The Way U Look Tonight

by Dianne Castell

  “Well, something ran us off the road. What if it was him or some other ghostly thing? This house is old and has been through a lot. There’s all kinds of furniture, old clothes, books, paintings, even a rumpled bed by the far window. Those guys on Antiques Road Show would weep if they saw all this neat stuff. There’s got to be a ghost or two hanging out around up here. Maybe I could write a book.”

  “Beat the heck out of editor for Soap Scoops, I’ll give you that.”

  She put her candle where Dusty had roosted and leaned against the rolled back of the chaise and stared out the dormer window to the storm. “Writing’s a good way to starve,” she said, almost as if talking to herself, and as if it was something she’d thought about a million times before.

  He took in her soft blond curls framing her lovely face now free of rain-smeared makeup, and suddenly he didn’t give a flying fig what she wrote. “Nice outfit.”

  “There’s one just like it in the bathroom waiting for you. We’ll be twins.”

  “I’ll never look that good in a towel.”

  She gave him a slow, steady look, her eyes now sparking with something more than candlelight. “Depends who’s doing the looking.” The next flash of lightning didn’t generate as much electricity as what passed between them. He kissed her forehead because he simply couldn’t stand being this close to her without kissing her somewhere.

  She stiffened. “The last time you kissed me you were trying to prove a point. I think I’d rather you kiss someone else. Where’d Dusty go?”

  “I lied. I kissed you on the porch because I like doing it a hell of a lot, and the only way I could trust myself to keep away from you was if you were ticked off and stayed away from me. If you thought I was a louse, that’s what you would do.”

  “Well, that was totally juvenile.”

  “I remember something about you imagining me as Lex when we did the deed in the gym? Not exactly the most mature approach to sex.”

  She blushed. He could see it even in the dim light. She fiddled with the edge of the towel. “Yeah, that was pretty lame, too. Okay, so now what? I want you, you want me, we even like each other except for the minor inconveniences of lying to each other, running into Memphis, dressing like a hooker and getting into a bar fight. That’s a heck of a list for knowing each other only a week.”

  “Probably a record.”

  “You’re afraid if things don’t go well, I’ll dis you in the press and damage your career, and for me, being another member of the I-just-got-laid-by-Keefe O’Fallon fan club doesn’t work, though I suppose I already am a member. I just don’t choose to reup my membership.”

  “There’s no such club.” He touched her cheek. “Sometimes you have to go with a leap of faith, Callie.”

  Her eyes were bright, trusting, beautiful. “And you’re willing to go with that? Just jump into the middle of a relationship with all that is going on?”

  “Long-term plans may not work for us, but you’re here now. We have a few weeks, and to tell you the truth, that’s longer than any relationship I’ve had in some time. While I’m busy running from the press, my date’s usually posing and handing out her business cards. We’re not using each other and I like being with you. I’m done playing games to keep you out of my life. I say we go for it and work with what we’ve got.”

  She took the candle from his hand, set it on the trunk and stood, her eyes never leaving his as she undid the towel, letting it slowly unfold around her body and fall to the floor in a soft swish at her feet. “Well, this is what I’ve got, and I’m willing to share . . . with you.”

  “I’m sorry I hurt you with that proving-a-point lie. And I’m not just saying that to get into your pants.”

  “I know, my pants are already off. Now, what about yours?”

  “I kind of like it this way, me in clothes, you not. I get to focus completely on every delectable inch of you, no me to get in the way.”

  He stood and took her mouth as his arms swept around her silky body. He wanted to possess her. One person could never do that to another, but his urge to lay claim to Callie Cahill was overwhelming.

  Her fingers tangled into his hair, her mouth opening wider, giving him more of herself. He ran his hands up, then down, her back, not able to get enough of feeling her warm naked flesh against his palms. His hands slid lower across the small indent of her spine by her waist, then lower still, gently cupping the soft rounds of her tight bottom. A ragged moan sounded in the back of her throat, and he pressed her pelvis against his arousal to show her just what she did to him.

  She broke the kiss and said on a whisper, “I want you naked.”

