CARRIED AWAY

by Donna Kauffman

  Lovely. Femme fatales didn't squeal. She was pretty sure it was on the first page of their handbook.

  She peeled off the hand she'd plastered to her chest and tried to laugh and look totally unaffected by the fact that she could have been killed where she stood. It was much harder than it might seem, since she knew firsthand that lightning bolts did indeed kill people. One had killed her best friend when she was nine. She'd dealt with the death and the grisly misfortune of having witnessed it. But she'd never been able to get past her fear of electrical storms.

  Trevor was off his stool and halfway across the room, his eyes filled with a look that told her he understood. Far too much.

  She turned on Viv. "You told him?"

  Vivian managed to look guiltless except for the tiny spots of color that bloomed on her pale, freckled cheeks. It was the curse of the Irish, she'd always said, and one she hated. But right now Christy wasn't feeling so sorry for her.

  "He asked," Viv said with a little shrug.

  "Oh, well, fine then. Silly me," she said, turning to Trevor. "Anything else you want to know? Apparently my life is an open book."

  "Don't be mad at Viv. I knew you were upset earlier and it didn't seem like you, so I was curious."

  Christy was curious, too. "It didn't seem like me? You don't even know me."

  Trevor grinned. "I'm working on that."

  Christy felt the power of that grin all the way down to her toes. Well. So. She took a breath and tried to corral her inner-millennium woman strength. "If you want to know something, just ask me, okay?"

  "He figured he'd end up less injured by going through me," Viv said with a cheeky smile. "He knows you better than you think."

  "Oh, very funny. You two are a regular laugh riot. Maybe I should go back in the bathroom so you guys can continue having fun at my expense."

  "Oh, no, it's much more fun teasing you to your face."

  "Your turn will come," Christy warned.

  "It's always my turn," Viv said, laughing. "Coffee is ready. I went light on the coffee for you in deference to the current weather situation."

  "Bless you, all is forgiven," Christy said, taking the foamy mug Viv handed her. She looked around but didn't see Eric. "Where is the fourth in this little drama?"

  Viv's smile immediately vanished and Christy wished the question back, but as usual her mouth had operated before her brain.

  "He's in the other bathroom."

  Christy put a hand on her friend's arm. "You okay? I'm really sorry. We tried to stop him."

  A spark returned to Viv's pale eyes. "So I heard. I bet you looked better in that dress than I ever did."

  "Honey, no one could make that dress look good."

  They both laughed, but it died quickly when the master bedroom door opened and Eric stepped out. He tried to smile, but the tension fairly screamed off him. "I certainly know how to make an entrance, don't I?"

  Vivian's eyes shuttered and she turned away. Christy wasn't sure what had passed between them so far, but obviously nothing too wonderful. Not that she was surprised. She shot Eric a look as Vivian retreated to the kitchen on the other side of the bar, but he only had eyes for his ex-wife.

  "I think I have the makings for spaghetti," Vivian said to the group at large. "Christy, can you toss the salad?" A small smile came back to her then. "It's not technically cooking, so you shouldn't screw it up too badly."

  Christy made a face at her, but was glad to see her friend braving her way through this. She'd dealt with a lot these past eighteen months and was a much stronger woman for it. But she had to be on an emotional roller coaster right now and Christy felt helpless.

  "I'll make the salad," Eric offered quietly, coming to the other side of the bar. "I always liked your spaghetti."

  Christy immediately opened her mouth to override his offer, but a quick look from Viv had her closing it again.

  Well, what do you know? Maybe more had happened than she'd thought.

  "Okay. The greens are in the bottom drawer of the fridge," Viv told him.

  He moved into the small kitchen, careful not to brush against Viv, Christy noted with approval. Eric was still Eric, which she was forced to recall wasn't all bad, and it actually looked like he was trying.

  Viv slid the cutting block and a few tomatoes toward him, along with a knife. "Here, you can chop these."

  Eric smiled and this time Christy saw the boyish light in his eyes that used to always be there whenever he looked at his wife. She wondered what Viv saw when she looked into his eyes.

