She heard footsteps and looked up to see a shadowy figure approaching. He carried a large flashlight that made her think of dark places, like coal mines and train tunnels.
He joined her, quietly taking in the scene. “You have a thing for candles, do you?”
“I like them, yes.”
“I’ve been to Christmas Eve services with less candles.”
“I like them,” she intoned, “especially real ones. Do you mind?”
“Not at all.”
He touched her arm and she felt a little shock that may or may not have been electrical. Given the way her hair stood on end, she hoped it was. Talk about tingling. She wondered if he felt it, but he didn’t mention it as they walked to the laundry room, which was down the hallway and past the bedrooms.
The only light in the small dark room was the flashlight he handed her.
“You get to do the honors,” he said. “I’ve already checked the fuse box. The problem isn’t there, so I’m going to have a look at your master control panel. It regulates whatever’s automated—porch lights that come on at dusk, coffeepots that come on in the morning. You may have some bad wiring or corrupted chips.”
“Great,” she said, “tell me how to help.”
“Hit me with your best shot.”
“Excuse me?”
The near darkness made his smile shadowy, sexy. “The flashlight. Put it where I need it, okay?”
Lucy moved closer to him, ignoring the quick little shiver that passed over her skin as she beamed the light on the control panel door. The bewildering array of wires, grids, and chips reminded her of a computer’s motherboard, which it was, she supposed.
“No chemistry, huh?” he said under his breath. “Then why do you break out in gooseflesh every time we get near each other?”
“What makes you think I do?”
“I can see it, Lucy.”
“Now? Here? In the dark?”
“We just came from the living room and that cathedral you created. I saw what happened when I touched you. You got goose bumps.”
“You keep giving me shocks. Who wouldn’t get goose bumps when you’re around?”
“Sorry.” Irony edged his apology. “I only shock people I really like.”
Lucy was tempted to shine the flashlight in his eyes and make him blink those big baby blues. “We agreed not to see each other again,” she reminded him. “It’s not fair for you to take advantage just because I’m in trouble, and I called you.”
“You’re right,” he conceded. “We did agree, and as much as I might love to take advantage, I won’t. No more goose bumps. No more idle conversation, either, unless it involves possessed appliances.”
“Thank you.” Her sense of satisfaction didn’t last long, however. He didn’t have to give up that easily, did he?
The laundry room fell silent as he worked. Lucy concentrated on holding the light steady while he sorted wires and untangled circuitry. He seemed completely absorbed, which she found very sensual for some unknown reason. But it was the natural, sensual grace of his movements that held her attention. He had the precision of a bomb squad specialist. He knew exactly how to coax and cajole the tangled circuitry, how to tame the nest of wires. It was artistry, pure and simple. Seduction. That’s right, baby, come to me. Come to me. Give a little, just a little, that’s right, let it go. Real nice, real slow . . .
Seduction. And it was working.
She couldn’t seem to stop fantasizing about the sensitivity of those hands in other situations, such as probing the tender mysteries of a woman’s body. God, he had to be good. How could he not? She was getting jealous of the wires.
Another one of those sweet little shocks hit her, but this one was nowhere near her arm. It was a flash of pleasure between her legs that made her eyelids flutter.
The flashlight wobbled before Lucy realized she was moving. He didn’t seem to notice, but she spoke up, mostly to distract herself. “What is it you find so sexy about T-shirts?”
“Nothing, unless you’re wearing one of them.”
“You can’t be serious. I could be a half-naked bag lady.”
“It’s the half-naked part I like. Speaking of which, the one you’re wearing could be a little shorter.”
“Or have a V-neck to show off my magnificent cleavage?”
“Now there’s a thought. Maybe you should ditch the T-shirt altogether. Think how inspired I’d be to get the lights back on.”
Hysteria bubbled up inside her, causing the flashlight to dance. Clearly he’d never seen her nude self. She was not a hard body, and her breasts weren’t the only pleasingly plump part of her five-foot, five-inch frame. Around her period even her ankles got chubby.
“You okay?” He hesitated in his work, as if waiting for the beam to stop gyrating.
“I’m fine.” She tucked dark waves behind her ear, just in case he happened to look her way. “Such a nuisance, this hair. It’s always falling into my eyes.”
Of course he didn’t look her way—and she wasn’t certain what it would take to get him to do so. She’d never seen such focus. It was beginning to annoy her. He had way too much control. He obviously wasn’t having any thoughts erotic enough to distract him, but why not? She’d love to shake him up a little, give him a few goose bumps. He’d shut off the circuit breakers, so it wasn’t like there was any real danger in trying to get a charge of out of him, so to speak.
Just another test, she told herself. And she needed to do some reality testing. Noah had said so himself.
She mustered her courage as she watched him gingerly slide a wire back into place and then fasten it down with a screwdriver. Those agile fingers might be irresistibly sexy, but it was his ability to completely ignore her that finally spurred her into action.
“What’s that funny red thing?” She sidled close to him and pointed out a flickering red switch on a grid.
“What?”
