Page 47 of Captivated
“Hatchback?” Nash asked between bites.
“I believe so.”
“I like to get a clear visual.” He grinned. “Don’t stop now. I can see it. Exterior scene, night. The parked car on a dark, lonely road. The two sweethearts entwined, stealing desperate kisses as the radio sings out with the theme fromA Summer Place.”
“I believe it was ‘Hotel California,’” she corrected.
“Okay. Then the last guitar riff fades....”
“I’m afraid that’s about it. He went to Berkeley in the fall, and I went to Radcliffe. Height and a nice pair of lips just wasn’t enough to keep my heart involved at a distance of three thousand miles.”
Nash sighed for all men. “‘Frailty, thy name is woman.’”
“I believe Joe recovered admirably. He married an economics major and moved to St. Louis. At last count, they’d produced three-fifths of their own basketball team.”
“Good old Joe.”
This time Morgana refilled the glasses. “How about you?”
“I never played much ball.”
“I was talking about high school sweethearts.”
“Oh.” He leaned back, enjoying the moment—the fire crackling at his back, the woman smiling at him through the candlelight, the good-natured fizz of champagne in his head. “She was Vicki—with ani. A cheerleader.”
“What else?” Morgana agreed.
“I mooned over her for nearly two months before I worked up the courage to ask her out. I was shy.”
Morgana smiled over the rim of her glass. “Tell me something I can believe.”
“No, really. I’d transferred in the middle of junior year. By that time all the groups and cliques are so firmly established it took a crowbar to break them up. You’re odd man out, so you spend a lot of time watching and imagining.”
She felt a stirring of sympathy, but she wasn’t sure he’d welcome it. “And you spent time watching Vicki with ani.”
“I spent a whole lot of time watching Vicki. Felt like decades. The first time I saw her do a C jump, I was in love.” He paused to study Morgana. “Were you a cheerleader?”
“No. Sorry.”
“Too bad. I still get palpitations watching C jumps. Anyway, I finally sweated up the nerve to ask her to the movies. It wasFriday the 13th.The movie, not the date. While Jason was hacking away at the very unhappy campers, I made a fumbling pass. Vicki received. We were an item for the rest of the school year. Then she dumped me for this hood with a motorcycle and a tattoo.”
“The hussy.”
Shrugging philosophically, he polished off his lobster. “I heard she eloped with him and they went to live in a trailer park in El Paso. Which is no more than she deserved after breaking my heart.”
Tilting her head, Morgana gave him a narrowed look. “I think you made it up.”
“Only part of it.” He didn’t like to talk about his past, not with anyone. To distract her, he rose and changedthe music. Now it was slow, dreamy Gershwin. Coming back to the table, he took her hand to draw her to her feet. “I want to hold you,” he said simply.
Morgana moved easily into his arms and let him lead. At first they merely swayed to the music, his arms around her waist, hers around his neck, their eyes on each other’s. Then he guided her into a dance so that their bodies flowed together to the low throb of the music.
He wondered if he would always think of her in candlelight. It suited her so well. That creamy Irish skin glowed as fragilely as the rose-tipped china. Her hair, black as the night that deepened beyond the windows, was showered with little stars of light. There were more stars in her eyes, sprinkled like moondust over the deep midnight blue.
The first kiss was quiet, a soft meeting of lips that promised more. That promised anything that could be wished. He felt the champagne spin in his head as he lowered his mouth to hers again, as her lips parted beneath his like the petals of a rose.
Her fingers glided silkily along his neck, teasing nerves to the surface. A low moan sounded in her throat, a moan that had his blood humming in response. Her body moved against his as she deepened the kiss. Her eyes remained open, drawing him in.
He slid his hands up her back, aroused by her quick shudder of response. Watching her, wanting her, he tugged the band from the end of her braid, combing tensed fingers through to loosen the intricate coils. He could hear her breath catch, see her eyes darken, as he dragged her head back and plundered that wide, unpainted mouth.
