by Zoe Chant
This time her arms came up around his neck, and her mouth opened under his, and he drowned.
She was stronger than she looked, and her lips were sweet and alive.
All of her curves were perfect, under his hands, and she was kissing him back with all the passion he’d known was lurking under her demure facade.
She was his.
Damien kissed down the side of her neck, pulling her close up against him and couldn’t resist nibbling and growling, just a little. He needed her, desire swelling through him.
“My Tawny,” he said, finding the buttons of her blouse.
“Wait, wait...” Tawny was panting, and her mouth was swollen. “What are we doing?”
“I’m making love to you,” Damien said firmly.
“No,” Tawny protested. “I mean, I’d figured that much out, but what we doing? What... is this?”
She felt it, Damien thought. She felt the mate pull even as a human. “Tawny, you are for me. I knew from the moment I saw you that you would make me happier than anyone else in the world ever could.”
Tawny stared at him, her breath still ragged. “I’m not sure what to say to that,” she finally confessed.
Damien bent to kiss her, but she pulled back reluctantly. “Damien,” she said slowly. “I... like you.”
“I love you,” Damien said promptly.
Tawny laughed at him.
He must have scowled, because she leaned forward and patted his arm like he was a pouting child. “Damien,” she said gently. “I like you a lot. But we just met, and it’s... been a long time, and I want to take it slow.”
Damien had no interest in taking it slow, and his lion had even less. He wanted to claim her, now, undress her and lay her down and make her cry his name in pleasure.
But her warm brown eyes were looking at him expectantly, and Damien wrestled himself back under control. He could be patient. He could court her the way she deserved. “Of course,” he said graciously. “Tawny, may I kiss you?”
She gave a little noise that might have been excitement or protest, and he added, “Just a kiss.”
When she nodded, he enfolded her in his arms again and lay his mouth on hers.
This time he kissed her slowly, deliberately, pulling her close and holding either side of her face in his hands.
He left her breathless and trembling, almost incapable of standing. “I’ll bring Trevor to his piano lesson tomorrow,” he said. “Would you be interested in showing me around Green Valley afterwards?”
“I... yes,” Tawny said, dazed. She cleared her throat. “Trevor is my last lesson and that sounds lovely.”
Damien smiled at her. “Tomorrow, then.”
She walked him to the door, hands nervous, and tipped her head up for a kiss on the porch that Damien was happy to give her.
“Good night, Tawny,” Damien told her, brushing her lips.
She sighed into his kiss, then took his face in her hands and said the unthinkable: “Have you ever considered shaving off your beard?”
“I have had a beard since high school,” he said with a frown. She didn’t like the beard? Damien looked down at her in consternation. “I cannot imagine not having one.”
Tawny had clearly realized her misstep, and said swiftly, “It’s a beautiful beard. Forget I said anything.”
Damien did not forget things. But he could forgive anything from Tawny’s earnest face, and he gave her one final, gentle kiss on the cheek. “Good night, Tawny.”
“Good night,” Tawny echoed.
Then Damien was back outside her gate wondering which way to go to get back to Shaun’s house, because he hadn’t paid the slightest attention on the walk over.
Chapter 9
She was an idiot, Tawny decided, looking in the mirror the next morning.
What on earth had possessed her to tell Damien she wanted to take it slow? She hadn’t wanted to take it slow, she wanted to drag him into her bedroom and find out what those shoulders looked like without a shirt over them. She wanted to feel the weight of him, the heat of him...
Tawny swallowed and made herself stop following that train of thought. She was going to need another shower—a cold shower—if she couldn’t demonstrate some self control.
She certainly didn’t look much different than she had the day before.
She didn’t look like she’d been kissed dizzy by a gorgeous billionaire in her front room.
She still looked boring, with her short, frizzy white hair, and her weathered face, and her short, plump, ordinary body.
She looked... retired.
If it weren’t for the slight rash around her mouth, she might not have believed that it happened.