  "You sure you wouldn't rather keep the sharp blades close by?" he asked.

  Viv actually laughed. "My tongue is sharp enough, don't you think?"

  Smiling, Eric looked to Trevor. "Any expert military advice on how best to answer that one?"

  He held his hands up. "You're asking the wrong strategist. I could get you out of Bosnia in one piece, but I wouldn't make any bets on getting you out of that kitchen in the same condition."

  Everyone laughed and Christy saw Viv's shoulders relax a little as she went about browning the meat on the stove. Maybe this evening wouldn't be so horrible after all. If they could all be civil, she'd be thankful enough.

  Thunder shook the house again and a torrent of rain began pelting the huge picture windows.

  Trevor was beside Christy before she could think to attempt to mask her automatic reaction. "Hey, you want to play cards, checkers? Something to take your mind off things?"

  His voice was so deep, so vibrant, it caused a storm all its own inside her. Several things he could do to distract her came to mind. None of them board games. "Nothing will take my mind off of it. Except perhaps three or four more of these," she added, sipping at her Irish coffee again. "Then I'd be too sick to care."

  "I'm sorry about your friend," he said quietly, holding her gaze.

  "It was a long time ago."

  "Time doesn't heal every wound."

  She gave him a considering look. "You sound like you're speaking from personal experience."

  He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. He'd obviously dealt with some unpleasant things in his life, too.

  "It's a silly fear," she said, curious about just what those things were. Even though it was none of her business. "I've even seen a counselor friend of mine at the hospital about it." She shrugged. "We both understand where it comes from, and I totally realize the chances of it happening again are pretty much nil." She laughed lightly. "I mean, I'm a nurse, for God's sake. We don't see many lightning victims, you know?" She shrugged. "But I don't seem to be able to get past it." Lightning lit up the outside, followed by a loud cracking boom that made her jump. She laughed nervously. "See? My rational brain knows not to be afraid, but my body freaks every time. It's so stupid."

  He took her hand and tugged her closer. "Not so stupid."

  "It is. I'm a grown woman," she said, suddenly more nervous about the electrical storm in his blue eyes than the one raging outside.

  "So I've noticed."

  "I, um… Well."

  He grinned. "I've done it. I've rendered her speechless."

  She found a smile of her own. "I think I've been pretty quiet around you for most of the time we've spent together."

  "Only because you were unconscious. And even then…"

  She raised her eyebrows when he let the sentence dangle. "Are you insinuating I snore?"

  "I wouldn't call it snoring. In the strictest sense of the word, anyway. More like … snuffling."

  "Oh, well, gee. I feel ever so much better now, thanks. I don't snore. I snuffle. Me and the elephants."

  Trevor laughed. "I'm making such a good first impression here, aren't I?"

  "And second and third." But she was laughing, too. And he was making a great second and third impression. In fact, she realized she was actually enjoying herself. Storm, divorced couple and all. "Must be the military training. If at first you don't succeed, and all that."

  His eyes all but glowed in the dim
ming light. "I always succeed. Eventually."

  Christy swallowed, and when her throat proved too dry for that, she took a gulp of coffee … then choked when the whiskey hit the back of her throat. Trevor thumped her on the back and took her mug away so she wouldn't slosh it all over the place. "You okay?"

  No, she wasn't remotely okay. Not because of the whiskey, but because she'd realized something. Something she'd only really started to come to terms with in the bathroom. She wanted Trevor McQuillen. Bad. And unless she was totally mistaken, the feeling was mutual. All she had to do was not screw things up.

  Oh, great. Her batting average wasn't that good.

  The rafters shook overhead and she shook right along with them. Only, for once, her mind wasn't on the storm.

  "Christy?"

  She snapped her gaze up to his. "What? Oh, I'm fine. Fine." Now what did she do? Bat her eyelashes at him? Jump him?

  Think, think. What did she normally do when a guy made it clear he wanted her? Well, let's see. Um. As it turned out, she had no data stored for that particular possibility. Normally a guy just said, "Hey, you wanna go out?" and she either said yes or pretended she didn't hear him.

