All the narrow roads in Old Town had been blocked and cleared of traffic, and throngs of people danced in the streets in the chilly night air. Police officers were everywhere, and men like Tyler stood in fluorescent orange vests holding flashlights to direct visitors. It looked like fun. He looked like fun.
No, she corrected. He looked like an ad for the "manly" things: beer, cigars, power tools and big trucks. Tyler in black jeans and a leather bomber jacket that was so worn it was almost beige brought butterflies to her stomach that refused to settle. Tyler in a suit gave him the James Bond look and made her heart skip a couple of beats. What would Tyler in nothing do to her?
Instead of telling herself no, instead of reminding herself that she couldn't have a relationship with someone with the notoriety Tyler gained, she let her mind break free and imagine his naked body. He was all lean muscle and smooth, tanned skin, maybe a couple of scars … a really tight behind…
As if sensing her, he looked back over his shoulder. His smile fell slowly and even from the distance between her porch and the street, she could see his eyes darken. He knew what she was thinking! She blushed furiously and understood that his thoughts weren't far from hers. Now the warning that this was dangerous ground pulsed through her brain. Still, when he waved her over to him, she went.
"Hi," he said softly.
She stared up at him, light from the antique street lamp gleaming over his dark hair. "Hi yourself." Her heart thumped being near him, and though she wasn't a small woman, she suddenly felt delicate and vulnerable.
"Were you here last year for this?" he asked.
"Yes, but I'd only just opened the shop. I don't think half the town even knew the bookstore was here."
He hadn't known she was here, either, Tyler thought, smiling down at her as she looked out over the crowd across the street. People danced where they stood or danced down the street.
"Dance with me."
She tensed and Tyler noticed. "I really need to get back to the shop," she said.
"Lock it up and put the Closed sign in the window."
"Tyler, I'm running a business."
"Who's going to shop for books while all this is going on?" He gestured at the vendor wagons, the dancers, the sparkling lights.
That was true. "I do need to take Peggy more supplies. She's manning my vendor wagon."
Tyler smiled to himself. Lane had to have an excuse to have fun. "Then get them and we'll go."
"Aren't you on duty?"
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I can't have fun, too. Go on, go." He turned to give directions to a festival goer as Lane hurried back into the store. She returned shortly with a box of coffee supplies and wearing her jacket. Signaling to the next man stationed a little farther down the street, Tyler removed the safety vest and stuffed it in his pocket, then took the box from Lane.
They made their way through the crowd, and in a few minutes reached Peggy and the vendor wagon, both beneath a spreading oak tree. An attractive young man was perched on the flagstone wall that curved along the waterfront.
Peggy handed a customer a latte and looked at Lane. "Hi, Miss Lane
. Hey, big brother," Peggy said.
Lane swung her gaze to Tyler. "Brother?"
He shrugged, setting the box near Peggy. "I've known Peggy since she was born," he explained. "Her oldest brother, Jace, is my age."
Lane blinked. "Whoa, small-town life must agree with Diana," Lane said. "She doesn't look old enough to have a son your age."
"Mom and Dad married right out of high school. Mom put Dad through college," Peggy said. Tyler remained silent, glowering at the young man sitting near them, and Peggy sent him a wide-eyed "Would you please stop staring, you're embarrassing me" look. He didn't oblige her. Lane could almost see the kid sweating under Tyler's regard.
"Dad says he'd never have amounted to anything if Mom hadn't been with him," Peggy added. "This is Dean Parker. He's a senior at the University of South Carolina."
Lane shook his hand. "Nice to meet you."
Tyler just stared at him.
Lane nudged him and he scowled at her. "Lighten up, will you?" she said softly, and he shook the young man's hand. "Why don't you take a break?" Lane said. "I'll cover you for a bit."
"Are you sure? What about the shop?"
"Closed it. As Tyler pointed out, who's going to shop for books on a night like this?"
"You sure?"
"Of course. Go on. Nice to meet you, Dean," Lane said.
