For a stunned moment, she remained in that undignified heap. Her mind created a mini-movie of what she must’ve looked like. A quick embarrassed laugh burst from her throat. She winced as she peeled her hands away from the sidewalk. This one needed to be entered in the Falling Hall of Fame. Then, realizing her skirt was no longer covering her lacy underwear, she slammed it down over her thighs, grimacing at the sting in her palms. No need to give the staring trick-or-treaters more of a show than necessary.
She looked toward the street corner where the Devil had disappeared. “Happy Halloween,” she muttered.
JOE Clarke suppressed the temptation to whistle while he worked. He loved his job as a superhero, even with the long hours and the often negative press, but it didn’t seem like work on Halloween. He got to dress up as anything he wanted and wander the streets looking for bad guys. Or more accurately, teenagers behaving badly.
Maybe the city’s real villains were at home handing out candy with their villain-in-training children; Joe didn’t know. But most of Double Bay’s superheroes spent these couple of nights patrolling their neighborhoods against the only immediate threat—tomorrow’s citizenry.
Devil’s Night, the night before Halloween, had become a free-for-all over the years. Kids had gotten it in their heads that they could do anything they wanted this one night of the year so long as they called it a prank. Even good kids succumbed to peer pressure to become petty vandals.
At one point, things had gotten so bad that chucking eggs at cars had escalated into setting the vehicles on fire. A city-wide crackdown a decade ago had brought the situation under control. Now most of the complaints were about smashed jack-o’-lanterns, stolen decorations, trees and shrubs wrapped in toilet paper, and thrown eggs and rotten vegetables.
Last night, Joe had arrived too late to keep a house from being toilet-papered—a very quiet job that he didn’t hear until he was right on top of it. But he’d managed to keep a few cars from getting egged. Of course, most of the eggs had dropped on the sidewalk when he’d scared the crap out of the kids. But better there than on a car’s paint job.
This year, Joe dressed as Zorro. The black costume concealed his presence and allowed him to stop more vandalism-in-progress than he’d managed last year. Fewer smashed pumpkins and stolen decorations, less graffiti. Renting the Captain America costume last year, complete with hoodie-mask and metal shield, rated high on his geek meter, but it hadn’t put the fear of God into many vandals. Zorro apparently scared them more, no doubt due to the fact that his sword looked real. Joe really liked the sword.
A flock of teenage girls rushed down a driveway and turned toward Joe. Their titters upon seeing him turned to giggling cries when Joe swept off his hat and bowed as he passed. He chuckled softly.
Dry leaves crunched under his feet as he walked the dark streets. The warm scent of woodsmoke curled into the brisk night air. An occasional gust of wind coming off the bay signaled colder weather on the way. Joe almost hoped it would snow soon. He’d bought a new John Deere Snowthrower last spring at an end-of-season clearance sale, and he could hardly wait to try it out.
A woman’s scream tore through the night.
Joe swiveled toward the sound and sprinted down the street. He analyzed the night as he ran. The woman didn’t sound in pain, or even scared, and she hadn’t screamed again. She sounded angry. Possibly a thief then, something relatively nonviolent. He hoped so. Violence against women and children unmasked darker sentiments in Joe’s heart that he didn’t like to acknowledge. He scanned the empty yards. The leafless branches of the trees made it easier to see, like looking through the bare arms of motionless skeletons. Nothing.
Running feet. He crossed the street to intercept the potential hoodlum. His costumed cape flew behind him. Hoodlums, plural. Two teenagers ran toward him.
“Stop!”
Joe’s command caused them to stumble over each other as they changed direction. They hopped a short fence and ran through a dark yard. A dog barked and another picked up the call. One of the teens threw something behind a parked car as he ran.
Protect her.
Joe hopped the fence and paused. He blinked and shook his head.
Protect her.
The feeling overwhelmed Joe’s senses like a voice that was more than audible. Team protocol called for him to nab the boys, call the police, and find whatever had been stolen, in that order. He was sure the woman’s scream was more of a yell, that she wasn’t hurt, but his intellect couldn’t overcome the command surging through his mind. Protect her.
