Blinded by the sun blazing into their eyes as they reached the top of the stairs, Ez and Midge were several steps into the living room before they saw the two standing so still and lost in each other. Ez's abruptly cut off "What are—" was enough to snap them back to the present. Blinking as if they were just awakening, which in a sense they were, Kitt and O'Mara slowly turned their heads to look at the other two.
"Oh, hi," Kitt murmured vaguely.
"Is it time to go?" O'Mara asked with equal vagueness.
Ez shook his head pityingly, heaving a deep sigh of resignation. "You see what I mean, now," he said to Midge. "They're gone, poor devils, lost to us forever. And here I am, left alone, fated to wend my solitary way through life unless, of course, I can find a sympathetic soul to keep me company. Uh, a female soul, you understand."
Midge stepped back to stand, hands on hips, looking up at him. Wide-eyed, she gasped, "Incredible! I never knew they could pile it so high!"
It was enough to bring Kitt and O'Mara back to reality with shouts of laughter. Ez picked Midge up and tossed her over his shoulder. As he passed O'Mara on his way to the door, he flipped a thumb at Kitt and said, "If you could manage to concentrate her attention on getting dressed, we just might be ready to go in time to make our reservation. I'll drop this one off and be back to change myself; we can pick her up on our way."
Midge's muttered, "God, how I hate to be organized!" trailed off into unintelligible scolding as Ez closed the door behind them and ran down the stairs.
Kitt turned her head just enough to slant a hesitant look at O'Mara, and found him watching her with an enigmatic smile.
"Ah... I'd better get dressed, I guess. Are we... it looks... you look... I mean, what should I wear?" This is ridiculous. I can't even get a sentence out in one piece. Why do I let him keep doing this to me?
"I know what I'd like you to wear, but I doubt if you'd do it," he said suggestively, managing a creditable leer. He laughed at her quick scowl and pushed her ahead of him toward the hall. "Come on, silly, show me what you're hiding in your closet, and I'll pick out something appropriate."
"Now, wait just a minute, O'Mara," she demanded, bracing her feet and grabbing the back of the sofa. "I can choose my own clothes. Just tell me what kind of place we're going to."
He took the last step, which brought him against her back, moving his hand around to her waist and holding her lightly against him. While he worked at prying her hand off the sofa, he bent his head and murmured in her ear, "Don't be stubborn, love. If I leave it to you, you'll come out draped neck to toe in some kind of tent. Look at this shirt you're wearing. There's room enough in there for two of you. Come on, now," he coaxed, "let me pick out something I'll enjoy looking at. Trust me. You'll still be covered up—more or less."
She hissed at him and stamped a foot, narrowly missing his toe. "It's the less I don't like. Please, O'Mara—"
"No, don't grab the sofa again. Here, hold my hand. It will help me resist the temptation to put my other arm around you." She could hear laughter threading through the soft purr and felt a warm, melting sensation in her belly, which suddenly intensified as he slowly traced the rim of her ear with his tongue.
"Trust me," he whispered again. "I promise you won't be uncomfortable. And no one's going to bother you. Who's going to argue with both Ez and me?"
"Oh, you wretch," she sighed, leaning back against him and turning her head so his lips brushed her cheek. "You can look through my closet, but—"
The rest was lost as he tipped her face up and kissed her. Before she had time to pull away, it was over, and he was tugging her along with him down the hall.
Still reluctant, she paced after him, her brows drawn together in a frown as she tried to decide whether to laugh or swear. Kitt had developed very definite ideas about how she wanted to appear in public. Although she was perfectly willing to admit that her choice of clothes was inspired by a defensive need for concealment, she refused to face the fact that she subconsciously chose fabrics, colors and designs that enhanced her natural handsomeness and long, lithe form. When she looked in her mirror, she saw only a tall figure whose shape was blurred under loose sweaters and shirts or the straight lines of shift-style dresses and caftans. Ez could have told her that when she was moving with her long, graceful stride and elegant carriage, her slenderly curved body was far from hidden from the discerning eye.