"Thank you, ma'am," Dean said, and glanced briefly at Tyler.
The couple walked away, hand in hand.
"Don't go far," Tyler called.
"Tyler! For pity's sake, she's nineteen, a grown woman not a child," Lane said.
"And he's a man. I know how they think." Tyler was still scowling at Peggy and Dean's backs.
"Well, I don't think Dean'll do anything after the way your eyes drilled a hole in him."
"He looks unsavory."
Lane found this highly amusing. Tyler was like a father defending his daughter against all hormone-challenged males. "Because he wears an earring?"
"Partly."
"My brother wears an earring."
He lifted a brow at that.
"And Peggy told me Dean's got a full scholarship. I doubt if he's any kind of slacker." Lane's lips quirked. "It's not like they just met, you know."
"I've never seen him before."
"And you're privy to everything in her life?"
"Yeah, just about. She's like one of my sisters."
"Peggy and Dean have both been away at school together. They've been dating for a year now."
"I didn't know that. How do you know?"
"Peggy told me. She worked for me for a couple of days before tonight. And unlike you, I haven't had my head buried in files and corporate meetings despite what the gossip says."
"I thought you didn't listen to gossip."
"Doesn't mean I don't hear it."
He sighed and took Dean's seat on the stone wall. "Yeah, I have been working a lot. Until lately."
"Are you going to blame me for that?"
"Well, you are a task."
"Really?" she said, pursing her lips.
Tyler smiled as he watched Lane serve a couple of customers, then took the latte she prepared for him. He stayed where he was and turned his gaze to the crowd. There were vendors from every store, and the local radio station was covering the event. Tyler returned his gaze to Lane. She was moving fast and furiously now, and when he asked if she needed help, she waved him off, claiming to be "in the zone." Still he watched her, his imagination coming quickly into play.
The party lights shone down on her, turning her hair the color of autumn leaves, but it was the light that lined the walkway that offered him the silhouette of her long legs beneath her skirt. He remembered seeing her running on the beach. He hadn't known it was her at first. She'd been right, it was too dark. But when she'd walked up the beach path between the properties, he knew. No one had posture that straight. Regal. She didn't walk into a room, she glided. And he'd bet his inheritance that there was a lot more beneath those layers of clothes and ugly hairdos that she would ever show anyone.
He wanted her to show it to him.
He realized it wasn't just a sexual attraction – though there was that, and if he thought about their last kiss, he wouldn't be able to stand straight – but the attraction was her quick mind, her wit. And that she wouldn't open up to anyone. She let a person get so far, then closed the door. Tyler liked pushing against it.
"What's your brother's name?"
She looked up, surprised. "Oh, ah, Angel."
"Strange name for a guy."
"It's a nickname for Angelo."
"Angelo Douglas, hmm?"
"How about your brothers and sisters?" she said quickly.
"There are four of us. You met my brother Kyle, and between us is Reid. And we have one sister, Kate. Kate's married with children."
"And
did you drill a hole in her husband the way you did Dean?"
"I whipped the tar out of him once."
Lane whirled, her eyes wide. "You what?"
"We were in high school. He hit on my prom date."
"Oh." Lane managed a smile, but Tyler saw a little sadness behind it.
Lane envied that he'd grown up around the same people all his life. She couldn't recall anyone from her childhood that she wasn't related to.
"Any more siblings?" he asked her.
"Richard, Mark and Sophie." At least, those were the anglicized versions. She wanted to say to him, I'm Elaina, Elaina Honora Giovanni. Her grandmother's name was Douglas, the Irish half of her bloodline.
Lane served customers and handed over the reins to Peggy when she returned. Dean got behind the cart with her, helping, and Lane had to pull Tyler away. "Come on, watchdog," she said. Tyler tossed his coffee cup in the trash and in one smooth move swung Lane into his arms and into a dance.
"Tyler, what are you doing?" she asked, embarrassingly out of step, whatever the dance was.