  So did she just wait for Trevor to ask her out?

  Somehow that didn't seem the millennium-woman way to handle this. She'd always been bold and confident in all the other areas of her life, mainly because she was pretty confident about the other areas of her life. But when it came to dealing with the opposite sex, where relationships were concerned … well, everyone had to have an Achilles' heel, right?

  But she'd certainly been bold and confident with him up to this point, so it didn't seem right to back down and play the waiting game now. Especially since she didn't want to wait. In fact, if it weren't for Viv and Eric…

  "Where are you?"

  She blinked at him. "I'm pretty sure I'm right here, why?"

  "You're standing here, but your thoughts are a million miles away."

  No they weren't, she could have told him. They were right here, about six inches in front of her. Right where he stood, deep inside her usual personal-space comfort zone. And yet those six inches might as well have been the Grand Canyon for all that she knew how to close them. With the exception of throwing herself at him—literally—and that didn't seem prudent with an audience in the kitchen.

  She glanced over and saw Viv and Eric working in silence, but totally oblivious to her and Trevor. She supposed that was a good thing.

  "Do you think they'll work things out?" Trevor asked quietly.

  "I'm not so sure trying to do that is the best thing for Viv. I know Eric wants to, and I'll even give him the fact that it looks like he's trying, but…" She shrugged and took her mug back from him. "I just don't want to see her ever go through that kind of pain again."

  "Sometimes you have to risk the pain to get the glory."

  She looked at him. "I'm not so sure how glorious marriage is, when you get right down to it."

  He looked surprised at her summation. "No good-marriage role models in your life?"

  "One or two, I guess, but even with them it seems like such a high-risk gamble, you know?"

  "What about your folks?"

  "My mom and dad were pretty happy. I don't remember my dad all that much—he died when I was little."

  "I'm sorry. Losing two people early on like that couldn't have been easy."

  She was confused for a moment, then remembered he knew about her childhood friend. "Well, my dad was sick pretty much from the time I was born, so we were prepared for that. As much as you can be anyway."

  "So your mom didn't remarry?"

  "Oh, sure, several times." She smiled then. "But you'd have to meet my mom to understand that I don't expect her to be a role model where marriage is concerned." No, Ruby Russell was an entity unto herself. "Maybe if my dad had been healthy and had lived she'd have been more … traditional." Then she laughed outright. "No, scratch that. She might have stayed married to my dad, but she could never be accused of being conventional."

  "Sounds like an interesting woman."

  "That and more—trust me." Which was why Christy was ever thankful that her mom had moved to Palm Beach with husband number three several years back and stayed down there after he'd passed on. It was harder to meddle in her daughter's love life long distance. Not impossible, but harder. "But she's a big believer in marriage. She just hasn't perfected the art herself."

  "So is that why you don't think it's a glorious thing? Too high a risk to find out if you can 'perfect the art,' as it were?"

  She grinned. "Just how did we get on this subject anyway? I feel like I've spilled half my life story in five minutes."

  "I told you I planned to get to know you better."

  Charmed and dangerous. She'd been right about that. "Well, now it's your five minutes. Are you the gung-ho type that believes every couple should stay together no matter what?"

  "Not at all. But if there was something there worth having initially and the two people involved can't seem to move on past it, then maybe it's not over yet."

  She cocked her head. "Speaking from personal experience?"

  "Not me. Never married, never tempted."

  "Then who were you referring to? Don't tell me Viv and Eric. This comes from some other place. You were too adamant."

  He grinned. "You're no slouch in interrogation techniques, either, you know."

  She batted her lashes. "Who, me? I'm just asking innocent questions here."

  "You, innocent? Right."

  "I think I'm insulted."

  "Don't be. Sharp and on the ball are far more interesting then naive and empty-headed."

  She sipped her drink, trying to swallow his directness at the same time. "You give great compliments."

  "I say what I mean."

  She looked at him over the rim of her cup. "Don't sidetrack me. Who were you referring to earlier? Your parents?"

