All the Way (21 page)

Then she felt the pull of his stare. She looked over at him, and once again he snapped his head up and stared straight. This time his mouth quirked.

She rolled her eyes. “You are such a goof.”

“I was going for smooth and casual. Guess I’m better at blunt and obvious.”

“You can be smooth when you want to be.”

“Are you telling me I lay it on thick?”

“No. You’re too honest to give false flattery. I’m saying you have this way of being irresistible sometimes.”

He rubbed his jaw. “Irresistible, huh?”

“Rumor has it.”

“You don’t remember from personal experience?” The glum note in his voice made her lips twitch.

“Maybe.” Her grin widened. “I might need a reminder.”

“Careful. I’m a guy who loves a challenge.”

She arched a
brow. “I’m counting on it.”

He let out a low whistle. “Way to throw that gauntlet.”

“One of us has to.”

“I guess it’s about time one of us did.” He smiled down at her softly.

The sun brightened the glint in his green eyes, gilding his long, dark lashes. The look told her that he planned to take up her challenge. And that on no uncertain terms he intended to win.

This time she just might let him.

Following the smell of deep-fried grease that called to their stomachs, they traveled along together, moving as one. His fingertips glided down the back of her arm, barely-there touches that scattered delight across her nerve endings.

As they milled through the crowds, he cupped her elbow and guided her around mothers pushing baby strollers, dads with toddlers perched on their shoulders, packs of boys running through the fray, wild, dirt-streaked and free-roaming as wolves. Teens were there with their crushes, looking longingly at one another, making bumbling passes at handholding or feeding each other blue and pink wisps of cotton candy.

Blake made his own pass. It was far from bumbling. Intimate, sensual, his broad, callused palm coasted against hers. His fingers gently stroked and threaded hers. Searching touches that made her fingertips tingle, her abdomen stretch with desire.

She opened her hand to his attention. His fingers splayed before they wrapped around her hand completely.
She felt surrounded by his strength and protection, most of all the assurance in his light but firm hold.

Pure acceptance wrapped in the familiar pleasure of a lover’s touch.

Incredible.

Her heart squeezed inside her chest. She squeezed his hand.

“Lunch is my treat this time,” she insisted.

“Thanks for the gesture. Bring me a snowball from hell, and I’ll consider letting you pay. Aside from that, my answer will be an eternal no.”

“French fries?” she offered. He shook his head. “Just one elephant ear,” she persisted. He wouldn’t budge.
“Not even a measly hot dog?”

“Save your breath, beautiful. I will never be swayed.”

Despite her frustration over his stubborn streak, her heart expanded at the endearment. “Tell you what,” she said, forming a plan. “If I guess your weight within five pounds, I get to buy. If I’m wrong, you pay like usual.”

His lips flattened to a tight line of consideration. Then he nodded. “Deal.”
He folded his arms and widened his stance, a pose that said,
Go ahead,
make my day
.

“Anyone ever tell you, you’d make a great Dirty Harry?”

“Yeah, I get that all the time.”
He rolled his eyes.

Scanning him up and down, Layla tapped her chin. “Let’s see here.” Tracking a leisurely circle around Blake, she ogled
him shamelessly.

His hands shifted to his waist. “Stop staring at me like that.”

“Like what?” Her gaze moved over him with measured slowness, stopping at all the erotically pertinent spots.

“I’m more than just a piece of meat, you know.”

She heaved a sigh.
“Darn.”

He straightened.
“Excuse me?”

With a shrug and a grin, she admitted, “What can I say? I’ll take a cheap thrill wherever I can find it.”

“Great. Not only am I reduced to the status of bath toy, now I’m cheap to boot.
You really know how to flatter a guy.”

“Cheap and easy, that’s how I like my men,” she said breezily.

“I can do cheap and easy.”

“You don’t say?”

“We all have to make sacrifices.
For you, anything.”

Batting her eyelashes at him, she said suggestively, “I had no idea you could be so accommodating.”

“Try me and find out.”
He gave her a sexy, come-and-get-me look that made her want to haul him over to the picture booth and make out behind the curtain.

“Okay,” she said.
“I put you at 210 pounds worth of prime bath toy potential.”

“You’re off by five, and you can have me anywhere you want.”

“And I get to buy you lunch at a carnival. Yep, you’re right. Cheap and easy.
I guess we’re meant to be.”

“I’ve always thought so,” he murmured.

She blinked at his serious tone. But she kept things light and playful, revealing a grin as she asked, “If I buy you lunch, will you sleep with me on the first date?”

“What kind of guy do you think I am?” he demanded with mock horror. They got in line at the food stand. Then he murmured in her ear, “I’d skip lunch for the rest of my life to get you into bed…was that your question?”

“Well then. Our future looks bright. Let’s eat.”

Blake still refused to let her pay. He wolfed down his corndog in three bites and said he’d be right back.
She caught him fishing his wallet out of his back pocket. He’d gone to buy more tickets.

Upon return, he suggested they head for the Ferris wheel. Except,
when they passed the Crazy Eight Fun House, neither could resist.