He took a moment to search near the parked car and saw something fuzzy on a thin chain. The nearest streetlight was broken, so he couldn’t see well. Perhaps a woman’s purse? He’d never seen anything quite like it. Tucking the chain around his belt, he hustled down the street, looking for the woman who’d been mugged.
Turning a corner, he saw someone sprawled on the sidewalk. His heart raced. As he got closer, though, his steps slowed as alarm warmed into red-blooded admiration. A blonde pirate sat in a tumble of lace, one beautiful breast in her hand.
LEXIE’S comment about Tori forcing her school friends to play skidded through Tori’s mind. What were the chances that she’d forced the mugger to drop her purse? Probably not very great. She shook her head. Lexie was exaggerating to make a point. Sure, Tori was unnaturally good at convincing people to do things, but that didn’t mean she could force them to do what she said.
She carefully brushed the dirt from her fingers, not letting her palms touch, and began to put herself back into her costume. Trickier than it would seem using just her fingertips. She pulled away the bodice with her right hand, then used her left to tuck her breast back inside. But the stiff lace trim pulled at a piece of raw skin and made Tori’s eyes water. She snatched her hand back. Sure enough, the lace now glistened with blood.
“Cra-ap!” she muttered. Thoughts of Bactine and Fudgsicles entered Tori’s mind. Dixie had always been great about fixing life’s little scrapes. Her funny little saying—“Nothing broken, no one maimed”—a smile and a hug, followed with a Fudgsicle or a homemade treat; that would forever be how Tori judged life’s small injuries.
It was the big things Dixie couldn’t handle.
Still trying to adjust herself properly, Tori used both hands to push and prod. It shouldn’t take this much work for a B cup, but her bloody hands were half useless. She heard a soft swish of fabric on fabric, then darkness blotted out the streetlight.
Tori looked up in alarm.
Zorro towered over her. From her vantage point on the sidewalk, he looked enormous. Dressed all in black, he had tall gleaming boots, snug breeches, a billowy shirt under a flowing cape, and the perfect Zorro hat complete with a long black feather. Gorgeous. Tori craned her neck. He was at least as tall as her dad, and Danny stood at six feet in his socks.
The masked man looked stricken. His mouth worked soundlessly until the words finally came out. “Can I help you?”
Tori followed his gaze to see both her hands still inside her bodice. She snatched them out. The quick movement undid some of her work, so she hunched her shoulders a bit to block his line of sight, pushed and prodded—bloody hands be damned—and sat up straight again.
She cleared her throat. “Thank you, no, I’m fine.”
He raised his eyebrows. Even in the darkness, Tori was sure she saw him fighting back a smile. Then she realized what he meant—not her boobs, her situation!
“Oh!” She felt blood rush to her face. “I’ll be fine. I just have to get my purse back.” She moved to get up and winced.
Zorro bent to one knee. His cape swirled around them, giving Tori the strange feeling that they were alone together. Her heart raced. Behind the mask, his eyes looked kind but intense.
He held out a fluffy pink heart on a silver chain. “Yours?” he asked. “The kid dropped it. I guess it didn’t go with his outfit.” Zorro had the same expression her dad and brother got whenever they looked at her purse.
Kind of like they were about to heave.
Tori gasped. Sparing a glance for the dark stranger, she unclasped the heart-shaped bag to find everything still there. The mugger must’ve dropped it before he could open it.
“Th-thank you,” she said, fighting to keep her voice steady. A wave of emotion washed over her. Not a swirl of feelings like when she and Lexie were together. It was more specific...safe. Similar to when she was with her sister, but deeper somehow, more stable. She was absolutely and inexplicably safe. She stared into Zorro’s eyes, trying to figure out what was happening.
If it weren’t for the “no men” rule, Tori would find a way to get to know this man better. She’d never felt safer, but she’d learned her sister’s lessons. And her mother’s. She needed an exit strategy.
“You’re smiling.”