Kitt was still muttering under her breath as O'Mara pushed open her closet doors. She returned his amused look with a scowl, and he tch-tched at her as he began flipping through the hangers. With her temper beginning to simmer at a slow boil, she paced around the room thinking up devastating comments about domineering males and pushy people who leap in uninvited and try to reorganize other people's lives. Loving and sharing were all very well, but choosing her clothes was something else. She'd been dressing herself for a good many years without any help and—
"Ahhh, now this I like." His admiring comment interrupted her mental diatribe and brought her head around to see what had pleased him so much. Head tilted consideringly, he was examining a long caftan which he was holding out at arm's length, its hanger hooked over one finger.
Grudgingly, Kitt had to admit, if only to herself, that it was one of her favorite gowns. Made of heavy natural silk in a rich ivory shade, with gold leaves embroidered around the neck, sleeves and hem, it was designed to be loose enough for comfort but narrow enough to skim the wearer's figure when she walked. Needless to say, Kitt had never seen herself walking in it; in her mirror, it hung straight from shoulder to ankle, and one of the reasons she liked it so much was that—she thought—it didn't show her shape at all. She also liked the neckline, cut in a shallow vee both front and back, which enabled her to slip the gown over her head without fussing with zips and hooks.
"Kitt?" He kept his voice low and undemanding, accurately reading the signs of incipient rebellion in her flashing eyes and the stubborn set of her mouth. Watching her out of the corner of his eye and gauging her reactions, he lifted one of the wide sleeves and held it out, admiring the graceful, almost medieval line.
"It would be just perfect for the Tidal Inlet," he murmured. "I'll bet it's really elegant on you, too."
"Is that where we're going—the Tidal Inlet? It's rather fancy, isn't it?"
His mouth twitched, but he managed not to smile and kept his voice bland as he answered, "Not exactly. It's... ah, how shall I put it?... quietly restrained. Yes. I thought it would be good experience for our courting couple. After all, there will be many occasions when they will have to subdue their natural high spirits and—"
"Oh, damn you, all right," interrupted Kitt, torn between laughter and exasperation. "But don't think I'm going to let you take over everything in my life."
"But I have no intention of it," he said, straight-faced. "Don't worry, love, I really couldn't cope with running a bookshop. When would I ever find time to write? Besides, it makes a nice little hobby for you and keeps you out of mischief while I'm busy. Not that I wouldn't like having you around all day, you understand, but—"
"You patronizing, overbearing... oh!... 'nice little hobby,' my foot!" Sputtering and shaking a fist under his nose, Kitt followed him as he backed slowly away from her. "O'Mara, if you think for one minute that I'm going to put up with... stop laughing, you wretch... it's not funny. I won't be—"
He stopped with his back against the wall and, still laughing, pushed her fist aside, cradled her head in his hands and kissed her, effectively distracting her attention. After an initial "Mmf" of surprise, Kitt placed her hands flat against his chest, ready to push herself away. However, she somehow found herself caught up in the comforting feeling of his wide mouth tentatively molding itself to the shape of hers.
Confused, with fragments of thoughts tumbling through her mind, she hovered on the brink of movement, unable to decide which way to go. No panic. Yet, Oh, that feels nice. Why so lightly? He's leaving it up to me. I should stop this. Now. I can feel his h
ands shaking. If he grabs— But he won't. Hmmm. That's better. And if I tilt my head, it's even better. Strange. There are some things you never forget. Like kissing O'Mara. No.' Don't!
She stiffened and pulled back as his hands closed over her shoulders, and he immediately dropped them to his sides. Leaning back against the wall, he folded his arms across his chest and watched her with a calm expression. Only a slight tension at the corners of his mouth betrayed the effort he was making to maintain that look.
After the one step back, she hesitated and then relaxed, reaching out to touch his hand and giving him a tentative smile.
"At least this time I didn't belt you," she said huskily.
"You did very well, love. You even kissed back." He kept his voice encouraging and warm, giving no indication of the battle he was waging with himself to keep from pulling her down onto the wide bed, just a tempting four feet away from them. He wondered whether she had been aware of what she was doing just before she pulled away from him. Even knowing what her reaction would be, he hadn't been able to stop his instinctive grip on her shoulders when he felt the warm, moist stroke of her tongue across his lips. He'd taught her to do that long ago, and he sensed that once she'd reacted to the feel of his mouth on hers, the old, well-learned response had been automatic. He watched the play of expressions across her face and wasn't surprised when she changed the subject.
