MARRIAGE MATERIAL Page 10

  Tamara chuckled. "And Cody just told me that Curtis has Power Rangers."

  "Maybe they should trade," Lance said, taking her hand. He waved the other at Ty pointedly. "Bye now."

  Tamara looked up at Lance in surprise. If any other man had behaved this way, she would have sworn he was jealous. But Lance? He didn't strike her as a particularly jealous type.

  Ty leaned over and said something in Lance's ear. An odd, hard expression crossed Lance's face as Ty straightened. "Don't take him too seriously," Ty said to Tamara, and walked away before she could reply.

  "I think you have a fan," Lance said. His voice sounded tight. "I haven't heard him say three words to a woman since his wife died."

  Tamara looked at him, lacing her fingers more closely around his, liking the strength and power in them. "You know," she said with a smile, "you almost sound jealous."

  "You know what?" he said, leaning close, "I think I am." His expression showed puzzlement. "That's not usually my style."

  She didn't know what to say to that, but it gave her a quick, hopeful rush. Standing there in the unseasonably warm night, with wild colors staining the air, Tamara simply looked at him. "You keep surprising me," she said at last.

  "Yeah?" he said. "Does that mean you aren't going to be mean to me anymore?"

  Tamara laughed. "I don't know. Depends on how well you mind your manners."

  He lifted a wicked brow. "Ah, you wouldn't make me behave, would you? I'm so much better bad."

  She rolled her eyes. "Full of bad clichés, you mean."

  "Maybe." He grinned and tugged her hand. "Let's go find us some wild rides," he said, and wiggled that wicked brow one more time.

  In spite of herself, Tamara laughed, and let him lead her away.

  * * *

  Lance had not had so much fun in years. Literally. He forgot work, forgot his still-lingering grief, forgot everything.

  And as they rode one ride after another, Lance remembered why he'd always loved the carnival when he was a randy teenager with nothing but sex on his mind. In the small cars, spun by centrifugal force, Tamara's body was plastered against his most of the evening. It was a delicious, faintly sinful thing to slip his arm around her and feel the soft weight of a breast against his rib cage as the Teacup smeared her against him. She screamed and clutched him, and jumped off one ride only to want to go on the next.

  She looked absolutely dazzling tonight. Her dark hair gleamed and swung at her slim shoulders, and the fabric of her shirt clung nicely to her full round breasts and slim waist. The lines of strain had eased and she looked young and free and delectably sexy.

  Stumbling off a third thrill ride in a row, she said, "I think we need to do something tame and let my stomach calm down."

  Lance flung an arm around her shoulders. "I'm glad you said that, sugar, because I might have had to do an unmanly thing if we rode another one."

  "You should have said something!"

  "Oh, no. I can't let some girl be wilder than me."

  "How about the Ferris wheel?" she said, pointing.

  "We can do that."

  As they reached the line, however, Tyler, Louise and the boys joined them. "The kids are worn-out," Louise said.

  "Mommy," Cody said, "can I spent the night with Grandma? Me and Curtis?"

  Worry clouded Tamara's eyes. Lance bit his lip to keep from urging her to do something she wasn't comfortable with, but he wanted her to say yes. "Oh, I don't know."

  "I'd really like to have him," Louise said. "But if you like, I can take them with me and Lance can bring you around to pick him up when you're finished."

  Tamara wavered. "Are you sure you don't mind?"

  "Heavens, no!" She grinned at the children. "We're going to have a fire and a story."

  "Please can I spend the whole night? I like fires!"

  Tamara bit her lip. Lance wanted her to say yes, wanted to have the chance to put his hands on her, to maybe even make love, but the conflict was too deep. "I'll take you over there when we're done and you can see how he's doing," he said. "How about that?"

  She gave him a grateful smile: "Okay." She bent over and kissed Cody's head. "Be good, now."

  He flung his arms around her neck. "Thank you, Mommy!"

  As they walked away, Lance took Tamara's hand. "Do you still want to ride the Ferris wheel? Or can we go someplace a little quieter?"

  Fear flickered on her face, and Lance cursed himself for pushing. "Quieter? What do you mean?"

