by Alison Kent
Hmm. Was her we all-encompassing? Or limited to her and her son? "Why don't I take you guys out for dinner?"
"I don't know." She shrugged. "Zack and I still have a lot to sort out."
"You've talked to him?"
"Briefly. He apologized. He apparently ended up spending the night in the same room with Katie's father. Just the two of them."
Carson worked to hide his grin. "Not a bad start to his punishment."
Eva rolled her eyes on a long exhaled breath. "I seemed to have some impact. He's been fairly subdued."
"Any fallout yet?"
"No. Linda, Katie's mom, feels more than a little responsible. She shouldn't have left them alone and admits it."
That was true enough. "How'd the cheerleading competition go?"
"Apparently not well. Katie was rather ... distracted."
"Self-inflicted punishment. Oftentimes the most effective."
Eva pulled a rather pained expression. "Zack won't be seeing Katie for a while. Or at least that to be the outcome of his night spent with Jim Crenshaw."
Carson shook his head. "He had to be glad to wake up from that nightmare."
"He did tell me one thing," she said with seeming reluctance. And though she'd been looking at him, she averted her gaze.
Interesting reaction. Carson was all ears. "And that was?"
"That all he could think about afterward was the talk he'd had with you. And the fact that he wasn't"—she grimaced—"prepared."
Carson avoided patting himself on the back. "I told you he's got a good head on his shoulders."
"Thank you." Eva dipped her head in grateful acknowledgement. "Not just for the compliment. But for caring."
At last she was getting it. "You're welcome. But it really is my pleasure."
"So." She hesitated. Stalled. Finally found the pencil she'd been searching for when he'd walked up to Blooms' counter.
"What?" he prompted when she didn't pick up her train of thought.
"Have you decided anything about when you're going back?" She lifted a receipt book, a catalog. Avoided making eye contact. "To New York?"
He fought to keep from smiling. He'd wondered when she'd ask how long he planned to stay in town. "Is there a reason I'd be going back to New York?"
"Your work." She found the pencil, but lost the legitimate distraction. "Don't you have to report in or something?"
He shook his head and leaned an unconcerned elbow on the counter. "I told you. I'm on vacation. And when I get ready to go back to work, all I do is make a phone call. Bailey sends me out."
"What about your apartment?" She frowned.
"What apartment?"
"Your home. Where you live." She frowned deeper.
Carson shrugged. This was one thing they hadn't talked about. The fact that he didn't have any place he called home. "I live wherever I happen to be."
She paused for a moment, smiled to herself, then said, "So you could write a travelogue."
"Yeah. If I wanted to." He was curious about her private thoughts. "I've stayed in the finest and the worst places every country has to offer."
"The best way to do Bangkok on a budget."
"You've lost me."
She shook her head, indicating he really hadn't lost anything at all. "That's okay. I was talking out loud but thinking to myself. Don't you get tired of living like that?"
He shrugged and leaned a second elbow counter. "I'd never really thought much about it till I got here. But now, yeah. I'm getting tired."
"Maybe you're just getting old," she said, and poked the eraser end of the pencil into his shoulder.
He grabbed the pencil. "Maybe you're not old enough to play with pointed objects. Anyway. I'll figure it out soon. I'm staying through next weekend for sure."
"Why's that?" she asked, and stole the pencil from his fingers.
Uh-oh. "I guess Zack hasn't told you."
The pencil stilled, then fell from her fingers to the floor. "Now what hasn't he told me?"
"He made a decision about taking the prom portraits."
"He did?"
Oh, man. This was going to be good. "He's not going to do them."
"Good. Good for him. Maybe he does have that head on his shoulders after all." She stacked the receipt book and the seed catalogs. "Of course, now he probably wishes he'd decided to take them. I doubt he'll be doing much dancing with Katie. Or not without being scrutinized by my eagle eyes, and that of her parents."
"I'll be there, too."
"You?" She frowned. "Why?"