They entered through a hall of wacky mirrors. At the last one, they stood side by side and Layla grinned into the wavy glass. “Hey, look. I’m taller than you for once!”

“Enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Believe me, I will,” she said, negotiating her steps across a rope bridge over a pit.
In the next room all the décor and furnishings were suspended upside down, like something out of Alice in Wonderland. She’d definitely fallen down the rabbit hole.

But the real nightmare was about to begin.

It started with the pitch-black room. They had to feel their way around to locate the exit. There were other people trapped inside along with them. Within the first thirty seconds she lost Blake, cracked skulls with someone, apologized, and got felt up.

“Blake, please tell me that was you,” she said when a large hand groped and slid up her backside.

“What was me? Where the heck are you?”

“Over here. I take it that wasn’t you.”

Warm breath brushed her forehead as he sighed with relief when their hands connected.
His fingers threaded through hers.

“What were you asking me?” he wondered.

“Never
mind.”
She drew closer to him.
“I think there’s a pervert in the room.”

His fingers stiffened over hers. Then his voice raised a notch. “You know, it’s pretty dark in here. I could commit murder with no witnesses.”

A choking sound came from someone on their right. Soon after, a curtain parted and the incandescent glow from a black light gushed into the space. Those trapped flocked to its source like souls stuck in purgatory racing toward the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. She raced out with them.

Anxiety cinched tight between her shoulder blades. The dark room had begun to feel tight, airless, folding in on her with the same smothering closeness
she’d felt inside her helmet on the highway. “That was awful,” she said, trying to shake it off.

“We won’t be going through this thing twice. Unless I find whoever touched you and teach him a lesson in that dark room.” Blake meant it. She could tell by the snarl that accompanied his words, the curl of his lip revealing white teeth that glowed under the black light.

“Let it go,” she said.
“As long as I don’t lose you, we’ll get through this.”

“You won’t lose me.” His hands molded to the sides of her waist, wrapping her in security.

Layla couldn’t help wondering if Blake had pledged something to her in that moment. The fun house refused her time to contemplate it.

The black light led them through a zebra-striped room, the zigzags and continuous patterns disorienting. Her eyes fell out of focus.

She panicked. “Blake, can you lead?”

“Sure.”

His grip shifted from her waist. Locking her hand in his, he took charge. So capable.
So confident.

He is good for you
.
The notion crossed
her mind and snagged on the uncertain, uneven edges of her heart.

She’d never asked anyone to take over and lead her onward where she felt uncomfortable venturing. She’d always stuck it out, braved the worst, and did it without considering asking someone to help her through.

When they rounded the next corner, Layla stopped in her tracks.

A tunnel of lights lay between them and the exit beyond. Though not just any tunnel of lights. A conveyor belt moved in jerky spasms on the floor; red, blue and white lights flashed in disjointed arcs overhead in the dark tunnel. A strobe light kicked on.

Light and shadow slashed her vision. It chopped everything she saw into pieces.

Darkness.
Flashes.

Blake was beside her. Then he wasn’t.

Her body recoiled from the lights, while her mind reran the same old reel. How the sky had turned so dark so fast, the police and ambulances gathering, sirens piercing the pores of her body, lights swinging crazily.
Robby…where’s my baby brother?

Layla couldn’t tell where the past stopped, where the present began.
She teetered on the edge of being sucked down into the black hole of the past.

Horror rose up in her throat and choked her.

The accident.
Police lights.
Ambulance sirens.
The screams.
Can’t somebody save him?
Noise, chaos, numbness.
Kenny’s gone. Left me.
Alone in this.
Terrible silence.
The sound of death.
Regret soaked her like the rain drizzling down.
Never said good-bye.

Always this nightmare.
Haunting her.
Never letting go.

No, don’t leave! Stay—help me. God, help me…

Would it ever end?

“I’m not leaving. Baby, you’re not alone. I’m right here with you.”

Blake’s words echoed in some quiet cavern of her soul. She heard him above the
pulse that thundered in her ears, while her heart pounded furiously against her ribs.

She blinked. She could only see the accident scene when Kenny’s motorcycle crashed. Her mother had already lost her mind, hauled away kicking and screaming and delusional. Cracked apart. Like her whole world. Nothing was ever the same.

Yellow police tape stood between her and everything she knew as love. All she had left of the life she’d always wanted. A family.
All gone.
Except for the small, cool hand that reached for hers, the wide eyes that sought her gaze. Robby’s eyes—probing, innocent blue—hunted for answers she didn’t know and would never have.

Why, why, why, why?

She couldn’t give him what he needed. The cold shock of loss had struck her too deeply, icing her heart. All her hopes had poured out of that hole and she had nothing left. Nothing except a tiny five-year-old’s
hand trembling in hers. She clung to Robby. They were in this together. She would never lose him, couldn’t. Just couldn’t bear to lose one more person she loved.

She shivered, feeling like a heavy block of ice and numbness. Warmth enclosed her. A tight embrace held her with reassuring strength.