"Did Ez... talk to you... about... about...." She struggled to say the words, but couldn't get them out.
"About Leon and what you went through? Yes, he did. In fact, we spent a large part of the afternoon discussing it."
He had himself under very tight control now, and she couldn't read anything in his face or his eyes but compassion. However, she could sense a seething fury tamped down under an iron will, and for a moment she felt a blazing flash of the old bitterness and hate sear through her. Unknowingly, she grimaced, as if in pain.
"Kitt? You all right?" He straightened away from the wall and smoothed her hair back. "We thought you wanted him to tell me." There was a faint question in his voice.
"I did. It's..." She turned and paced restlessly across the room. "I'm glad he told you. Really I am. I wanted him to because I couldn't think how—" She looked at him pleadingly from the far side of the room.
"I know. It was hard enough for Ez to tell me. It would have been even harder for you. But now that I know, try and see if you can bring yourself to talk with me about it. Not now. When you're ready. Okay?"
"Okay." It was just above a whisper, and he read her lips more than he heard her.
Deliberately changing the mood, he started purposefully toward the door, saying briskly, "Enough of this dithering about, my girl. If you want to get the shower before Ez, you'd best get a move on."
Her laugh was a bit shaky, but it was there. "You know it. It's not just that he wallows around in there forever, but he uses all the hot water. Must be a reaction to all those years of scrambling for quick, half-cold showers in locker rooms."
Halfway out the door, he turned back and said softly, "Don't be long. I've spent too much time without you as it is." He closed the door behind him and went whistling down the hall.
Kitt felt lightheaded. It was partly relief that O'Mara finally knew what a mess her marriage had been and just what had made her react to him as she had. Part of it was due to a growing hope and belief that he would figure out how to bring her back to normal. Most of all, she was caught up in the joyful acceptance of love. She was still drifting dreamily around her room, slowly undressing, when she heard the crunch of tires as Ez pulled into the lot. With a muttered "Damn, damn," she yanked off the rest of her clothes, grabbed her robe and raced for the bathroom.
There was no more time, then, for wishful thinking, tentative plans or faint doubts. Spurred on by Ez's intermittent bellows of "Move your butt, Sis," accompanied by periodic thumps on the door, she practically leaped in and out of the shower, brushed her teeth, whipped on her robe, yanked open the door and dodged just barely in time to miss being punched in the nose by Ez's big fist. "Hey!"
"Sorry, Sis," an unrepentant Ez said, grinning, "but how the hell was I supposed to know you were about to open the door?" He whacked her bottom as she went past and called to her closing door, "Don't lollygag around in there. We've got to pick up the pixie in half an hour."
As it was, Kitt was ready fifteen minutes before Ez made his appearance, and she and O'Mara shaded their eyes and groaned at the sight of his brawny torso draped in lime-green cashmere over a navy-blue silk shirt.
"God, Kitt, can't you do anything with his color sense?" moaned O'Mara. "I'd never have believed it could have gotten worse, but..."
"Oh, I don't know. That's not too bad. The white tie and pale gray pants kind of tone it down a bit," Kitt gurgled. "What I'm worried about is what Midge will be wearing. There's not much that goes with lime."
"Especially that amount of lime. There must be yards of it. Midge could use it for a blanket."
"Very funny, you two," Ez growled. "You just don't recognize class when you see it. I think this is a very striking color."
"Strikes me blind, it does," O'Mara commented dryly. "Time's fleeting. Let's move it, or Midge will be wondering if that giant lobster got you."
Fortunately, Midge had decided on a russet velvet outfit of flared pants and trim vest teamed with a full-sleeved chiffon blouse in a swirly pattern of pale lemon and peach. Kitt and O'Mara, sharing the middle seat in Ez's station wagon, found the ten-minute drive to the restaurant strangely peaceful, since Midge spent the entire time staring at Ez's lime-green and navy splendor in open-mouthed disbelief.