“I love you,” he’d said, as if it were perfectly normal.
But Tawny didn’t believe in love at first sight. She was too practical to think that it would happen to her. Especially with someone like Damien, who could snap his fingers and have gorgeous women falling all over him. Gorgeous, young women.
She should have said yes the night before, before he came to his senses and overcame whatever bizarre fascination he’d briefly had for her.
Lady Gray gave a grouchy meow from the bathroom door and Tawny sighed. She needed to get dressed before the first piano students arrived, not rhapsodize over memories that seemed more and more impossible the more she thought about them.
Lessons were particularly agonizing that morning; her students seemed less prepared than usual, and Tawny cared a great deal less. She watched them play scales and thought about Damien’s hands. She listened to them stumble through sight-reading practice and thought about how Damien had looked at her. She corrected their posture and thought about how Damien’s arms had felt around her.
Finally, the last student before Trevor’s slot was fleeing from her living room, only pausing to snag a piece of chocolate from the treat jar by the door.
Tawny followed her to the porch and sat on the chair by the door. Lady Gray and Prints were nowhere to be seen; they rarely came out on lesson days and wouldn’t forgive her for inviting the trespasses on their territory until their dinner was served.
She would have liked Lady Gray’s sturdy warmth in her lap to make her feel less nervous. She would even have settled for having Prints lie on the porch railing next to her, pretending she didn’t exist but tolerating the occasional ear scratch.
The gate rattled and Tawny found herself on her feet before she could stop herself, smoothing down her blouse, wishing she’d done something more with her hair, maybe put on lipstick.
Damien was somehow even more handsome than she’d remembered, and Tawny blushed to remember the feel of his beard against her face.
Trevor clearly had no interest in being at piano lessons on such a beautiful day and Damien was all but frog-marching him up the walk.
“Good morning,” Tawny greeted them, hoping her nervousness didn’t show in her voice.
Damien poked Trevor in the side. “Good morning, Miss Tawny,” Trevor said with great reluctance.
“Good morning,” Damien said in his knee-weakening growl, and he flashed her a devious smile as he came up the steps. “Tawny, may I kiss you?”
Whatever greetings Tawny had expected, an offer for a kiss was not among them. She gave Trevor a hasty look, but the boy was already stomping past them into the living room.
“Yes,” she said shyly.
It was a swift, business-like kiss that managed to steal her breath in just that brief moment.
How many ways to kiss could there be? Tawny wondered in a daze.
At the moment, she was dying to find out.
Then Damien was slipping a small box out of his pocket. “I brought you something,” he said.
Tawny stared at it. “You... got me a present?”
“Just a token,” Damien said carelessly.
“You didn’t have to,” Tawny protested, as he put it in her hands.
“I wanted to,” Damien said. He looked smugly self-satisfied, as if he
was already convinced of her reaction.
Tawny’s hands trembled the tiniest bit as she opened the box, excited and surprised and a little alarmed by the gesture.
She gazed into the velvet box with growing consternation. She wanted to ask if they were real diamonds, but feared the question was insulting.
Damien supplied the answer anyway. “Those are diamonds, of course.”
It was a simple bracelet, Tawny supposed. If you didn’t realize that the sparkling gems were real diamonds. It must have cost a small fortune.
“Thank you,” she made herself say. “It’s beautiful.”
“For a beautiful woman,” Damien said extravagantly.
Tawny tried to keep her skepticism from showing and was glad when Trevor knocked something over in the living room with a crash. “Sorry!” the little boy hollered. “It’s okay!”
She smiled as naturally as she was able. “Let’s get to our lesson,” she said. She put the lid back onto the box and slipped it into her sweater pocket.
Chapter 10
Damien was pleased that Tawny looked so flustered at his arrival with Trevor, and even more pleased when she accepted his quick, no-nonsense kiss.
He resisted the temptation to turn it into more and gave her the bracelet he’d picked out for her instead.