Really? So was he. Had she smiled first? If so, only because of that warm, wonderful feeling wrapping around them.
Zorro’s crooked smile lifted higher on the left. It made him look young and mischievous. This guy was dangerously cute. Gorgeous she could walk away from, but cute…
Tori cleared her throat and looked away. Get a grip. She took a deep breath to clear her head. Oh geez, he smelled wonderful. Something she did not want to notice. She pulled away, her nerves tingling.
“Thank you for finding my purse,” she said. She pulled her right leg under her to leverage herself up, but forgot about her skinned palms. As soon as they touched the sidewalk, she gasped and curled her wrists toward her body.
Zorro leaned over and picked up Tori’s hands. Turning them palm up, he grunted. “Bet that stings.”
His quiet, deep voice wrapped around her heart. His touch set her mind and body at ease. She was exactly where she was supposed to be.
Focus! She shook her head and leaned back a few inches. “Not as much as my leg,” she tried to joke.
“Let me see.” He laid her hands in her lap and gently prodded at her skinned-up leg. “Can you stand?”
Tending to her injuries, he was more focused on her than ever. It was disconcerting, uncomfortable, and fabulous. Tori wondered what it would be like to be the focus of his attention long-term.
“I’ll be fine, thank you,” she said, pushing his hands away and grimacing as her palms made contact. She should go home.
Rule #1—If you’re attracted to them, they’re bad for you.
Lexie and Tori had created the rules for their protection. Whoever Zorro really was under that mask, she feared he was the kind of man who would make her forget the rules.
Gathering her legs under her with as little wincing and groaning as she could manage, Tori tried to stand without giving Zorro an eyeful of black lace underwear. Before she realized his intent, Zorro grasped Tori’s ribcage and lifted her to her feet. Well, not exactly to her feet; they were dangling off the ground. He held her hundred-and-not-telling pounds off the sidewalk with ease. Too much ease. As if he were holding a teddy bear. How could he do that?
The idea of “superheroes” whizzed through her mind. But no, her parents insisted that the news stories were only publicity stunts by the city and the police department to make them look like they were tough on crime. Tori had never seen a superhero, but her experience with governmental agencies made her believe they’d say anything to look better to the public. Her parents were probably right. Zorro must be a bodybuilder or something.
“See if your ankle will hold your weight,” he said, and he lowered her until her feet touched the sidewalk.
Tori put most of her weight on her good foot, the high-heeled shoe holding her four inches above her normal height of five feet seven. Her other ankle throbbed. She needed a minute to get used to the discomfort before she walked home. And it was an excuse to tilt her head back and examine her savior. Oh yeah, much taller than her dad. Gorgeous, deep-brown eyes. Tori couldn’t tell if the warmth she experienced came from his hands around her waist, or something else.
The attraction intensified as they gazed into each other’s eyes. She wanted more. They leaned closer. Contentment and peace stirred in her heart. He wouldn’t let anything hurt her, she knew it. She couldn’t explain it, but that didn’t make it less true. The silence between them turned thick and warm. It wasn’t sex on Tori’s mind; it was that strange, confusing feeling of safety. Either way, it came down to the same thing—she wanted to be with him.
The thought of getting closer to the electrifying man before her filled Tori’s mind until her body followed. She took a step toward him on her twisted ankle—and tripped yet again.
JOE lunged for the woman falling at his feet. At first, when he’d held her at arm’s length, he’d focused on her features—soft lips, a slender nose, pretty eyes, and was that a velvet mole? He’d gotten distracted with her breasts…soft and plump and touchable, and pretty much falling out of her costume. She looked like the cover of a romance novel. He’d never read one, but he was pretty sure the men in those books got to touch what they were ogling.
But he felt that strange feeling inside expanding. It seemed to radiate out from his chest, similar to the way his super powers gathered just before he used them. He needed to protect this woman.
This woman.
Joe swallowed. Maybe it was something he ate, heartburn from onions. No, he’d eaten lasagna tonight. Freezer dinner. Never had heartburn from frozen lasagna.
Protect this woman.
