by Mara Jacobs
He was rolling with a good head of steam when he saw them. Probably had every thought showing on his face too when, just across the hallway and standing at the entrance of the ballroom, Duncan spied the two biggest assholes on the face of the Earth. Son of a bitch, he thought, as Vance and Brooks burst out laughing the moment they saw him.
“You two,” Duncan pointed. “Later,” he promised.
“Why are they laughing?” Annabelle asked as they entered the ballroom. “You don’t think they set all that up, do you?”
“I’m certain of it,” Duncan said, raising his voice to be heard above the band. He continued to hold Annabelle’s hand as he turned to face her. Behind her, the room was rocking. The large ballroom was jammed with party-goers, most of whom were dancing––and, from the looks of all the discarded jackets, sweating as well. Beyond that mayhem, the band put on a show. With a brass section and backup dancers, no wonder everyone wanted to be on the dance floor. “Man, this is some party,” he said over her head.
“Why would they do that?”
Duncan looked into Annabelle’s upturned face and couldn’t help but smile. She was indignant on his behalf. Almost made it all worth it. He carefully took the glass out of her hand and held up a finger indicating she should wait there. He stashed their drinks on a side table littered with purses, cocktail napkins, half-finished drinks and even ladies’ shoes. When he came back, he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her in close to speak against her ear.
“Brooks and Vance think I don’t like to dance.”
Annabelle pulled back and looked up at him with a cautious expression. He tugged her back to him intending to say more. But her heat and her scent had every neuron in his brain zeroing in on the soft, pale skin just below his lips. As if in a trance, he closed his eyes and leaned in to bite the tender spot between her neck and shoulder. Abruptly, he caught himself, his body immediately pumping adrenaline at the misstep. Jesus H. Christ. Sweet Mother Mary. He felt his heart pounding against his ribcage. His brain had shut down and his libido had gone commando. I am a complete goner. He swallowed before he could remember what he’d intended to say. When words came out they were thick, and full of want. “What Brooks and Vance don’t know is, I actually do like to dance. It just has to be with the right partner.”
Almost afraid to look at her, Duncan unwrapped himself and started to back up, slowly pulling Annabelle onto the dance floor. When his eyes finally made their way to her face, he was richly rewarded by the soft, tender expression waiting for him. Well, dang. Apparently he did have a way with words.
Duncan acknowledged that a lot of things had to be in alignment for him to have a good time on any dance floor. Two shots of tequila and a beer didn’t hurt. A kick-ass band could get him most of the way there. But he’d told the truth––having the right partner was key. Because while his attention was on Annabelle, thoughts of looking like an idiot out here didn’t bother to intrude.
While dancing over the course of the set, one of the things Duncan found wildly entertaining was watching Annabelle and her sisters dance around each other. They had this habit of hiking their gowns clear up to the tops of their thighs––and we’re talking some sweet-looking thighs. He expected Mrs. Devine to run out and swat all those dresses down at some point, but then he saw the darnedest thing. Mrs. Devine came running all right. But they must have been playing the family theme song because all the girls gathered where he and Annabelle were dancing, and even Mrs. Devine had the hem of her dress swishing around some very shapely thighs. Huh. It wasn’t quite ten o’clock and the Keeper and her mother were flashing the crowd. Damned if Brooks wasn’t right. This New Year’s Eve ball was kickin’ ass and taking names.
And as much fun as all that was, the elation he felt when a slow song began to play could have raised the Titanic. Because there was nothing he wanted to do more than get his hands on the ball of fire in front of him.
However, he was not going to swing her into his arms like an eager teen. No. He was of a mind to savor this coming together. Savor the first time he’d take this fast-drivin’, law-breakin’, debutante-makin’, quick-witted beauty into his arms. So he maneuvered slowly, with great intent and purpose. Stepping close and sliding one arm around her waist. Feeling the heat of her body, noticing her labored breathing. He bent one knee to fit between the two of hers before wrapping his other arm around her back, slowly pressing the solidness of his chest against the softness of hers. Her head tilted up. Her lips waiting just below his own. Like the start of a whirlpool, the blood in his head began to circle, threatening to take him under.