"The shag."
"I beg your pardon?"
She must have attended boarding schools, he thought. Her diction was always perfect, just like her posture.
"It's easy. You're not a real Southerner if you can't shag," he said.
"Apparently." Around them the laughter and excitement of the crowd grew. It was infectious.
"Loosen up, Lane, you're stiff as a board."
"Why, thank you, Fred Astaire." She tried, honestly she did, and it took another song for her to learn the steps, and then she was having fun. Her father used to tell her brothers that the man who can dance gets the girls. And Tyler must have stolen them all. He was a great lead, and for a moment, the area cleared for them. He spun her, dipped, with a little samba, and Lane didn't care that the crowd had singled them out. Her head was spinning as fast as Tyler could spin her in the dance steps. People sang with the band. Flashbulbs blinked in the night. The flicks of bright light made her flinch and she missed a step but Tyler pulled her close and then the rest of the world didn't matter.
Tyler felt her laughter sing through him. Once she got the hang of the dance, she was wild, and he wished the music wouldn't stop. Beach music. A chilly night, a bonfire. He was inside a little slice of heaven.
Then the song ended, people applauded, and Lane buried her face in his chest, catching her breath.
"Oh, that was fun!" she said, tipping her head back to look at him. "Thank you."
He grinned, pushing hair off her cheek. "Been a while since you cut loose?"
"Yeah, I guess." She'd nearly forgotten she could let go like that. She'd been hiding, careful for so long.
"Come on, I have to get back to my post till midnight. Unless you'd like to stay behind?"
"No, I'll go back with you."
His heart squeezed when she moved close to him and didn't stiffen when he put his arm around her. They walked back toward her shop, the crowd thinning now, and Tyler sat on her porch steps with her.
"Want more coffee?" she asked.
"No thanks, I'm wired for sound now."
"A beer, wine?"
He tipped an imaginary cap. "Can't. I'm on duty, ma'am."
Lane leaned back against the porch rail, a couple of feet separating them as he did the same. "Thank you, Tyler."
"For what?"
"Making me an official Southerner."
He winked at her. "You'll have to work on the drawl, though. We could do it again at the Winter Ball, at the end of festival week."
He could almost see the door slam shut. "Thanks for asking, but I can't."
"Why not?"
"A gentleman is not supposed to question a lady's refusal."
He made a face. "You went to charm school or something, didn't you?"
"My mother was a stickler for being proper."
"Well, that's hooey."
"Hooey?"
"Yeah, baloney, unfounded, nothing – hooey."
"Do you know how silly you sound?"
"I don't care. Why not go with me?"
"I think people will get the wrong idea about us if I do."
"And what idea is that?"
"That we're together."
"We haven't really been together yet."
In the dark she turned red, heat spreading up her face.
"But we will be," he said.
"See? That's where the bad reputation comes in, Tyler, You assume too much. I'm not going to sleep with you."
"I hadn't planned on sleeping with you at all." Her momentum dropped.
"I'd planned on doing everything in bed with you but sleep."
Lane's insides ignited. His words set off a waterfall of sensation – hot, molten, earth-shaking power moving through her body, under her skin, to land in a spot between her thighs. She was suddenly very warm and damp at the thought of him touching her, of being in a big bed and doing as he said … anything but sleeping.
"What if I just don't want to go to the Winter Ball?"
"Then don't."
"Okay, this discussion is over, then."
"Not a chance in hell."
"You'll keep asking?"
"Till you give me a good enough reason to stop."
"I don't have to."
"Yes, you do."
"Why?" she cried.
He slid over till he was right beside her, facing her, his leg cocked and touching hers. "Because you've lived in the town for nearly two years and haven't met anyone but Nalla and a few customers. Because the townspeople all need to see the woman I'm seeing."
Her insides melted.
"And the Winter Ball is like a cotillion. We all dress up and pretend we're high society."
Which was exactly why she didn't want to go. There would be cameras, reporters.