Her reaction to it was rather less than he’d hoped.
She looked more stunned than flattered, and the gushing delight he’d expected was sadly missing. Her gratitude felt forced, and her smile looked strained. Damien frowned, wondering where the gift had gone wrong.
He strode to claim the most comfortable looking chair in the living room, casting a glance around for one of Tawny’s elusive cats. He had stopped at the little grocery store in town and found a bag of cat treats that assured him that it would win any feline.
He had opened it skeptically, and almost eaten it himself on the spot.
He couldn’t fail to win over Tawny’s aloof housemates so armed.
“Have you been practicing your intervals, Trevor?” Tawny asked.
“Yeah,” the boy said reluctantly, squirming on the bench.
“Then we’ll have good fun today,” Tawny said encouragingly. She took a seat beside him on the piano bench.
She started him doing a simple scale up and down the piano, correcting his posture and hand position gently. “That’s good,” she said approvingly. “Now we’re going to play a game, since you practiced.”
Damien’s phone rang and he apologized as he turned it off, noting that he had missed several other calls.
Tawny made Trevor cover his eyes and guess the intervals she played, then let him quiz her in return. Finally, Trevor played from a simple page of music, slowly and stuttering, with no sense of rhythm whatsoever.
“Excellent work!” Tawny encouraged him kindly. “Keep practicing this one, remember to count, and we’ll have it ready for the fall recital.”
“I don’t want to do a recital,” Trevor complained.
Damien cleared his throat, and earned a sulky look over the little boy’s shoulder.
“Okay,” Trevor agreed reluctantly.
“Take a treat on your way out,” Tawny reminded him. She folded up his notebook and music for him and stood up as Damien rose to his feet.
Trevor scrambled over the bench and bolted for the door, sensing freedom.
He paused at the gate when Damien waited for Tawny as she locked her front door.
“Miss Tawny’s coming with us?” he asked in confusion.
“Your grandfather asked me to show him around Green Valley,” Tawny said easily, tucking her keys into her purse. She looked serene and unruffled, but Damien, watching her, was keenly aware of the color in her cheeks, and the way she shyly didn’t quite meet his eyes.
“Let’s show him the playground!” Trevor said enthusiastically. “He can push me on the swings!”
Damien offered his elbow to Tawny. “This is Miss Tawny’s tour,” he said firmly to Trevor.
Tawny tucked her arm into the offered elbow, the touch of her hand sending a wave of warmth through Damien.
She smiled at Trevor peacefully. “The playground is as good a place to start as any.”
Trevor led the way, pelting down the sidewalk ahead of them.
Spring sunshine beat down on the wide streets, dappling through scattered trees.
“Do you have plans for the afternoon?” Damien asked.
“I was hoping to get my starts transplanted today,” Tawny said. “It’s a little early, but the forecast looks warm, so hopefully we’re passed the frost risk.”
Damien nodded sagely. “A little early, I suppose,” he agreed gravely.
“You haven’t got the faintest interest in gardening,” Tawny guessed.
“I like some of the things that come out of gardens,” Damien offered in return.
“What do you do for fun?” Tawny asked him.
Damien blinked at her. “I like fishing,” he told her.
Tawny’s face suggested it was not an interest that they shared.
“Do you like reading?” she attempted.
“A little,” Damien agreed, thinking of the crowded bookshelves that had lined Tawny’s house. “I enjoy a good mystery.”
“Agatha?” Tawny said hopefully.
“Grisham,” Damien countered.
“Ah,” Tawny said. “I like lighter work, but I’ve read a few of his. A Time to Kill was excellent.”
They chatted about books for a while as they walked. “You should drop in at our book club,” she suggested slyly. “We meet Monday evenings, and our book this week is Farenheit 451.”
To his own surprise, Damien did not immediately come up with an excuse not to attend. “I would love to,” he said instead. “I haven’t read it since high school, but I’m sure I could get an ebook copy of it and brush up.”
