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Chaz didn’t nibble at the bait. In fact, he didn’t even seem to notice he was being flirted with. “I probably shoulda crashed, but I was in need of some American holiday fun. There’s not a single piece of candy corn in Pakistan. So I decided to come out to combat the jet lag.”
“And eat candy corn?” Lulu asked, unhappy Viv was working her vixen magic on her old friend. Well, her old something.
“Exactly. Have any on you?”
“I’m all out. I guess you’ll have to trick-or-treat through the neighborhood on your way home.”
“I forgot my sack.”
“Then you’re just out of luck.”
He sighed. “Day late and a treat short. Story of my life.”
Yeah. Because of mean girls who stole his candy bars.
She didn’t bring that up, though. No point reminding him of her antics if there was any chance in hell he’d forgotten them.
As if. That’d be like Batman forgetting the Joker’s antics. Once an arch nemesis, always an arch nemesis.
Not that she’d ever really considered Chaz her nemesis, arch or otherwise. But he might have one or two reasons to think she was. Including a crooked tailbone.
“Well, pull up a chair and join us,” said Viv, scooting over to make room for him. She cast Lulu a piercing look, waiting for her to officially introduce them.
She was about to, but he cut her off.
“Actually, I just wanted to see if you’d like to dance,” he said, staring down at Lulu, his gaze wavering between friendly and intense. She had to wonder if he, too, had been shocked by the changes nine years had wrought. She didn’t much resemble the stringy-haired, braces-wearing seventeen-year-old he probably remembered from his high school graduation party. The one when she’d pushed him into the swimming pool, fully clothed, because he’d called her flat-chested.
To be fair, she had been a late bloomer. Of course, he hadn’t really needed to point that out in front of all their friends and family.
She sat up a little straighter and thrust that no-longer-flat chest out the tiniest bit.
His gaze shifted. He noticed. She noticed him noticing.
“Well?” he asked, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “What do you say?”
“Uh...you really want to dance? With me?”
She was pretty sure the only time they’d ever danced together was when they’d had to be square-dancing partners in gym class in middle school. It hadn’t gone well. Holding hands with Chaz had been way too weird for her twelve-year-old self. Her hands had gotten sweaty, her breath short, and she’d had the strangest fluttering in her stomach.
She now suspected what the sweating and fluttering had been all about. She had liked Chaz’s blushes, despite what she’d said to her mother. But back then, never wanting to admit such a thing, she’d convinced herself that holding hands with Chaz Browning was enough to make her want to throw up.
So she’d done what any bratty twelve-year-old would do. She’d stuck out her foot and tripped him during their do-si-do.
Little bitch.
“You know how to dance, right?” Another green twinkle—how had she never noticed he had the most interesting golden streaks that cut through the irises, looking like starbursts? “I mean, it’s pretty easy—you just try to find the beat in the music and move around to it.”
She licked her lips, hearing the band finishing “Time Warp,” which immediately made her think of pelvic thrusts—not something she should be thinking about when it came to Chaz. Luckily the musicians segued right into a torchy version of “Witchcraft.” That somehow seemed appropriate, given her costume, and the fact that she felt as if someone had cast a spell on her. The song was slower, jazzier, and would necessitate close-up dancing, with hands and bodies in direct contact. And though her mind decided that was even riskier than pelvic thrusts, her legs launched her out of her chair immediately.
“Sure.”
She let him take her hand and pull her toward the crowded dance floor. When he grabbed her hips and pulled her close, she swallowed hard, trying to maintain her smile. Could he feel her crazily-beating heart or see the way her pulse thrummed in her throat? And was there any way in hell he didn’t know that some of her most female parts were standing at attention as their bodies brushed together?
Lulu waited for him to say something—Welcome to D.C., How’s the new place?, How are your folks? But he remained silent, merely moving his thigh between her legs as they swayed.
Lord have mercy. Though she’d often imagined having Chaz’s throat between her hands so she could strangle him for saying something that totally pissed her off, she’d never fantasized about having any part of him between her thighs.