"I'm doing the portraits."
Eva had never had a real prom night. She was as giddy and excited as the members of Lake City High's junior class. The dress she'd decided to wear she'd thought too sophisticated for high school. But then she'd seen Katie's and Courtney's formals and had to change her mind.
In comparison to the ankle-length, sequined, backless, sideless, and in Courtney's case, very near frontless gowns the teenagers had chosen, Eva felt completely overdressed.
Giving into Judith's urging on the recent and fateful trip to New York, Eva had splurged on the sale of the designer label. The dress was simple, a gorgeous, straight and slimming cherry-red silk that skimmed her knees.
The neckline was a standard collarless minimal scoop, and it had no sleeves to speak of. She'd found a pair of red heels in a shade so close to perfect she couldn't pass them up, and had finished off the look with sheer red stockings.
The bright red set off her dark hair, hair over which she'd primped and fussed like she hadn't primped and fussed since her modeling days. She had to say the result was sexy and hot, with a crown of spiky tips and ends slicked to her nape.
For the first time in their history, Carson was picking her up. Like a real date. Standing in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom, Eva laughed. Arms spread wide, head back, she spun in a circle and laughed. She looked good. She looked hot. And she was going to the prom.
A knock on her bedroom door had her stumbling for balance and nearly spraining an ankle in the process. She was way too used to work boots. "Come in."
"Uh, hi." Zack glanced around the room. "I was looking for my mom."
She smacked his shoulder, then straightened the lapels on his tux. "You are a funny boy."
"And you ..." He stood back, taking her in with a wolf whistle and a disbelieving shake of his head. "You are all that. You're the one who's going to need a chaperone tonight. No. You're going to need a bodyguard."
"Why, thank you very much, kind sir." She started to curtsy, then decided she'd better master standing in one place first. "And you look totally ... I don't even know the word. Hot just doesn't seem like a thing a mother should be saying to her son."
"I don't think a son should be saying it or even thinking it about his mother, but man." Zack shook his head again. "You look like nothing I've ever seen. You look like the model in those pictures Dad had hanging in the hallway. But you look even better because I know you're the mom who made me cinnamon toast for breakfast when I was a kid."
She needed to make him cinnamon toast again. Soon. "That was so long ago, wasn't it? It's hard to believe it's been ten years since we left Kansas."
"I hated it here at first, you know," he said, tossing back lanky strands of hair. "I kept waiting for the Wizard to come with his hot-air balloon and take me back with Dorothy and Toto."
Eva's smile was tender. "Oh, Zack."
He shrugged off her concern. "But things have worked out. And now I have a mom who doesn't burn my butt when I screw up the way I did last week. I'm really sorry for all of that."
"You were really fortunate, you know." They'd been through and rehashed the San Antonio episode more than once already. "Mrs. Crenshaw would've been well within her rights to go to your principal. Or to Coach Walters."
"I know. She called this my second and last chance. If I mess up after this, I won't be seeing Katie again ever."
Eva gave her son a hug. "This won't be the only mi
stake you make in your life. Just make sure you learn from it. Now," she said, and stepped back. "Are you ready to go?"
Zack was taking the minivan to Katie's. From there they'd head to the prom in her car. "Yeah." He shuffled from foot to foot. "But I have something to give you first."
Eva grinned. "It must be good if it's making you that nervous."
Zack rolled his eyes. Then he thrust out the hand in which he held a florist's box.
"What's that?"
"It's for you. I figured Carson would buy you flowers, but I asked him if I could."
"Oh, Zack." Eva's eyes misted. "I might just have to keep you." The wrist corsage of red-tipped white carnations and rosebuds in both colors was perfect. A simple gift from son to mother.
He shuffled again. "I knew your dress was red. I just hope it matches okay."
"It matches perfectly. Here. Help me tie it on." She slipped her wrist through the elastic band and Zack's big broad hands fumbled with the ribbons, managing a clunky bow. Eva wouldn't have retied it for the world.