As Ez swung into the parking lot, Midge turned to look back at Kitt and O'Mara and managed, "Ahhh..."
"Exactly," Kitt agreed.
"Know just how you feel, Midge," O'Mara sympathized. "Hang on another few minutes, and we'll get you some brandy. It won't tone down the color, but after a glass of that you won't be able to see it anymore."
Ez maintained a facade of aloof detachment, ignoring all jibes and the double-takes of the people in the lounge when the four of them entered to find seats while they waited for their table. An impartial observer would have noted that Kitt and O'Mara drew as many looks of admiration as Ez drew of astonishment.
Within a few minutes, they were settled at a small table, Kitt and O'Mara on a banquette against the wall, while Midge and Ez occupied leather-upholstered swivel chairs across from them. Kitt leaned back, sipping her white wine, and let her gaze drift about the room. Her attention sharpened within a few moments as she noted how many people, mostly women, were smiling and nodding at O'Mara. She slanted a look at him as he half-lifted a lazy hand in acknowledgment of a group of people in the far corner.
"Friends?"
"More like acquaintances. Well, four of them, anyway. I don't know the others." He gave her a teasing smile. "Better start getting used to it, love, but keep it firmly in your doubting little mind that you're the woman I take home."
Her eyes flashed, but before she could speak, she felt a touch on her arm and turned to find Midge on her feet.
"I'm going to... ah... finish doing my hair. I was so rushed, I only had time to run a comb through it." There was a lilt of question in her voice and a definite appeal in her eyes that brought an immediate response from Kitt.
"Good idea," she said, smoothly rising to her feet. "I can feel some of these pins slipping. Maybe you can get them in more securely for me." She brushed a hand lightly over the loose chignon at her neck and divided a bland glance between O'Mara and Ez, who had risen to their feet. "Excuse us for a few minutes while Midge anchors my hair."
A smile twitched at the corners of O'Mara's mouth and he said softly, "Wouldn't bother me if you lost all your pins." The warning glint in her eyes brought the smile out fully, but all he said was, "I'll order another glass of wine for you. Very good for the nerves, white wine."
Ez gave her a questioning look as she followed Midge past him, but all Kitt c
ould do was shrug slightly and murmur, "I don't know."
She trailed Midge through the crowded room, accommodating her normally lithe stride to Midge's shorter legs.
Although she answered several greetings with a smile and a "Hi, there" or "Nice to see you," Midge didn't pause, but kept moving steadily toward the foyer. Kitt, with her attention fixed on the small, stiff shoulders in front of her, didn't notice the disappointment on several male faces when Midge ignored the opportunity of introducing them to the intriguing newcomer. In fact, she would have been dismayed had she realized how much interest her graceful progress was attracting from all over the room. She would have been even more dismayed if she could have heard the exchange between O'Mara and Ez.
"Something?" O'Mara asked quietly, his eyes fixed on Kitt's back as she moved away.
Ez took a swallow of his drink, swinging his chair around so he could watch the mismatched pair making their way toward the entrance. "I don't know. She's been uncommonly quiet ever since we picked her up. I really didn't think this jacket was all that shocking." A faint smile touched his mouth. "Look at those two. Half the men in here are falling out of their chairs. The long and the short of it. Between them, they've got something for everyone."
At the rare note of uncertainty in Ez's voice, O'Mara tore his eyes away from the enticing movement of Kitt's hips and looked at Ez with a mixture of surprise and comprehension. A slow smile widened his mouth as he drawled, "Well, well, the old bear's finally found his honey pot." He chuckled and then laughed out loud at the incredible sight of Ez blushing.
"Maybe," Ez said broodingly, noting with a jaundiced eye how many men Midge was acknowledging. "Hell, does she know every man in here?"
"I wouldn't think so," O'Mara teased, "but do try to keep in mind the fact that she's lived around here all her life. She's bound to know a lot of people."
"And most of them men," growled Ez, looking around the lounge. His attention was arrested suddenly, and he quickly scanned the room again and then cast a sly grin at O'Mara. "On the other hand, I'd say most of that chop-licking interest is going a bit over Midge's head."
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