  "Never mind," he said with a smile. "Let's ride."

  They climbed into the car, and settled in, a new awkwardness between them. Lance didn't try to touch her as they moved around, stopping at intervals to allow other customers to be loaded in. At one point, the whole wheel made a low groaning. "What was that?" Tamara asked in alarm.

  "Just the machinery burping," he said, but his mechanic's ear wasn't quite sure. It sounded like a missed gear. When they came back around, he'd get them off. In the meantime, he didn't plan to worry her.

  "Look at that," he said, gesturing toward the lights of the town, spread out below them, and winking in isolated hollows between the trees. "I remember when you couldn't see anything but blackness up there on the mountain. It's like a fungus, spreading over the earth."

  She smiled. "You're the construction magnate," she said.

  The wheel gave a jerk and moved up one more notch, putting them a little past midway. Lance listened for, but did not hear, the odd grinding.

  Tamara made a soft noise and gripped the bar in front of them as the car swung faintly. "It's really high," she said breathlessly. "I haven't been on a Ferris wheel in a long time."

  "All those wild rides, and not a peep, and now the Ferris wheel scares you?" he teased.

  "Those others are all enclosed, and they just go fast or upside down."

  As slowly as possible, so the car wouldn't rock, he eased closer and put his arm around her. "You can hang on to me."

  Her body flowed into his, hip to hip. "Thanks."

  "Ah-ha—it's a ploy, isn't it? You want to ravish me," he joked.

  The car jerked upward, and Tamara clutched his leg with a fierce grip. This time the grinding sounded again, and Lance frowned. Definitely a skipped gear.

  "What is that? I don't think I want to stay on."

  Privately, Lance agreed. "It's nothing. I'm the engine guy, right?"

  "Yes." The word was tight and closed, and her grip on his leg had not eased at all.

  "Let me guess," he said. "You're afraid of heights."

  "Bingo." She laughed. The sound was whispery. "Isn't that ridiculous, for a woman raised in the mountains?"

  "Not at all. I read somewhere that vertigo is connected to inner-ear imbalances."

  The wheel jerked again, but only moved a half a foot. This time, Tamara moaned outright. "I'm really imbalanced then."

  Lance pulled her closer, wrapping both arms around her. She buried her face in his shoulder, and he could feel a faint trembling in her body.

  And he thanked the stars or God or whoever it was that had arranged this moment. High above the earth on a clear mountain night, with this woman pressed so close against him, he felt an odd sense of peace. Of disconnectedness to anything but her.

  The wheel jerked again, harder, and with a quick, stomach-wrenching movement, they sailed upward, maybe two positions. Then another. The car swung slightly, almost at the top. The wheel ground noisily, and Lance could see a crowd gathering, far below. He frowned when he realized the operator was unloading riders, rather than loading them on.

  "What's happening?" Tamara asked in a faint voice. Her face was pressed tightly into his shoulder.

  "We just have to get to the bottom and we'll get off." The worst that could happen was that the wheel would freeze. It wasn't as if the cars would come loose or anything of that nature. He was comforted by the fact that they were on the way down.

  Even if it was a long, long way yet.

  A shout came from below, and t
he wheel made a long, extremely loud grating noise. It moved one inch, maybe two. And stopped.

  By the cursing below, Lance knew they were in for a wait. He doubted it was anything serious, but he also doubted Tamara would take that news in stride.

  She lifted her head. "We're stuck, aren't we?"

  "'Fraid so."

  Her face was white. "I hope I don't have to be sick."

  "You won't," he said, and gently pulled her back into his arms. He stroked her back, and her arms, and felt her trembling begin to ease. Her breast pushed into his side, infinitely plump and soft, and Lance fought an image of her naked and pressed against him this way. His unruly member leapt to attention at the thought, and he shifted slightly to accommodate it.

  To distract himself—and her—he said, "So tell me about the last book you read."

  "The last book?" she echoed nervously. "Uh … Accounting Procedures."

  "No, not for school. For fun." Under his arms, she was rigid as a rock. "Surely you've read something interesting recently."