He stepped back and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "I guess I better be going."
"All right. I'll see you later."
"Oh, yeah. You'll see me." He rolled his eyes. "Every chaperone will see me."
"Try to have a good time."
"I'll have the best time I can considering my mother's going to be there."
"Ha Ha. Ha," she said, waving him away.
He left her in her room, where she made one more critical check of her dress, the evenness of the hem in the back, the flatness of her tummy in the front. She pulled and fluffed at the spikes of her hair, wiped a smudge of shadow from beneath her lower lashes, ran her tongue over her teeth and blotted her lips. The package was as good as it was going to get.
Hmm. Except for an aggravating wisp of hair. She really did need to find a pair of scissors and even up the section of bangs. But she'd have to do with a spritz of hair spray at the roots for now.
She turned toward the bathroom and stopped, heart rising into her throat when she saw Carson leaning negligently against her door frame.
She hadn’t been sure what he would wear. He was the photographer for the evening, after all. But he'd gone all out. The tux was black, the shirt crisp and white. The elegant simplicity wasn't as easy to pull off as it might've seemed.
Most men didn't have that elusive sense of presence that hovered around Carson. He looked like the spin of the earth waited for his command, like the sands shifted with a snap of his fingers, like the moon pulled at the tides when he gave the word.
She'd made love with this man. She loved this man. And this man loved her. Which was why before the end of this magical night she would tell him the truth of their history. Her feelings. The events. Everything she'd left out up to this point. Everything she wanted him to know.
"Are you just going to stand there and undress me with your eyes? Or are you going to fix that piece of hair that's bothering you?"
Arrogant man. She stuck out her tongue. "How did you know it was bothering me?"
"Because I know you. You were contemplating scissors, but didn't want the clipped hair to ruin your dress."
She narrowed her eyes in his direction. "You're uncanny, you know that?"
"No. You're just practical. Even when you modeled you hated messing with your hair."
She couldn't believe he remembered. How many times had he taken the scissors out of her hands? "I was only going to make a little snip. But, in deference to the dress, I've opted for hair spray instead."
He pushed off the door and walked into her bedroom and in a circle around her, studying her from all angles. The look in his eyes once he finished the tour made her glad she'd gone to so much trouble. That look, that appreciative devouring gleam was worth anything.
"Is the dress new?"
She nodded. "I bought it in New York."
"Nobody else has seen you wearing it?"
She shook her head slowly. What was he up to? "Only Zack."
"Good. Because every time you wear this dress," he said, dipping a finger into the hollow of her throat just above her neckline, "you're going to think about me."
"I am?" Her breathing quickened, her knees trembled.
He gave one lazy nod. "You're going to think about this."
She'd expected his finger to move lower. Instead, it rose. Slowly, slowly, upward, his touch following the line of her neck, stopping at the point of her chin which he lifted, demanding she look into his eyes.
"You're going to think about how much I want you. How much I want to see you standing there in nothing but your heels and your stockings." His nostrils flared, his eves flashed. "How much I want to lay you down and move into your body and lie still until we can't lie still anymore. When you wear this dress, I want you to think about me."
Eva couldn't think about anything else. Inside the dress, her body had melted. She'd have to be peeled out of the silk.
"Now. Let's go take some pictures and dance."
Chapter Twelve
Carson couldn't take his eyes off Eva. He'd finished with the portraits an hour ago and once he'd packed away his gear, had stayed as a volunteer chaperone. He shouldn't have bothered. He had no idea what the kids were getting away with right under his nose because Eva had his full attention.
She, on the other hand, was checking up on her young charges, deftly separating those who stood too close to one another, rounding up those who stood too far away from the crowd. But it was the way she accomplished both tasks that had Carson's face aching from the grin that wouldn't quit.