  She undid his jeans, then slipped her hands into his briefs, gently taking hold of his erection between her palms. Every part of him suddenly went hot and hard, and he gazed down at her. “What happened to naked? You stopped.”

  “I got distracted.” She released his dick, then eased his briefs and jeans downward over his hips, exposing him. She looked her fill, and he felt himself get harder still. She didn’t even have to touch him to get him to respond to her. He kicked off his shoes, then peeled off his damp jeans and briefs.

  “I think I like both naked.” He pulled out his wallet and got a condom. She pushed him back, and his legs caught on the edge of the chaise, causing him to sit.

  She chuckled softly. “How convenient.” She straddled him, one knee on each side, her fine derriere perched on his bare thighs. She gazed down. “Goodness me, something’s come between us, Keefe, imagine that.” She took the condom and tore off the top of the package. With excruciating patience she began to cover him.

  “Damn, woman.” His eyes held hers as his body throbbed with anticipation. “People take less time to paper a room.”

  She gave him a siren’s smile and massaged his penis. Then she kissed him and knelt, the hot folds of her sex suddenly touching the tip of his erection.

  “Oh, babe.” He rallied all his self-control, and right now there wasn’t much. She lowered herself a bit, the tip of his penis pushing into her tightness.

  He swallowed the desire to possess her eating at his in-sides and he gripped her waist to steady himself as well as her. She leaned forward and kissed him, her tongue seducing his as she lowered herself more, the gradual penetration exquisite torture and this experience and Callie Cahill something he’d never forget.

  Callie’s breasts skimmed against Keefe’s chest, the tight curls of sandy hair against her sensitive nipples turning her on more than she thought possible. She lowered herself onto him a bit more. Then she pulled back up and lowered herself again, stroking his erection, nearly driving herself crazy in the process.

  “Where did you learn how to do this,” he hissed in a ragged voice.

  “I’m winging it.” She came down another inch, and his fingers molded her hips, then glided across her belly. “What are you doing?”

  “Winging it.” His thumbs rested at the apex of her legs; then he parted the soft wet folds beneath her tight curls, grazing her swollen clit. For a second she couldn’t breathe. Her eyes refused to focus as heat coursed through her. “Keefe,” she finally managed. “If you do that again . . . more . . . I . . .”

  His thumbs slid deeper, paying no attention to her warning, and he kissed her while massaging her tender flesh. She took him deeper inside her body, and his strokes quickened against her, the pressure stronger. He captured her left nipple with his warm, wet mouth, his lips suckling.

  Her body tightened, and she lowered herself completely, taking his shaft in one last plunge. Passion rolled over her in waves, and she felt his torso stiffen, perspiration dampening his skin. He sucked at her other nipple, his thumbs tormenting her as she raised herself again, sliding his erection out then in, increasing the rhythm as he stroked her faster, more deliberate, till her muscles tightened around his penis and she climaxed just as Keefe did, holding her, making them one.

  She collapsed against him, her head resting on his shoulder, his breathing as uneven
as hers. The rain drummed against the roof. The candles flickered as Keefe’s large hands rubbed her back for a long while, neither of them wanting to let go of the moment. “How can something so wonderful complicate the living hell out of our lives?”

  “It’s who we are that’s doing the complicating. The sex is pretty straightforward stuff. You, me, fitting parts. Can’t miss.”

  She rolled to the side, and he took his briefs, wrapping the condom inside. “I wonder where Dusty is?”

  “I wonder where we are?”

  He cupped her chin in his palm. “We’re where we want to be at this moment. Forget about the future. You and I are planners . . . Our careers, taking care of family, you name it, we plan for it. For once let’s see where this takes us. I say we wing it. Seemed to work pretty good tonight.”

  She stood, snagged her towel and wrapped it around her. He got up and brushed his lips to hers as something creaked, and Callie gasped. “There it is again.”

  “It’s the storm, babe, just the storm. We better find Dusty before he pees on some Civil War treasure and Thelma skins us alive.” He grabbed the other candle, then looked down at her. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before, you know that. You’re who you are, no pretenses.”