He’d been gone from her life before she’d realized stomach flutters and thigh clenching were definite signs of lust.
But now her body was reacting to him in a way she’d never allowed her mind to. There was no mistaking her reaction for anything except excitement. Her palms were sweating and her whole body felt hot and sticky, as though if she didn’t get her clothes off, she would melt right into a puddle of want in the middle of the dance floor.
God, he was so big and strong compared to the boy she’d known. Powerful, male, appealing enough to stop hearts. His chest was so broad it could be used as a life raft. She couldn’t help twining her fingers in his longish hair, tousled from the sheet, shaggy from a few months’ travel.
The truth slammed into her, hard and life-changing.
She wanted him. Badly. Lulu wanted to go to bed with Chaz Browning and see if all the years of angry tension between them could be erased by erotic tension.
If only he were some random guy she’d just met, and the baggage of an entire childhood of fighting and competing, not to mention family drama, didn’t stand between them. If only he were just a sexy stranger like Schaefer, albeit one with charm, easy wit and personality.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t a stranger. Despite how closely he held her, Chaz couldn’t possibly have forgotten her childhood shenanigans and his own disdain toward her. There was no way he’d look at her as anything but the bane of his youth and the scorn of his adulthood. Plus there was the family-connection burden of looking after her. His email had said he’d promised his mom he’d do exactly that once he was back in the country, like she was some high schooler on a field trip to the big bad city. An inconvenience. A brat.
No, anything remotely resembling a sexual connection between her and Chaz was simply out of the question. She was just going to have to go home and get cozy with her vibrator, or say to hell with it and bang the boring guitar player. Anything to avoid letting Chaz realize he’d affected her so deeply. That would be worse than the sweaty hands/square dancing incident.
“The music’s good tonight,” he finally said. “Schaefer and his band have improved since the last time I heard them play.”
“You know him?”
“Yeah, he’s sort of a regular in the neighborhood and he was a soloist for a while. But he was a bit of a hippie. He’d get into trouble, sneaking out of upbeat background music and into some depressing, sixties, psychedelic-mushroom ballad once in a while. Talk about a mood killer. The bar owners threatened to ban him.”
“Do you know his first name?”
Chaz grinned. “I do.”
“What is it?”
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you. He made me promise.”
“Must be a doozy.”
He nodded slowly. “Let’s just say...it’s appropriate.”
“Can’t I bribe it out of you?”
“What’ll you give me?”
“All the Tootsie Rolls from my goodie bag?”
“I’m not interested in candy,” he told her, that half smile lingering on a mouth so kissable it made her own go dry.
“I thought you were jonesing for candy corn.”
“Maybe I’d rather taste something else sweet.”
Whoa. The twinkle in his eye and the flash of that dimple took the light comment and brought it up to flirtatious—maybe even suggestive—level. It was totally unlike anything he’d ever said to her. She had to wonder how many drinks he’d had, or if he’d been drinking them on an empty, jet-lagged stomach. She just didn’t believe a sober Chaz would’ve made that kind of comment—not to her, anyway.
“Like what?” she asked, her tone just as flirty and suggestive, calling his bluff. She knew he’d put a stop to the conversation any second, but couldn’t deny she was having fun while it lasted.
“That drink left your lips looking very red and delicious.”
Good God, was he going to kiss her? The way his gaze focused in on her face said he was considering it, and her heart pounded in her chest. It was crazy. They hadn’t even played doctor as kids, much less snuck even the most innocent of kisses. But he was eyeing her mouth as if he was parched and needed to positively drink from her.
“I have to admit, this conversation is taking me by surprise,” she said, hearing the breathiness in her own voice and wondering what he would make of it.
“You can’t be surprised that I think you’re beautiful.”
“I most certainly am,” she said with a forced smile. Chaz, the boy who’d once called her a soul-sucking leech, thought she was beautiful?
Yeah. He had to be drunk.
“Every man here thinks it,” he said, sounding totally serious. “I saw you the minute I walked in and couldn’t take my eyes off you.” Glancing down at her body, he smiled wickedly. “You surprised me. I always assumed witches were old and ugly.”