His eyes darted away from her face and around the room. “What?” he heard Annabelle’s soft rustle of laughter. “Who are you looking for?” she asked.
“Your father,” he confessed, then drew his attention back to her upturned face. “God, you’re beautiful,” he sighed. “But that guy scares me.” His gaze shot out around them again.
Annabelle tucked her forehead against his chest. She was laughing at him but it couldn’t be helped. He was dying to kiss her and just wasn’t willing to ruin the moment by worrying about her daddy as he did. Luckily, there was no sign of the man. But as relief started to flow, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. The WTF, you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me kind.
He cleared his throat. “Annabelle,” he said, causing her to look up in surprise. “The thing you are about to find out about me? I’ve got a temper.”
She saw them then. Brooks, Vance and three others moving in their direction.
“I swear to God, if one of them so much as hints at breaking in on this dance, it’s gonna get ugly.”
She looked between him and the approaching band of buffoons. “Now might be a good time for that test drive,” she said.
She took his hand and quickly led him away, bobbing and weaving through the couples slow dancing, heading straight toward the band. God, how great is this woman? They turned left at the stage edge, stooping low in front of all the dancers until they hit the outskirts of the crowd, then shot left again and broke into a run toward the far back door. When they hit the hallway, it was less crowded, and there was no sign of Brooks or Vance. Annabelle motioned for him to follow her to the right and then down a set of stairs. The music and party chatter kept receding as they descended, lingering over their heads as a heavy beat when they crossed back under the party and moved down a long, dimly-lit hallway that traversed the back of the clubhouse.
At the sight of the exit doors, Annabelle started laughing and broke into a run. Duncan followed in chase, hitting the door along with her and bounding up a short flight of concrete steps, free at last.
After working up a sweat on the dance floor, he found cool relief in the frigid night air. Annabelle continued to laugh, saying, “I can’t believe we just ran away from them.” She turned to Duncan, walking backwards into the light cast from a street lamp at the entrance to the parking lot. “Like playing hide and seek when we were kids.”
Duncan allowed his steps to slow into a lazy gait, enjoying the scene before him. Annabelle flushed with excitement, her eyes sparkling, her cheeks rosy, that dazzling smile turned on full wattage and directed right at him. The light behind her showing through her white gossamer gown giving him a full view of just how little she wore beneath it. In two quick steps he caught her up in his arms and pressed her to him, thinking he might owe Brooks and Vance a little gratitude for forcing them out here, finally alone under the dark of night. Because he was now going to be able to do the one thing he’d been thinking about for most of the day.
Drive Annabelle’s car.
“Ah, damn it to hell,” he uttered shaking his head. “And it was such a clean getaway, too.”
“What?” she laughed at him. “What could possibly be wrong now?”
“Besides the fact that for the second time today you are standing in the freezing cold wearing next to nothing? We need your car keys, Danica Patrick. Unless you have them strapped to your inner th
igh, I’m guessing they are back inside, tucked into some flimsy little purse.”
“Ooh,” she said, backing out of his hold and turning toward the parking lot. “There is so much you have left to learn, Officer Friendly,” she said, her voice trailing behind her. He caught up with her in time to hear, “We always leave the doors unlocked and the keys under the driver’s side mat.”
The idea left him dumbstruck as he halted and simply stared after her. Finally he shrugged, “I guess that’s good to know. In case I ever need to make a quick getaway.”
Impressed that her big bad muscle car was tucked into the end of a row, protecting at least one side from dings, he herded her around to the passenger side and opened the door, helping her in. The bitter cold was starting to seep into his awareness and he would have felt sorry for any Greek Goddess draped only in chiffon if it weren’t for the saliva-producing way her nipples responded.