  She peeked over the edge. Her fingers dug almost painfully into his thigh.

  "Don't look down, sweetheart," he said. "Look at me. Let's just talk. They'll get us out of here safe and sound."

  With clear effort, she dragged her gaze upward, and focused on his face. "Why do I torture myself with high rides like this when I know heights make me sick?"

  He grinned. "You're a daredevil at heart?"

  A ghost of a smile touched her lips. "That must be it."

  Up close like this, her beautiful eyes full of fear and bravery in equal measures, with her thigh next to his, and her warm body nestled against his, she was more than any man with a lick of sense could resist. "So, what was the last book?"

  A frown wrinkled her brow for a moment. "Let's see … it must have been Alice Hoffman. It was a wolf story—I've been on a magical realism kick."

  He smiled. "That fits."

  "Oh?" She narrowed her eyes. "How so?"

  "You're a very practical woman, but I see that wish for things to be magical in you."

  "Are you a fan of those kinds of books?"

  "Me? Not really." He lifted a shoulder. "I don't have time to do a lot of reading, but I usually go for suspense or horror when I do."

  "Stephen King kinds of things?"

  "Sometimes. He has great characters, but Dean Koontz has better romance."

  She gave him an impish grin. "You like a little romance with your gore?"

  "Exactly."

  The Ferris wheel groaned, suddenly and loudly. Tamara jumped, her eyes flying to the ground. Instantly, she closed her eyes and took a breath. "What was the last classic you read?"

  Silently, Lance cheered her self-control. She was scared out of her mind, but she was handling it. "Must have been something in college. I don't do classics." He chuckled. "I know you're surprised."

  She looked at him. "Actually you do surprise me quite a lot."

  "Do I?" he asked huskily—and snagged a kiss. Just a quick, light one—and like an hors d'oeuvre, it only made him hungrier. "Like that?"

  "No. I'd expect you to steal kisses. I wouldn't expect you to read much of anything."

  "Everybody reads."

  She laughed. "Not hardly."

  "Well, in my family they do. We don't read the same things, now. Tyler is the only serious reader—the only one who feeds on literature and all that rot, but we all have our little corners of obsession. I can't sleep if I don't read for a little while."

  "Really?"

  He didn't know if he should be offended or not. Did he seem that stupid? He decided to let it go—the world was full of stereotypes about construction workers, and it was something he'd learned to live with. "My mother read to us every night before we went to sleep. It got to be a habit for all of us."

  "That's great." Her hand had at last eased a little on his thigh, and she felt brave enough she put both hands on the rail in front of them. "Where did you go to school?"

  "Rice. My dad wanted me to do Harvard or one of those big eastern schools, but I chose to go to Texas instead."

  "Rice?" she echoed, faintly disbelieving. "I wonder how I missed knowing that about you."

  This time, he could tease her. "You just think us pretty boys are only good for one thing. You forget about our brains."

  She didn't smile. It seemed, actually, to disturb her. "With an education like that, why did you stay in construction?"

  "That's easy. I love it." He gestured toward the mountain. "It causes me some conflicts sometimes, but there's a thrill in building things that I haven't found in anything else. You build something right and it can stand for centuries. Do it wrong, and it's an eyesore for even longer."

  "I never thought about it like that." She smiled. "That's beautiful."

  And even if it was what she expected, Lance couldn't resist. "So are you," he said, and kissed her again. This time, she kissed him back, eagerly, and he moved slowly to pull her close to him, cradling her head in the crook of his elbow, putting his hand under her jacket. "I love kissing you," he said.

  "I like it, too." She lifted a hand to his face. "It makes me feel alive." And this time, she drew him close to her and put her lips against his.

  Lance gave himself up to the spell she always cast over him. Gave himself up to the wild moment, trapped high in the night sky with this sweet and prickly woman. He moved his hand on her waist, restlessly, feeling a thick arousal burning through his groin. Slowly, giving her plenty of time to stop him, he moved his hand higher, brushing the lower edge of her breast.

  She only lifted a hand to his chest and tilted her head to give him deeper access to her mouth, and Lance lifted his hand and covered her breast, cloaked as it was in the soft cotton shirt.