“Only bad witches are ugly,” she pointed out, catching his Wizard of Oz reference.
“And you’re a very good witch?”
“Some would debate that. Maybe I’m a little of both.”
“Which witch are you tonight?”
“Which witch do you hope I am?”
His green eyes glittered under the dance floor lights. “Maybe a little of both.”
Hmm.
“Just remind me not to drop a house on you.”
“Or douse me with water,” she said with a grin, liking how easy they were with each other. Old friends flirting a little, reminiscing a little. Because they were both exploring a shared memory.
It had been her eleventh Halloween. She’d wanted to be a Spice Girl, but in a repetition of the Sailor Moon fiasco, of course the boys wouldn’t go for what she wanted, so they’d all done a Wizard of Oz thing. Chaz had been the Scarecrow, Lawrence, her brother, the Tin Man, her dog was Toto, and Chaz’s dog was the Cowardly Lion. Only, as if he understood his role and wasn’t happy about being labeled a coward, the ornery beagle had wriggled out of his lion mane and hidden it in his doghouse before they’d even started trick-or-treating.
As for the rest...well, of course Sarah had been Dorothy and Lulu had been the Wicked Witch of the West. Complete with green flour paste all over her face, a scraggly wig, horrific hat and butt-ugly dress. Not exactly the Posh Spice she’d pictured.
She was pretty sure Sarah was the one who’d gotten raisins in place of chocolate bars that year. Hell, maybe all of them had.
“One thing’s for sure, I don’t ever remember witches wearing black leather bustiers,” he said.
“Or spider-web patterned tights?” she said with an eyebrow wag. She so loved the tights.
“The skirt and those heels don’t hurt, either.”
Yeah, most witches probably didn’t wear flouncy, lacy black miniskirts, or screw-me shoes with silver chains around the ankles. All of which she’d donned to attract a guy who now held absolutely no interest for her, and which had instead drawn the eye of one she’d known forever, but had never really allowed herself to see until now. Strange, strange world.
“Back to the point. I noticed you, and then you smiled at me.”
Yes, she had. A big, friendly, please-don’t-figure-out-what-I’ve-been-thinking smile. “So I did.”
“You have an amazing smile. Welcoming and uninhibited.”
His tone was sincere, his eyes gleaming with something she couldn’t quite place. Tenderness? Maybe that. Chaz had always had a nice, tender streak, which other kids had tried to crush. Her included, on occasion.
“When I saw that gorgeous smile, and realized it was directed at me, I figured you felt it, too.”
“Felt what?” Right now all she felt was dazed by words she’d never expected to hear from him of all people.
He lifted a hand and dragged it through a long strand of her glittery, red-dyed hair, rubbing it lightly, then twining it in his fingers. “Attraction. Heat.”
His bluntness shocked her. “Are you serious?”
“Completely.”
She couldn’t speak, honestly could not find a word to say.
“I’ve surprised you again?”
Nodding slowly, she admitted, “Just a bit.”
“Sorry. I’ve been out of the country too long. I’ve lost my manners and forgotten how this game’s supposed to be played.”
“Are we playing a game?”
“Oh, yeah.”
He breathed deeply to inhale the scent of her hair, and lightly, oh, so lightly, kissed her temple, just above the edge of the mask.
She managed to stay upright at this first-ever kiss between them, even though worlds rocked and tides changed and planets skipped out of orbit at the brush of his lips on her skin.
Every instinct she owned was telling her that this wasn’t Chaz, that he’d been replaced by a doppelgänger who didn’t hate her, who saw her as the sensual woman she’d become and not the mean-spirited kid he’d once known. What other explanation was there? A dream?
This is really happening, isn’t it?
“What kind of game?” she finally asked.
Another brush of soft lips on her pulse point, then he inhaled deeply, as if imprinting her scent on his memory. “The kind that ends with us in bed.”
“Holy shit.”
He laughed. “Shocked you that time, huh?”