He shut the door and practically growled as he headed to the driver’s side.
The inside of the machine was spacious due to its wide, low ride, but the leather bucket seats molded around his thighs, supporting him front to back. He started her up with a roar, and gave the gas a punch just to hear it again. He smiled the exhilarated smile of a kid strapping himself into the latest high-tech roller coaster. Thank God whatever weather system the newscasters had been yammering on about hadn’t started yet, because this was gonna be good.
After adjusting the mirrors and fastening his seat belt, he cautiously maneuvered Annabelle’s baby out of the parking space, down the lot and out onto the long front drive of the Henderson Country Club. He hit the gas and felt the power surge throw him back as the Camaro went from zero to sixty in one crazy nanosecond. He was braking before his thoughts could catch up to him, and sat for a moment at the end of the driveway, wondering why the hell he didn’t have one of these. Finally he turned his head toward Annabelle and said, “Awesome.” She simply nodded.
He fumbled in his jacket pocket for his cell phone and handed it to her. “Call Brooks,” he said. “Tell him I wanna open her up along Lake Road. See if any of his cop buddies are patrolling there this time of night.”
“Really? You want me to call Brooks and tell him where we are?”
“Haven’t we had enough tickets today, Little Miss Speedy Gonzales?”
“Are you kidding me? Brooks will be calling everybody on duty to nail your ass coming and going. You’d be handing him the revenge he needs after you won the bet today.”
Duncan stared at Annabelle, open mouthed.
“At least that’s what I’d do.” She flicked her shoulder. “But it’s your money,” she said, starting to dial.
Duncan grabbed the phone out of her hands. “It’s exactly what I’d do, too,” he muttered. “And what Brooks would do,” he assured her. “And did I just hear the word ‘ass’ come out of your mouth?” he said, stuffing the phone back in his pocket. “The Queen of Etiquette?” he said, putting the Camaro in gear and moving out onto the open road. “Or was that the hot babe in the Auto Mechanics Club talking?”
Annabelle just smiled into the night whizzing by her. “Take your pick,” she said.
I want both.
It was then that the thrill turned from the drive to what might be found at the destination.
Chapter Eight
Lake Road was the perfect place to open her up, but Annabelle knew that speed was one thrill, and handling another. So after Duncan hit somewhere around one hundred-twenty on the speedometer, Annabelle directed him to a winding country road leading up a small pass to a park that overlooked the lake. The back and forth turns could have been taken with a bit more speed in the light of day, but Duncan’s expressions and occasional outbursts assured her that he was having a good time playing with her car.
The road dumped into a small parking lot, which was apparently just large enough for Duncan to gun the engine, spin them around and skid into a stop. All of which was a little more daredevil than Duncan probably had intended, producing a short scream from Annabelle and some wide eyes and heavy breathing from him as the car settled beneath them.
“Oh my God!” “That was close!” they said at the same time.
“I got a little carried away,” he said sheepishly.
“Believe me, I understand,” she assured him. “Would you mind taking off your coat before we start back?”
Duncan looked down at his tuxedo jacket. “I am so sorry,” he said, quickly stripping the coat from his arms. “You must be freezing.”
“No,” she said, folding his jacket and holding it over the back seat. She let it drop behind them.
“No?” he said, his eyes shifting back and forth between hers.
She shook her head as she reached for his right hand and started to unfasten the cufflink she found at his wrist. Duncan watched in silence as she dropped it into the cup holder. But when she leaned over him and started to unfasten the other one, he dragged in a slow breath and caught the back of her head in the palm of his hand. She finished pulling the cufflink free just as he turned her face to his.
“Annabelle,” he whispered, his breath labored. “Annabelle, I…”
At a loss for words he brought his other hand up and captured the side of her face, pressing her back a little before his mouth caught up to his hands. He pressed his lips to hers in a slow, soft kiss.