  She looped her finger into the waistband of his jeans. He needed a diversion. Time to figure out what just happened. He said, “Let’s go find a cat.”

  He followed her down the stairs past the bathroom. “I hear chewing noises.”

  Dusty stood by the bowl of food, chowing down. Callie said, “How do you feel about giving a cat a bath?”

  “About the same way I feel about poking myself in the eye with a sharp stick. Ryan, Quaid and I found this stray once, and the only way Dad would let us keep Ninja was if he was clean.”

  “Ninja?”

  Keefe pointed to the thin scar at the corner of his eye. “He deserved the name.” Keefe put his candle on a shelf by the door and added Callie’s next to it. “Okay, here’s the plan. I’ll hold the little critter around her shoulders, one douse in the shower, you shampoo, we rinse, dry with a towel, run like hell. This cannot take longer than one minute. I think five seconds is the world’s record for holding a cat in a shower.”

  Keefe pushed back the shower curtain suspended from the ceiling, encasing the claw-foot porcelain tub. He turned on the water, testing the gentle spray. “Ready?”

  “You’re going to help me? Even with your eye swollen nearly shut?”

  “This cat led me to you tonight. I can at least clean her up.” Callie studied the shower. Hauling Keefe in there held a lot more appeal than a cantankerous cat. She grabbed the shampoo bottle and hitched her towel tighter. “Nice kitty, kitty.” She gave Keefe a quick nod. He grabbed and put Dusty under the water. She snarled, hissed, growled and wiggled. “Hurry,” Keefe said.

  Callie lathered. Dusty squirmed more. Keefe added, “She’s slipping.”

  Suds flew into the air, covering his face and Callie’s hair. Bubbles slithered off her nose and stung his eyes. “Rinse.”

  Callie grabbed Dusty’s back paws, and they held her in the shower as Callie counted, “One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississippi.”

  The cat thrashed about, and Keefe said, “I can’t hold her. She’s too slippery.” Dusty sprang from his hands and dove for the corner. Back arched, tail straight up, dripping water, murder in her eyes.

  Keefe swiped suds from his face. “Think we’ll forgo the drying.”

  He took an old towel and dropped it on the floor. “Maybe she’ll roll on it. It’s warm in here. She’ll dry fine. I think she’s a calico. She gives a whole new meaning to mad as a wet cat.”

  Callie put her fingers to her mouth to keep from laughing outright. “And you look like you went through a car wash without a car.” She reached out, took a handful of Keefe’s shirt and pulled him toward her. “Let me help you rinse off. But I have to warn you, it’ll take longer than five seconds.”

  “Is that a promise?” He snagged her up into his arms. His teeth clamped onto the towel and pulled it the rest of the way free, the material slipping down, folding across his arms. He stood her in the tub, the warm shower raining around her. “You, candlelight, the water falling makes some picture.”

  “But I’m lonely.” She reached for the shampoo. “Want me to wash your . . . hair?” He grinned as he stripped off his clothes again and joined her. He snapped the bottle from her hands.

  “Hey,” she said. “I had plans for that.”

  He kissed her, the shower water seeping into their mouths, his erection rubbing between her legs. He lathered up a dollop of shampoo, and she watched intently. “That was my idea.”

  “Now it’s mine, with a little twist.” And he slid his hand between her thighs.

  “You devil,” she said on a quick intake of air, feeling dizzy with renewed desire.

  “I’m just getting started, honey.” He parted her slippery folds of heat, her legs widening, letting him enter her, her whimpers echoing off the tile. He whispered, “I love pleasing you.” He kissed her deeper, his fingers stroking, rinsing, then probing. She was so hot and wet for him.

  Her fingers fondled his arousal, then slowly closed around him, and he nearly lost his balance. His index finger thrust deeper, then withdrew; her strokes became faster and more deliberate, imitating his rhythm till her body quivered, then clenched in orgasm. “Oh, God, Keefe,” she murmured against his mouth.