"It's a fun night, like a fairy tale. It gets everyone geared up for Christmas. And if you don't go with me, then I have to go alone," Tyler said.
He was on the city council of aldermen. It was politically correct for him to go.
"You could take another date."
"You want me to?"
"I don't care."
But she did. He could see it in her eyes.
"I'll have to think about it more," she said.
He frowned. "Okay, that's better than a no, I guess."
"I said think, not yes."
"Fair warning," he said, putting up a hand. He stared at her for a second, then settled back on his forearms. "You know, Lane, I've never had to work this hard for a date in my life." He stretched his legs out, his gaze on the crowd, ever vigilant.
"That I do not doubt."
Lane's gaze rode the long-legged length of him, and she felt the quiet power he exuded. It made her hunger to feel his bunching muscles and tanned skin. To feel him moving against her, naked and slow.
"Maybe once before. Mary-Sue Sanford."
Lane blinked, drawn out of her thoughts. "Mary-Sue?"
"Yeah, she had braids and red hair. She didn't want to share my swing with me."
"I can only assume from experience that you badgered her to give in."
His smile was self-deprecating. "She socked me in the eye. Knocked me flat on my back."
Lane laughed. She could see it, Tyler staring up at an angry redhead telling him, "Boys are stupid."
"Must be the red hair," he said, and she elbowed him.
"Do you always think you're going to get everything you want?"
He thought about that. "If I didn't, I wouldn't go after anything at all. My mom says I'm like a terrier with a bone. I refuse to give up. Just so you know that."
She rolled her eyes. "Gee. Thanks for the news flash. I'm flattered, Tyler."
He made a face. "I don't want you to be flattered. I want you to give in." He pushed himself up slightly, leaning as he did, his intent to kiss her clear to anyone who was watching.
"And then what?"
He stilled, halfway to his target. "Then what, what?"
> "Then what happens? Suppose you have me, Tyler, we share some fun, a bed. Then what?"
"I'm not looking for a lifetime commitment, Lane."
Her brows drew down. "So all this pursuing is for the Winter Ball? For a dance?"
He sat up, his gaze probing, and she wondered what or who he was dissecting – himself or her? "No. Of course not."
A calm settled over her and she sighed against the post, staring out into the street. People milled past, searching for their cars and home.
"Me, neither. And I told you before, I'm not prepared to be the talk of the town, one of your conquests, and then be left to gather up the pieces. Trust me when I say I've been there, done that."
She stood and walked to the door, unlocking it.
"Lane?"
"Good night, Tyler."
He was still staring at the door when the lock snicked and the lights went off.
Well, dang, he thought. Now what?
* * *
Nalla Campanelli was an exquisitely beautiful woman. She didn't work very hard to be so, a fact that was irritating to half the females in the town. Lane admired Nalla for her approach to life, which was full throttle. She was as comfortable in a power suit as she was in denim cutoffs and a tank top. Though her restaurant was small, it was on the newly renovated waterfront. Prime real estate and her customers came for the spectacular view and the comfortable atmosphere. You could have a quiet, elegant four-course meal in the Cracked Crab on the upper level, or you could make a complete pig of yourself and a huge mess smacking soft-shelled crabs with a mallet at the ground floor tables. The restaurant was an extension of Nalla, both elegant and laid-back.
It was closed now, but after hours was when Lane got to try the latest additions to the menu. Now she was tasting the puff pastry.
"I know you'll tell me honestly." Nalla twirled her long braid of bright red hair, then tossed it over her shoulder.
"Too much salt. It's not enhancing the pastry, it's overpowering it."
Nalla nodded, making a note in a big binder. "The filling?"
"Sorry, all I can taste is salt."
"Okay, tomorrow I'll give it another try before I put it on the menu."
"I'm going to be huge if we keep this up," Lane said.
"You're the only one who'll tell me the truth. My staff thinks I'll fire them if they don't like my creations."
AWAKENING BEAUTY Page 7