It was just a tease, a tender touch, but oh how it shot rockets of desire through her body. He angled his head and kissed her again, this time allowing his tongue to sweep gently across her upper lip and then her lower one. He turned his head the other way and Annabelle’s hands moved up of their own volition to grab onto his wrists as his mouth toyed again with delicious tenderness.
“Annabelle,” he whispered, balancing his forehead against hers. “I was trying to hold out until midnight.”
Deliberately licking her lips, she whispered back, “I got tired of waiting.”
“I was trying to mind my manners,” he grunted as he hauled her over to the driver’s side, and settled her onto his lap. “Something I’m aware the Keeper of the Debutantes is all about.” With her back to the door and her legs draped over him and the center console, he hit the seat adjustment button to move them back from the steering wheel as far as possible.
Annabelle’s fingers started in on his bow tie, pulling it loose with expert hands. “First my jacket. Then my cufflinks. Now my tie? What am I? Your little Ken doll?”
Annabelle stopped her fingers on the second stud of his shirt, slanting her head to consider. “No. You’re more like my Officer Friendly action figure. And I’ve been dying to see you without a shirt ever since this afternoon when you wrapped me in your coat and pulled me up against this chest.” She rubbed her hands down his shirt, over his pectoral muscles and his rib cage then back up and over his shoulders. She stopped at his biceps and squeezed.
Duncan watched her ogle him, his grin spreading from ear to ear. “I guess a girl who drives a muscle car might have an appreciation for…” His words fell off while he moved his fingers into Annabelle’s hair. “I had this crazy urge this afternoon, too,” he said slowly, as if remembering. “I wanted to run my hand through your hair. Like this,” he said threading his fingers up the back of her scalp. “And then pull you close,” he whispered as he did. “And kiss you,” he went on as he touched her lips with short, soft kisses. “Like I meant it,” he breathed before he deepened the kiss.
The thrill of his tongue finally demanding its way into her mouth shot a branding heat throughout her chest and down the center of her rib cage. Her body grew heavy and warm and then seemed to fade away. Her mind fell into a blissful state of semi-consciousness while she kissed Duncan James.
Like rising through the fog of a dream and entering slowly back into a state of awareness, Annabelle found herself in Duncan’s arms, her body tingling in arousal, his mouth trailing its way from her lips, down her throat and over to the sensitive spot just above her clavicle. She felt his tongue swirl acro
ss the indentation there and his hands moving up on both sides of her rib cage, his thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts at first…then finally moving across the peaks of her nipples.
She heard a sound escape, though she was unaware of making it, so focused on her core being melted, tipped, and now cascading down to pool at the southernmost region of her body.
“I want…” she started, eyes closed, licking her lips. “I need to…” she tried again, but had no ability to find the right words. “Here,” she finally breathed, gripping the back of his seat and leveraging herself around Duncan’s legs. She pulled at her gown, gathering it high so her legs could straddle his, bringing them face to face. She eased her body down to his lap and bit her bottom lip when the throbbing aching need of her met the rock-solid heat of him.
Duncan rolled his pelvis in response. His hands slid down to grip her hips. “Jesus Christ,” he cursed as he rocked himself against her again. His hands slid under her gown and up her parted thighs, feeling their way to the soft curve of her behind, moving her forward at the same time as he ground himself against her. His mouth sought hers and she feasted on his lips, tilting her pelvis to help create more friction.
The deliciousness of her body moving against his, of his arms tightening around her, of the way their lips played, the way their tongues tangled, the joy of being alive and having found the One bubbled up inside Annabelle and it all came out in a yummy, humming sort of groaning approval that vibrated against his lips.
“I know,” he breathed, a hand coming up and sweeping the hair back from her face. “This feels really…” He kissed her again. “Really…” He got lost in her lips, and his hands groped around for purchase between the sides of her thighs, her lower back, sometimes skimming her aching breasts but not settling anywhere for long. Finally, he set both hands on either side of her face and put some distance between their lips. He looked at her, then closed his eyes, panting.