“That switch?” She leaned over him, as if to show him what she meant. “See?” Naturally she was brushing his arm with her breast. And quite openly, too. Why not, since he was so appreciative of her magnificent cleavage?
“It’s a warning light to tell us the control panel is disabled, and the memory chip is running off battery power.”
“Fascinating.” Her tone was dry. How did he stay so oblivious? Was it a gift?
“Seems as if you’ve been at this for ages. Are we a little tight, maybe?” She switched the light to her left hand and smoothed her fingers over the bunched muscles of his shoulders and neck, feathering them as she went. “Ooo, we are tight. Does that feel better?”
She saw his eyebrows knit and wondered if it was her or the circuit he was working with. “I give excellent neck massages,” she said, softening her voice to a purr. “It takes two hands, though. I’d have to set the flashlight down, and it might get a little dark in here.”
“Think I’ll pass,” he murmured.
At least he was listening. “Are you sure?” She began to play with the dark hair that curled along the back of his collar. The soft, silky feel of it brought a little moan of appreciation to her lips. “Nice,” she said as she swirled her fingers through it, working her way to the back of his ear. His lobes were soft, too.
“Doesn’t that feel nice?” she asked.
He said nothing as she caressed the lobe with her knuckles, wondering what it was going to take to get his attention. Maybe if she stuck her tongue in his ear. Never going to happen, of course, but while she was contemplating the idea, she saw his bicep flex. And then his jaw knotted up, right before her eyes. Now that was interesting.
She dared to delve inside his ear, playing in the whorls. She seemed to have his attention now. At least he’d stopped tinkering with the wires.
“Lucy . . .?”
“Yes?”
“You have your finger in my ear.”
“Oh, is that your ear?” Lucy was too embarrassed to defend herself. But then, thank God, fiery indignation came to her re
scue.
“How did you know?” She set the flashlight down on the counter with a clunk. The man was impossible. Let him hold his own flashlight. She was leaving.
She heard noises, the control panel door slamming shut, a screwdriver hitting the floor, but she ignored it all. She was headed out of the laundry room when he caught her and turned her around. Once again he backed her to the door and pinned her there, but this time it was with the force of his gaze. And this time she let him.
Confetti. Her stomach was a blizzard.
No shivering, she told herself. No gooseflesh. None.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“I’m getting out of your way. God forbid I break your concentration again.”
“So you want to give me a massage?” A telltale roughness had sneaked into his voice.
“Uh . . . yes, sure.”
“How badly?”
Not certain where this was going, she said, “Very badly?”
He took a deep breath. “What’s this all about, Lucy?”
“Nothing, I was trying to be helpful.”
“And you’re trying to help me with what?”
Her flashlight must have fallen to the floor, but its beam ricocheted against the ceiling, throwing ghostly shadows.
“What’s going on?” he pressed. “I’m trying to figure out what you want.”
“N-nothing.” She had to tell the truth. Her throat was drying up, and soon she wouldn’t be able to talk at all. “I just wanted to get your attention.”
“You have my attention. Now what are you going to do with it?”
She chewed on her lip. “Ask you a question?”
“Like?”
“Like when can we turn the lights back on?”
“Anytime you want. All I have to do now is flip the main breaker.”
“Oh, that’s great. Thank you. I really appreciate—”
“Lucy, do you want me to go or do you want me to stay?”
“Excuse me?”
“My neck, it’s tight. I could use that massage.”
She shrugged. “I’m really not that great at massages. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been messing with your ear, right?”
“Go or stay?”
She wanted him to stay. “Go.”
He stepped back, and she was gripped with déjà vu. She’d done it again. He was leaving. Any opportunity of finding out what could have happened between them on this bizarre night was lost. He was leaving, and she wanted him to. He had to leave. It was crucial that he did, and yet confusion racked her. What did she want? Disappointment cut through any relief she might have felt. She wasn’t glad to see him go, but she ought to be.
This is how it has to be, Lucy. This is the life you’ve chosen. One without storms.
She was still arguing with herself when he turned on the main breaker, and the condo sprang to life.
She tried to thank him, but he shrugged it off. “Not a problem.”
The flashlight lay on the floor at her feet. They both reached for it at once, their bare arms brushing. Lucy expected a shock, but all she could feel was heat and hard muscle. There was no give to this man, even in his forearm. She didn’t know if that was good or bad.
“I could let myself out,” he suggested. “The way I came in?”
“No, come with me. The front door is closer.” That wasn’t precisely true, but she couldn’t let him disappear yet. He wasn’t coming back. The living room was dark as they entered, except for the brightly burning candles. She hadn’t turned on any lights in there.
“Let’s see if the porch light works,” he said as they reached the front door.
Lucy couldn’t think of any way to delay the inevitable. Silently she watched him open the door and then flip the switch. She started toward him, but what happened in the next split second froze her where she stood. A crackling sound filled the room. Sparks shot from the switch, followed by puffs of black smoke.
Lucy screamed as an explosion rattled the room, jolting Noah backward. He hit a small hassock on wheels that flew out from under him and threw him to the ground.