Like a nymph, a sprite nipping in and out of a field of flowers, she flitted and flirted her way through Lake City High's darkened cafeteria decorated in silver and blue. The kids either laughed or dropped their jaws in awe. This age group was too young to have known who Eva had been during her two years in the industry. But word was circling like a wagon train.
Eva was in her element. As much as she hated any reminders of her days in New York, she had survived and gone on to build this life here with her son. She had survived worse times as well: the loss of her mother, the loss of the man to whom she'd been married—the man who'd been the father of her child.
Eva had told Carson she didn't know if they stood a chance of making this thing work the second time around. She was wrong. Having been with her here the last month, he knew without a doubt she was wrong. They might not have been able to make a go of the relationship they'd had in their younger years. But now they had what it took.
Standing just inside the cafeteria door watching her, he was suddenly stuck with an overwhelming sense of all that he was feeling. The emotional and the physical had long since ceased to be two separate entities.
What he felt for Eva was love, complete with all the emotion's complexities and simplicities. He couldn't concentrate on any one aspect without the rest coming away attached. And the power of what he was feeling was something he needed to share with her. Now.
He moved into the room, hugging the perimeter as he began his advance and seduction. After a moment of reconnaissance, he found where she had landed. The poppy-red butterfly had found her offspring and was gettin' down with an energy that rivaled Zack's and Katie's. He recognized several of the teens' friends. Holly and Aaron. Bonnie and Ben.
Hands stuffed in his pockets, Carson ventured forth into unfamiliar territory. He acknowledged Katie's wave, the lift of Zack's chin, but had no real attention for anyone but Eva.
He wanted to lick away the bead of sweat rolling from her temple to her neck. He wanted to make quick work of her dress, even if it was with the scissors she'd been contemplating earlier. None of those were possible with an audience, or even practical from any point of view.
He had to get her out of here. He took hold of her upper arm. She glanced his way and asked him a question with her eyes. He inclined his head with a silent, "Let's go."
She smiled and answered, "Were you looking for me?"
Had the
re been a time in his life when he hadn't been looking for her? Hadn't half his travels around the globe been in search of what he'd found here in Lake City, Texas?
"I can't decide who's having more fun. The kids or the chaperone who thinks she's a kid," he said, as she walked beside him off the dance floor.
"I never had a prom," she reminded him. "I finished high school with a tutor's help and graduated by correspondence. I missed Homecoming and Valentine's and Sadie Hawkin's. So don't give me a hard time."
The hard time he had in mind for her had nothing to do with the prom. He glanced back over his shoulder, a furtive check to see if they were being watched. And then he propelled Eva out of the school cafeteria.
The hallway was empty and quieter, though not silent. Eva's heels clicked against the tiled floor. The bass from the band playing in the cafeteria boomed and rattled the walls. He heard as well the beat of his heart in his ears. And the cadence of his labored breathing.
Finally they reached the door to the gymnasium. He put a hand flat on the sign that said, "No Admittance—Photographic Equipment in Use," and pushed. The cavernous room, dimly lit and darkly shadowed, echoed the sound of Eva's laughter.
"What are we doing in here, besides breaking more than a few rules?"
"We're adults. The rules are for the kids."
"We're chaperones."
'Most of the kids are gone. The chaperone ratio won't be undermined if you slip out for a quickie."
A quickie?" she asked, and her eyes flashed. Even in the dimly lit room, her eyes flashed.
He placed his hands on her shoulders. His palms skimmed both red silk and flesh. "I've wanted to get my hands on this dress since I walked into your bedroom."
"You have?"
He nodded, skated his fingers down the line of her spine and dragged his palms to her sides. He measured both the strength and the muscles of her back, and the decidedly female indentation of her waist. "I've wanted to get you out of this dress since I walked into your bedroom."
"I don't think this is the time or place."
Her voice quivered, and he knew she was only giving lip service. His hands had reached her stomach now. He opened his fingers wide and pressed upward, cupped the fullness of her breasts. "I'm going to get beneath this dress and I'm not going to wait until we get back to your bedroom."