Could it be something in his superhero blood that caused this reaction? He’d never felt anything like it before, never heard of anything like it. Wherever it came from, the feeling was powerful…and strangely peaceful. He felt stronger with her in his arms right now than he’d ever felt before. Which was ridiculous since he could stop a bullet with his bare skin, but there it was. Was there something about her that was reacting to his powers somehow?
Pirate Girl gazed up at him with a look of wonder of her face. She felt it, too.
Joe chuckled.
“What?”
He tried to hold in his laughter. “Uh…well, you look even more like a pirate now.”
Pirate Girl looked down at her torn stockings, spots of blood on the white lace edging of her black satin skirt. She touched her blond wig to see if it was askew. A jaunty felt pirate’s hat had been sewn onto the wig.
Joe wondered about her real hair color.
Her fingers found the eye patch still covering her forehead above her right eye. She pulled it down. “Aargh! Good thing you found the little devil before I did, or he’d be shark bait by now,” she said in a ridiculous attempt at a pirate voice.
Joe laughed, and Pirate Girl laughed with him.
“I love Halloween,” she said. “You can be anyone you want.”
The wistful note in her voice hit Joe in the stomach. He’d never wanted to be anyone else. The Clarke family superheroes went back generations. What could be better than that?
“Who do you want to be?” he asked.
The wistfulness crept into her expression and, for a moment, Joe thought she looked sad. Then she said in a low voice, her eyes dropping to his chest, “I think maybe with you I could be…myself.”
Joe’s protective instincts shifted up a gear and he pulled her closer. He didn’t know what to say. “So you’ll be falling for me often then?”
She burst into laughter. He could swear she moved further into his embrace.
He grinned. Playing the hero had never been this much fun before. The superheroes in his family had protected Double Bay for years, and Joe took his role as a guardian of the city seriously. It could be hard, lonely work, but tonight…
Tonight, rescuing this woman gave him more than just satisfaction with his work. He loved her laugh, spontaneous, full of warmth and joy. Her smiled bewitched him. He felt as if all the problems of the world were manageable, as if he were more powerful when she smiled at him.
“You have to admit, you’re having a lot of problems tonight,” he said. “Should I call your keeper?” He wrapped his arms more firmly arou
nd her, and she didn’t protest. He felt strong enough to stop a train.
Pirate Girl laughed again. “I really should have one.”
Joe let one of his hands run slowly down her back, enjoying the feel of her relaxing in his arms. Really enjoying the feel of her breasts pressed against his chest. Wondering how long he could stretch out this rescue. An hour? All night? Every night?
“You need a job?”
Joe’s hand stopped moving. Could she read his mind? The job of “keeper” or “keep her”?
“Well, I am a member of the neighborhood watch,” he said. “I think I could handle it.”
The mole on her cheek caught his attention as she asked, “We have a neighborhood watch?”
“We do,” he said to the mole. He could tell now that it was one of those press-on velvet ones, but he liked it all the same. “Unfortunately, I’m the only member.”
Joe raised his gaze to hers as she giggled again. She did that a lot. He didn’t know what she found so amusing, but he liked it. Neither too high nor too low, it reminded him of sleigh bells. Bright, warm, festive. Perfect for this time of year.
“Oh, well,” she said, heaving a sigh of mock disappointment. “I guess you better not quit then.” She looked around the dilapidated neighborhood. “I think we need you here.”
Joe followed the rise and fall of her breasts as she sighed. “Mmm-hmm,” he said.
“Hey!” She slapped at his shoulder. “I saw that.”
“Wha-at?” He grinned at her. It was hard to be serious when he felt so good. It brought out the tease in him, a skill he and his brothers had developed into an art form living with sisters. “You want help putting those back?”
She shifted in her one high-heeled shoe and pushed her body more firmly into his. Joe realized she was trying to hide her exposed flesh. Her little suede jacket wasn’t helping. Women and their impractical clothes. But who was he to complain, especially now?
“Close your eyes,” she ordered.
Superhero in Disguise (Adventures of Lewis and Clarke) Page 2