  "I was actually talking about my grandmother. She raised me. At least the early years. Or she tried to."

  "Meaning?"

  "I was … a handful as they say."

  She widened her eyes in mock surprise. "You? I'm shocked."

  "You don't even know me," he said laughing.

  And then the millennium woman finally burst forth. She lowered her mug and smiled at him. "Well, things can change, can't they?"

  * * *

  Chapter 7

  « ^ »

  Trevor looked into Christy's dark eyes and wondered where she'd been all his life. Smart, funny, sharp, direct. And just vulnerable enough to appeal to his he-man protect-his-woman side. He hid a grin. Oh, she'd have a field day with him if he even let that little thought slip out. "I think things are already changing," he said, reaching up to toy with the damp ringlets of hair that were going in all different directions as they dried.

  "Dinner's ready," Viv announced.

  Christy jumped as if thunder had rocked them both. And just maybe it had.

  "Thank you," she said to him as they headed to the dining nook.

  "For?"

  She smiled up at him. "I forgot about the storm for a while."

  He grinned and pulled out a chair for her. "Anytime."

  She looked up at him as she took her seat. "Be careful what you offer. You'll get a phone call at three in the morning from a hysterical woman begging to be distracted."

  His entire body leaped in reaction, though he realized she hadn't meant it to sound so provocative. Which just made it all the more so. He leaned down by her ear as he helped push her chair in. "Promise? I'll make sure to give you my home, cell and pager numbers before we leave."

  He felt her shiver and it was all he could do not to touch her. God, he ached to kiss that smart mouth of hers.

  "Sit down," she hissed under her breath.

  He grinned. So, she could be gotten to after all. In fact, when he thought about it, the only time she seemed at a loss was when he made it clear he wanted her. Although she was finding her fee
t there, as well. He pulled up his chair, catty-corner to her, and tried to decide if he wanted to let her find them … or sweep her off of them.

  "Salad?" Viv offered, passing the large wooden bowl to him and snapping him from his thoughts.

  "Thanks." He looked in the bowl, then to Eric's hands.

  "What?" Eric said, looking at his hands, as well.

  "Just making sure nothing else got lopped into the salad."

  Eric laughed. "If she'd wanted to lop something off, it wouldn't be my fingers."

  Trevor winced and both Viv and Christy burst out laughing.

  "No," Viv said, still laughing. "His fingers were never a problem. In fact—" She broke off, her bravado giving way to a blush.

  Eric smiled, but wisely turned his attention to his salad and didn't comment.

  Trevor watched Christy watching the exchange and knew she was wondering just what had gone on beneath the surface in that silent kitchen. Even though he didn't know the couple, he was undeniably curious, as well. Human nature, he supposed. But Eric looked to be trying and Viv wasn't giving off any hostile signals. Quite the opposite actually.

  "Heavy thinking with your salad?" Trevor said quietly as he passed her the dressing.

  She glanced over at him, seemingly surprised by the comment. Did she think she was that hard to read? Or maybe she just wasn't used to anyone paying close attention. He couldn't seem to not pay her close attention. He smiled when he realized her thoughts had drifted again. He waggled the bottle of dressing in front of her and she laughed and blushed at the same time.

  "Wandering thoughts," she said, taking the bottle from him.

  "Tell me more."

  "Hey, what are you two whispering about over there?" Viv demanded good-naturedly. "Miss Russell, if you have something to say, why don't you share it with the whole class?"

  Christy smirked and tossed a crouton at her.

  Viv batted it away. "No food fights in this cafeteria or you'll go straight to the principal's office."

  Christy darted a look at Trevor and he had to swallow his grin. She had this sort of … sinful look on her face. As if she'd been imagining being sent to him… For what he was dying to know. He merely held her gaze, as if to say "Anyplace, anytime." He observed the tiniest little shiver race over her and his body stirred. Oh, to be alone with her right now. Her gaze flickered to his hands and his body hardened. So … he thought, trying not to clutch his wineglass any tighter or the stem would break. Did she want his hands on her? Because he'd be more than willing to accommodate that desire.