  Heat tore through him as he reached his own climax. Giving Callie so much pleasure and her doing the same to him was astonishing. She sagged against him as he fondled her back and neck. He kissed her hair. “You’re addictive, you know that. I have you, and then all I can think about is having you again and again and again.”

  “I’m one giant potato chip.”

  “You’re air. I can’t get enough of you. Except the water’s getting cold, and we have to get out of here.”

  She peered up at him, her legs intertwined with his, her arms around his back holding him tight. “This is some leap of faith, Keefe O’Fallon. Where is it going to lead?”

  “Right now, to bed, just you and me and this storm all night. Tomorrow can damn well take care of itself.”

  ———

  Morning light streamed across the bed, and four paws pranced up her spine, followed by a meow. Okay, where was she? Every muscle in her body hurt; then she remembered why. She’d never spent the night making love before. She hadn’t thought she had it in her . . . but she did. Holy cow!

  Dusty jumped to the floor, and Callie pushed herself up and looked at the indent in the pillow next to her. Where was Keefe now? She stood, then slipped on the robe and heard Thelma calling from down the hallway, “Callie? Are you decent?”

  Thelma entered with a tray of goodies in hand along with some clothes draped over her arm. She set the tray on the bed along with shorts and a T-shirt. “Keefe brought them back for you. So how are you doing this morning? Keefe said there was a ruckus in Memphis last night and I should let you sleep. Are you okay now?”

  “The ruckus was me being naive and Keefe saving the day.” Callie eyed the food. “But I’m better now.”

  She parked down beside the tray, and Thelma did the same. She handed Callie a glass of juice and took one for herself. “I’m sure what you got into wasn’t that bad, and seems to me men enjoy saving the day once in a while. Fact is, a bunch of them are doing the manly thing as we speak and getting Keefe’s Jeep out of the ditch with as much horsepower and as big an audience from town as absolutely possible. Everyone’s out now taking inventory of the storm damage. We’ll be hearing tales about this storm over at Slim’s for the next six months.”

  “Anyone hurt?” Callie bit into a scone. “Dear heaven, these are great,” she said around a mouthful.

  “Why, thank you for that, and everyone in town is fine and dandy. The good part of this is it brings folks out and gets them all together and—”

  “Yoo-hoo,” came Geor
gette’s voice from down the hall. “Anyone up here?”

  Footsteps sounded on the wood floor, and Georgette came in and did a little wave. “Keefe said Callie was up here, and I had to see if she was okay. What a night and some storm to top it off, huh? Are those Thelma’s scones? Digger made me sausage, biscuits and gravy, but I’ve always got room for Thelma’s scones.” She sat on the edge of the bed and helped herself to the pastry. “Sweet mother these are good!”

  Thelma chuckled. “You’ve been hanging around Digger too much. Starting to talk like him. Heard you went and saved the Liberty Lee. Talk of the town this morning.”

  Georgette shrugged and brushed crumbs from her lips. “I hit the motor. Not exactly rocket science.”

  “Well, Digger’s sure making it out to be the save of the century.”

  Georgette put down her scone as if she’d suddenly lost her appetite. “Not that it’s going to do him any good. Digger’s butt-ugly broke. He said he’s got money coming in, but it’s not going to be enough to fix up the Lee according to coast guard specs to make it seaworthy enough for passengers. He was working on the boat last night, and I sort of went over his books that were on his desk.” She blushed. “I see a ledger, I got to know what’s in it. Anyway, he’s got to find a way to make money right now; then maybe the banks will lend him more for improvements.”

  Callie said, “So Keefe can lend him money.”

  “That just gets Digger deeper in debt. He needs viable income to show on paper, and he needs it now so the banks will back him.”

  Callie poured coffee. “Have you told him?”

  “I ... I can’t.” She sat up straight, looking a little prissy. “It’s not like there’s anything between Digger and me, not really, nothing permanent, that is. But we are friends, and I can’t break his heart like that. I know what it’s like to have your dreams and no one believe in them but you. I can’t tell him about the Lee. I’ve got to think of something. We’ve got to think of something.”