put the book down in her lap and gave me a sternly playful glare, as if to say, Oh no you didn’t!

  I liked her when she was being soft, I liked her when she was being wild, and I even liked her when she was being slightly indignant. She pushed all my buttons in exactly the right way. “Just one kiss.” I held up my finger to my cheek to show her where I wanted it. “Tiny. You won’t even feel it.”

  “Pffft!” She tossed her head back and slapped the book shut. “Have you kissed you lately? I’d definitely feel it.”

  “Speak for yourself—you’re the one who’s going to be doing the kissing. But I think I can take it.” I tapped my cheek even more firmly and leaned toward her. “I won’t even cop a feel. Scout’s honor.” I gave her the Scout salute. “You have my word. One peck.”

  She placed her hands to her mouth, giggling softly into her palms, and then peeked over her fingers at me. “I can’t give you a peck. If there is one thing we established last night, it’s that you and I are way past pecks.”

  You’re goddamned right about that. “All right, I’ll meet you halfway. If you won’t give me a peck, at least hold my hand.” I put it palm up on the bench seat between us. For a long second, I thought she wasn’t going to give me even that. Just because she’d asked about the conduct clause didn’t necessarily mean she intended to break it. That would be one hell of a bummer. But the ball would always be in her court.

  She let her hands slide down her cheeks and into her lap. She knitted her own fingers together, twisting them nervously. She gave me a glance and looked out the window. “I know that you’re not here to stay.”

  “That’s true,” I said.

  “And I don’t want to get my heart broken.”

  “Lily,” I said, being as serious as I felt like I could be without going too far. “Look at me.”

  Her posture stiffened, and she shook her head. “I melt when I look at you. I can’t melt right now.”

  That was it exactly. Right then, I didn’t want to wreck her, I didn’t want to ruin her. I didn’t even want to be especially dirty. I just wanted to very slowly, very carefully, warm up that sensible shell until it dissolved in my hands. “You have to know that I want to melt you. So fucking badly.”

  She let out a little gasp, and I watched her close her eyes while she pursed her lips.

  I left it there. I kept my hand palm up on the seat. I watched the rise and fall of her chest, the curve of her neck as she turned even farther away.

  But then, very slowly, without turning to face me, she let her left hand slide across the upholstery toward me.

  I didn’t move a muscle until we were palm to palm. As soon as our skin touched, I felt that wave of desire tear right through me—through my chest, my stomach, my head, my cock—and I took her hand in mine. When I squeezed her hand, she took a deep breath. Still, she didn’t turn to face me and looked out into the darkness with her hand pressed to her chest. Ladylike and demure. For the moment.

  I ran my thumb over the back of her hand, again and again. I watched her shoulders relax, and she leaned against the window. I tightened my grip. “Want me to beg you?” I asked. “One kiss, Lily. Please.”

  Very slowly, very cautiously, she turned to look at me, her eyes sparkling by the light of the streetlamp. I wanted to pin her right up against her window and kiss her breathless. But this was her call. “You’re doing the kissing. You set the pace.”

  The wait felt fucking endless. We stared at each other in the low light as her chest rose and fell with more and more intensity. Finally, she tentatively placed her other hand on the bench seat and began to lean into me. Even though I didn’t want to look away from her, I held up my end of the bargain and turned my face forward to give her my cheek. I savored every second of her getting closer. The way she smelled, the sound of her breath, the sound of her jeans sliding against the upholstery, the way her nose brushed against my cheek just before the kiss.

  When her lips touched my skin, I tried to hang on to that feeling forever. Because if she was really going to stick to the contract, this might be all I was ever going to get.

  But the peck lingered. She stayed there with her lips grazing my cheek and her forehead resting gently against my temple. She was so close that when she blinked, I felt her eyelashes brush against my cheek.

  “You know how much I want you,” I told her. “You know how much I need to feel you again.”

  Her breath came out as a shudder and I turned to face her, bringing my left hand up to caress her face. I let my fingers slide into her thick, dark hair, holding her jaw steady with my thumb. “I can’t be around you unless I get to have all of you, Lily. I’ll go out of my goddamned mind.”

  At first she didn’t say anything, and I didn’t even know if she would. But finally, fucking finally, she took a breath, and said, “Kiss me. Right now.”
/>
  Christ almighty, did I kiss her. I’d been a gentleman long enough; it was time to get wild. As soon as our tongues met, we were off to the races, and we went for each other in a teeth-clashing kiss that left zero room for her to doubt how badly she and I needed to be one again. As the kiss intensified and we both got more aggressive, I brought my hands down her body and gripped her by the hips. I pulled her into me and she hooked one knee over my body, slipping herself between me and the steering wheel. With one hand, she gripped my T-shirt. And with the other, she pulled the lever to make my seat recline all the way. Goddamn, how I loved a woman who understood the fine art of making out in a pickup.

  She dropped her weight onto me more firmly, and I growled as she compressed my cock between my thigh and her pelvis. She looped her arms around my shoulders, and I slid my hands under her shirt, feeling the smallness of her waist, the ripples of her rib cage, the lace-wrapped underwire of her bra.

  When she came up for a breath, her eyes were glassy with desire and her lips were red around the edges from my stubble. Damn, I needed to be back inside her. “Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

  She ground into me more deeply. “What about Mary Goodwin?” she said, all coy and sassy. “What about the show, Mister Powers?”

  “To hell with the show.” I pulled her down into me to let her know what she was in for. She gasped a little and her hips bucked, making her pelvis drive almost painfully against my cock. Her hair brushed against my forearms and swept along the steering wheel. The hickey that I’d given her was now far less visible, and I didn’t like that one fucking bit, so I pulled her back down toward me and kissed her there, a sucking, biting kiss to show her that I’d marked her once and I’d mark her again.

  She sank down onto me even more deeply and whispered up at the ceiling of the cab, “And to hell with the conduct clause.”

  “Fuck yes.”

  25

  GABE

  For the ten-minute drive, she doubled down on me with the dirty talk. Last night she’d been shy about it, but not anymore. She got up on her knees beside me, whispering into my ear as I drove. “I want your cock inside me” made the stoplights blurry. “I want you to fuck me all night” damn near made me drive off the road.