  And he didn't know why he was surprised, but the flesh filled his hand exactly. He made a low sound at the discovery, and rubbed lightly across the nipple that nudged his palm. Her breath caught and she pulled away from his kiss.

  He didn't move his hand as her gaze and his met, and caught. Feeling unlike himself, he slowly stroked the rigid point through her shirt, watching the reaction in her eyes. Her pupils dilated, and her lips parted on a gasp as he plucked it a little.

  Her hand moved on his thigh, moved upward, barely teasing his erection through his jeans, and Lance kissed her again, unable to let her look into his eyes for fear of what he would reveal. With a soft groan, he moved his hand under her shirt, feeling electrified at the satiny texture of her skin. He explored a little, and moved back up, knowing she was shielded from view by her jacket and the great distance to the ground. He encountered her bra, and hastily tugged it out of his way, letting her breast fall from its case. The nubby flesh touched his thumb, and Lance grasped it.

  And now her hand moved higher, moved to stroke him, as he ached to have her do. She, too, was stealthy and mindful of the crowd far below, so her movements were slow, firm—excruciating.

  Just then, the Ferris wheel moved. It didn't grind or jerk, but simply started a smooth, slow descent. Lance jerked his hand away, as Tamara did. They lifted their heads.

  And laughed. "Typical," Lance said.

  Tamara grinned. The grin was edged with a hazy eroticism and genuine humor. "Curses." She shifted away from him as the car came to a stop at the bottom.

  "Sorry about that, folks," the operator said.

  Tamara stepped out and her knees nearly buckled. Lance grabbed her hand. "Come on," he said.

  She made no argument.

  * * *

  Chapter 10

  « ^ »

  As they walked away from the carnival, Tamara was aware of her heart racing a little in anticipation. Lance took her hand in his, and brushed against her, close, sending the aching sense of awareness up another notch. His hand was big and callused. He stroked her thumb restlessly.

  They didn't talk. The only sound was gravel crunching underfoot, and the fading music of the carnival, and yet it didn't feel awkward to her. Her nerves humm
ed with the imagined pleasure of touching him, as much of him as she could—and letting him touch her in return.

  He had parked his car between two semitrailers behind the grocery store. "Odd parking space," Tamara remarked. But it wasn't, not for their purposes.

  "I don't like to leave her out anywhere. The trucks hide her." He let go of her hand to unlock the door, and a thread of reason wound through her sensually hazed brain. Was she really going to neck with a man in a parked car?

  The heat between them was vivid as a bonfire—Tamara knew they wouldn't get out of the parking lot, not with each of them in such an aroused state.

  She hesitated, her hand on the door. "Lance—"

  He kissed her. His hand clasped her head, holding her close for the beady, fierce onslaught of his mouth. It left her dizzy when he raised his head, his eyes burning dark. "Ladies first," he said. The raw need in his voice was the last straw.

  Without a second thought, Tamara slid in, aware of a heady, almost drunken dizziness, and a roaring in her ears.

  Lance climbed in beside her and locked the door with a strange deliberation of movement. Then he slid from behind the steering wheel with purpose, making a low, warm sound of anticipation, and kissed her—full mouth, full heat, full desire.

  His passion sent her heart pounding into overdrive, and she clutched his shoulders, gasping for breath, her nerves clamoring for the feel of him, for his hands, his mouth, his body against hers. All night she'd been feeling aroused as he held her, as their bodies brushed and crushed and rocked together. All night she'd been wanting to kiss him, to feel his hands on her, to feel his body with her own hands.

  And now she had the chance. As he thrust his tongue hungrily into her mouth, as she met those furious, deep kisses with a fierceness of her own, she found the buttons of his shirt and quickly released them so she could put her hands on his skin. On his broad, strong chest.

  Supple flesh, lightly dusted with almost silky hair, met her questing fingers. She explored the planes of collarbone and the curve of ribs and the powerful netting of muscles over his flat stomach. Feeling stymied when her fingers tangled in the shirt, she made a sound of frustration and tugged the fabric from the waistband of his jeans, then plunged her hands under his shirt again.