She couldn’t move fast enough. He was out cold when she dropped to her knees beside him. “Noah! Oh, my God.”
He had a pulse, but he didn’t appear to be breathing. Terrified, she ran for the kitchen phone and found it dead. She couldn’t find her cell in the darkness of the bedroom, and she knew there wasn’t time to go back for a candle and continue searching. She had to get him breathing again.
She raced back to the living room, rolled him onto his back with great effort, and ripped open his work shirt. Buttons flew everywhere. As she unbuckled his tool belt, his words from last night flashed into her head. I’d bet this belt on us, Lucy. If we don’t have something, call it chemistry—
She forced his voice out of her thoughts and concentrated on getting his jeans undone. She had no personal experience with CPR, but she’d seen it done on countless TV shows, and the rescue people always cleared the victim’s air passage before they started CPR.
She opened his mouth and probed with her finger, but found nothing. Was he breathing? It was impossible to tell. His head rolled back, and she pressed her lips to his, blowing deeply enough to force air into his lungs. She held off a few seconds and blew again, continuing until she thought she felt him stir.
The sound he made could have been a cough, and his chest began to move.
Lucy wanted to scream for joy, but she kept going. Warm air streamed from his nostrils, but he still hadn’t come to. Seconds passed, and it occurred to her to check his pulse again, but she couldn’t find the beat this time.
Praying that he wouldn’t stop breathing, she straddled him and began to push on his chest. Was she doing this right? Dear God, she needed help. How did she get his heart going and keep him breathing at the same time? She was just about to abandon her efforts and go search for the cell phone, when she thought she felt him stir.
“Noah?” she implored, leaning over him. “Please wake up, oh, please. I’ll do anything!”
Chapter Seven
PLEASE, Noah, please, I’ll do anything. . . .
Noah heard the woman’s whispering voice and figured he had to be dreaming. But it was one hell of a dream. Somebody was touching him, kissing him, and pressing her hands to his chest, and it had to be her, the one who was whispering. When he tried to open his eyes all he could see was a beautiful blur. But it actually looked like the blur was sitting on him. She was straddling him, and he could feel her weight, her legs. Her hot, soft skin.
Was she naked? Was he?
God, what a dream. Now she was beating him with her fists, melting all over him in some crazy state of passion.
“Come on, Noah. Come on! Do it with me.” She gripped his face and pressed her lips to his. Her breath rushed into him and then she broke away with a little sob of anguish. She was fiery hot all over, writhing and squirming.
“Do it,” she pleaded, “give me something! Breathe with me.”
His eyelids were too heavy to move. He couldn’t open them enough to see more than a bobbing feminine silhouette, but he didn’t have to imagine her naked body. He could feel it—the inside of her clinging thighs, the moist heat between her legs, the silky curls that caressed him whenever she moved. She was sitting on him, and she was naked.
Breathe must be a code word for making love, and it sounded like she desperately wanted him to do just that. Apparently she’d roused him from sleep for that reason, but he wasn’t sure he could help her. His body was heavy and unresponsive. He found it hard to move a muscle. Except that one, which she’d had no trouble awakening. Already it was stirring, swelling, taking on a will of its own, and with each surge of energy, the pressure built. He wasn’t naked. He was definitely wearing pants because it felt damn crowded down there, like seams were about to split.
Desire flared as she kissed him again, begged him again. He was waking up now. The tingling life that had invaded his groin raced through his enti
re body, and it felt incredible, although it didn’t completely mask other sensations. For some reason, his shoulder ached, and his butt felt like someone had given him a good swift kick. It also felt like he was lying on the floor, which was odd. Then again, maybe not, given his dream lover’s wild streak.
Little fires seemed to be flickering all around him, only he couldn’t tell what they were. Gradually he realized he was in a darkened room, lit by a forest of candles. They were everywhere, like fireflies in the night. Even in his groggy state, he knew that candles meant romance and sensuality. The woman wanted to make love, no doubt about that. If this was a dream, he was going to make the most of it.
Once he was free of the jeans, they could drive each other as nuts as she was driving him now. He ached to touch her with his hands. When he’d had his fill of her soft flesh and lush curves—if that was possible—he would coax her to take him just the way she was now, sitting astride him like Lady Godiva. God, what pleasure. His mind could barely contain it. After that, he would roll her over, and they would take their sweet time, whispering and kissing, their bodies resonating with the pleasure they could give one another.
He wondered if he had the willpower to slow everything down. In this heated rush of passion, it seemed decadent to casually brush his mouth over hers and watch her lids quiver, her breath catch. But that was exactly what he wanted, to let his lips wander over every delicate part of her, especially the secrets between her legs. What a thrill to watch those silken ruffles quiver and catch.
His fingers were hot, tingling with energy. He was coming awake, alive. He found her feet, which were tucked alongside his hips, and he began to explore them. Her legs were smooth and inviting. They coaxed him to follow their sinuous contours, but soon he was delving under a canopy of soft material.
So she wasn’t naked. She wore some kind of small white tent, but he could change that. Beauty like this should be exposed to the night, the fireflies, the heavens.
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