Part 17 (1/2)
”I have a stepfather. He raised me, but weare estranged.”
”b.u.mmer.” Rick c.o.c.ked his head. ”Or not?”
”I donat know. All my life heas been such an a.s.shole, but I havenat spoken to him for two years, and I sort of miss him.” She blinked in surprise. She didnat know why shead said that. She hadnat even realized she thought such a thing. ”I think he might be lonely.”
”I know where youare coming from. My dad is an old-world disciplinarian, and I was always the wild child.” Rick offered the information easily, like a man who had no secrets to hide. ”When I was a teenager, I resented his always telling me to do the right thing, but now Iave done the wrong thing enough to realize that he wanted me to be a good man. When you do the wrong thing often enough, you turn evil.”
”Evil?” That took her aback. ”Thatas a harsh word.”
”Thatas what my father would call it. For him there is no gray, only black and white.”
She supposed immigrants had a different view of life.
”In fact, Iam going on from here to visit them.”
”A family gathering?”
”They donat know Iam coming. Iam going to surprise them.” He smiled, but it wasnat his usual open, easy smile. This one was a little twisted, a little pained.
She probably looked exactly the same when she talked about Jackson Sonnet.
”You should come with me,” he said impulsively.
At least, she supposed it was an impulse. ”What? Why?”
He sighed. ”Because my fatheras going to nag at me. I can hear him now. aAdrik, youare almost thirty-three years old. What? You donat even have a girlfriend? You should be married. You should have babies.a ”
Karen started to laugh.
He watched her glumly. ”Oh, sure. You think itas funny.”
”I think youare grabbing at straws.”
”But what a lovely straw you are.”
They smiled at each other in perfect accord.
”So, Adrik is your real name?”
”A name from the Old Country.”
On impulse, she said, ”Would you like to walk me to my cottage?”
”I would like nothing more.” He took her hand and pulled her from the dance floor.
”Now?” She hadnat meant now.
He stopped by the doors. ”My darling events coordinator, the guests are headed for the midnight buffet. Mrs. Burstrom is giving us the glad-eye. And if I stay here much longer, Iall be good for nothing but a bout of loud snoring.”
”What do you think I want you to do in my cottage?”
”Have a drink while we whine about our parents.”
”In that case . . .” She took his hand and led him outside.
He made it so easy for her. There was no pressure. She knew she was doing the right thing, using him to flush Warlord out of her mind.
As soon as they stepped off the patio he stopped her and kissed her cheek, then slid his lips along her jawline and down her throat.
People saw them. Women saw them. And the gusting sighs almost blew Karen off her feet.
Yet the kiss was so sweet, so gentle, Karen could do no more than chuckle and run her fingers through the pelt of his dark hair. ”Do you know you just made me the envy of every woman here?”
He wrapped his arm around her waist and led her down the path toward her cottage. ”No, I just made myself the envy of every man here.”
In some distant portion of her mind, she realized he was saying exactly the right thing.
But so few men bothered. She had to give him points for that. And points for finding out where her cottage was . . . That made her steps falter.
”How do you know where to go?”
He looked indignant. ”Do you think after that encounter with the security guard last night, and seeing those lights on the canyon rim, that I would let you walk to your cottage without watching to make sure you got home safely?”
He was a sweetie. Such a sweetie. Mr. Burstrom had given her the thumbs-up as they left the ballroom, and Mrs. Burstrom had looked positively mushy.
Karen stopped and lightly kissed his lips.
He kissed her forehead and leaned his cheek against the top of her head.
She snuggled close. They walked in tandem along the path.
Taking her key, he unlocked the door.
The whole situation was so normal, like an everyday date with everyday people who might or might not go to bed together, and she would not think of Warlord or slave bracelets or men who were condemned by an ancient deal with the devil. . . .
She opened the door. The lamp shead left on gleamed in a stream of light. A whisper of a breeze filled the air with the fragrance of mesquite, a gift from the window shead left slightly open. She gestured him inside. ”Would you like a drink?”
”No. What I would like . . . is you.”
Since the day shead walked out on Warlord without a backward glance, she hadnat wanted a man. But she wanted this man. She didnat understand what combination of body and spirit, sinew and soul made him attractive to her, but she wasnat afraid. There was nothing about this man that spoke of possessiveness, of the mad need to hold her captive. He seemed like the kind of guy who would dance a dance, take his pleasure, and be on his way.
And that was just what she wanted.
She pushed the door closed behind him.
This was not a man of earth and air, fire and magic, but a completely normal guy who danced with women in the hopes of getting in their pants. And while shead never been much for quick and easy couplings in collegea”the little experimentation in which shead indulged had convinced her that casual s.e.x was just, well, casual, and her time was better spent reading or working out or even studyinga” right now, casual s.e.x was just what the doctor ordered.