Tawny seemed to take pity on him. “You don’t have to come to my book club. It’s a bunch of crotchety old ladies who mostly share local gossip and swap casserole recipes. We’re honestly lucky if we talk about the book at all.”
“I am in dreadful need of more casserole recipes,” Damien said with a straight face. “Though I’m pretty sure that most of the local gossip is about me this week, dumping a plate of food on you and making a kid cry.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Tawny teased him back. “Marta’s cousin had a mole removed this week. That might trump the crying child and meatball stain.”
“Hmm,” Damien said thoughtfully. “I see the bar is high. Next time I’ll have to dump an entire soup tureen on you.”
“Please don’t,” Tawny said, laughing.
“Hurry uuuuuup!” Trevor called, nearly a block away.
“Wait at the intersection!” Tawny told him in return.
Not that there was traffic to worry about. There were a few cars parked in driveways and at curbs, and Damien could hear a vehicle somewhere a few blocks away, but for the most part, the town was quiet.
They caught up with Trevor at the corner and he took Damien’s hand and all but dragged them across.
“That’s the post office,” Tawny pointed out with a smile. “The playground is just past it, between the Catholic church and the grocery store.”
Across the intersection, Trevor let go of Damien’s hand and went streaking ahead. The sound of children playing could be heard just past the little gray post office.
“Do you miss it?”
“The Post Office?” Tawny confirmed. “Not a bit. I should get together for coffee with Johanna one of these days, because she was a great boss, but I’m not sorry to have my days to myself again. And it hasn’t exactly been boring,” she added, giving Damien a sideways glance.
“I keep threatening to retire,” Damien said thoughtfully as they came around the backside of the post office and the playground opened up in front of them. Trevor was already on the other side of the field, flinging himself, belly first, over a swing.
“What would you do?” Tawny ask
ed as they wandered across the field, weaving among big, colorfully painted tractor tires that a handful of kids were playing chase in.
Damien gave her a sideways look. “Move to the country, maybe. Attend book clubs and learn to garden.”
She met his eyes, her own face thoughtful and curious, but didn’t say anything.
“Cooooooome push me!” Trevor begged.
Tawny took her hand from Damien’s elbow—reluctantly, Damien thought with triumph—and went to sit in the swing next to Trevor.
Damien took off his jacket, sorry that Tawny’s back was to him, and reminded Trevor to sit straight and hold on as he drew back the swing.
He pushed the boy with a tiny fraction of his shifter strength, sending him flying up into the air with shrieks of laughter. He wasn’t worried about Trevor holding on. The little boy may not realize that he was a shifter yet, but he was already developing the supernatural strength that his inner lion gave him.
He didn’t want to give Trevor away by testing his limits too obviously, so he pushed just hard enough that the boy laughed in delight.
Chapter 11
Tawny could not help but smile.
Damien was clearly having as much fun as Trevor was, and the little boy was yodeling his glee as his grandfather pushed him higher into the air.
The day was glorious, and the park was filled with sunshine and laughter.
Tawny let her feet trail through the pea gravel beneath her and tilted her head up into the sunlight. She would pay for not wearing her sunhat with new freckles, she feared, but the warmth of the sun felt delicious on her face.
“Hold on,” Damien suddenly said near her ear, and as Tawny squeaked in protest, he was suddenly drawing her swing back and giving her a steady push into the air.
Tawny was not sure when she had last been on a swing. At some point, you were supposed to accept that you were a dignified woman of advanced age who wasn’t supposed to do childish things like swing, and Tawny had always been very good about doing what she was supposed to.
She had been dutiful at putting away her youthful dreams and embracing her role as an old maid. She adopted cats and taught piano lessons to the neighborhood kids, chose conservative clothing, went to church on the holidays. She worked her safe job and lived in her safe town, and she learned not to yearn for things she couldn’t have.