In her vision-flashback, she moved with dream-like slowness. She tore away from the scripted scene. Without releasing the memory of her little brother’s hand in hers, she turned forward to the future, forward to Blake and the warmth of his embrace. She curled one hand into soft fabric that stretched over the hard surface of his chest. Pressing her face into his solid strength, she let herself be held.

Blake’s hand stroked her hair. “It’s all right.”

Those were the words her soul had cried out to hear that night she lost everything. Words she’d spent her life trying to prove, yet never felt she’d done enough for Robby.

What more could I do?

“Nothing, baby. You’ve done all you can.”

Her heart squeezed hard and so did her eyes, pushing back tears. Her hand tightened around the fabric of Blake’s shirt.
I tried. I wanted to make everything okay. Like it was
before. But it was never right after that. I couldn’t make it right.

“You did the best you could.”

It wasn’t enough.

“It was more than enough. And you did it all on your own.”

Robby deserved better. I wanted more for us. There never seemed enough of anything to go around. Not enough money or love or Mom. Except anger and regret—plenty of that.

“Your mother left you with a terrible burden of responsibility. You’ve done an amazing job of pulling your life together and raising your brother. Rob is the person he is today because of you.”

He is?

“Yes, Layla.”

Hearing her name startled her. Blinking rapidly, she felt like a somnambulist awakening. She stared into a wide spread of darkness.

The flashback receded. For a moment it flickered at the edge of her mind like a shadow, and then it was gone. No accident or ambulance or stretcher in the middle of the road stained with blood. The memories were somehow inaccessible to her, like unwanted furniture draped in formless gray sheets.

She uncurled her fingers from the fabric she clenched. A hand rested heavily on hers, stopping her.

“You can hold on
to me, Layla,” Blake murmured, a whisper of breath stirring the hair at the crown of her head. “You can count on me.”

“Blake?” She lifted her forehead, realizing she’d been staring at the black expanse of his broad chest.

“Right here, beautiful.”

“Blake…thank you.”

“For what?” He smoothed a hand down her back. She flattened her palms over his heart.

“For being you.
For being here.”

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

Although lights flashed sporadically behind him, his shoulders blocked the jarring inconsistencies. When had he pulled her into an alcove, just before the tunnel? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that he stood there, constant, steady.

Layla had never seen that look in a man’s eyes before.
A
mixture of affection, adoration, and something that ran deeper than both.
Shining in his dark green eyes was an emotion almost more powerful than she could handle, or felt she deserved. Only one notion encompassed it.

He believes in me
.

The edges of her vision blurred wetly. Blake took her hand, enfolding it completely in his own. Then they walked side by side through that wicked tunnel and beyond, into the sunlight.

They walked hand in hand through the carnival. Like a couple.

In line at the Ferris wheel, Layla experienced a sense of wonder over how good it felt to have him standing behind her. Even with a small gap between them, her body registered his heat and presence as if they were touching.
His hands
gripped the metal rails that guided the line of people, and her eyes traced the powerful outline of his arms extended on either side of her.

She pulled her hair over one shoulder and felt his breath, even and warm, against her bare neck. A gentle shiver coasted down her back. He slid closer.

The line advanced. Finally, they stepped into their seat, the bar latched into place, and the seat swung forward to load the cars behind. His eyes scanned the scene around them absently, as
he mentioned offhand, “There’s an old wives’ tale that says if you get stuck at the top of the Ferris wheel, the girl has to kiss her man. Bad luck if you don’t.”

Layla eyed him. “What? I never heard that. Besides you never get stuck directly at the top. If you did, believe me, I’d remember it,” she said with an involuntary shudder.

“Afraid of heights are we?”

“I’m not
afraid
. I just avoid them where possible.” She looked away, concentrating on the trees now within eye level.

“So if I did this…” He leaned forward, and the car began to tip with his weight.

Clutching his shirt in a death grip, she seethed, “Don’t you dare.”

“Whoa, okay. Just kidding.” He pried her fingers from his T-shirt and curled his hand around hers, resting them both on his lap. His thumb swept over skin several times.
Layla tried to comprehend how the subtle gesture made her want to tuck herself against him and press a kiss to his cheek…neck…lips…

They swung up, up, up as more cars behind them loaded.

From their height, they had a good view of the Crazy Eight Fun House, and debated how the owner crammed all those wacky rooms into a doublewide, two-story trailer.
And what kind of sick person would build such a thing?

Once the ride had gotten going, making lazy loops through the air, Blake offered a guess. “Maybe they hope some people don’t make it out. Might be part of some conspiracy.
That guy from the fish game could really be a Mafioso, and men in pinstripe suits will be after us for discovering the hidden truth about the Crazy Eight.”

“Stuff it,” Layla promptly replied with a mock glare.

“Where?”
He arched an eyebrow provocatively. “I’m open to all suggestions.”

Wind swooshed through their hair as the ride completed its tenth loop and circled toward the top again. She returned his provocative expression. “I hardly think this is the time or the place to discuss that.”

“You sure?”

“I was thinking someplace more private.”

Something flared deep in his eyes. “I don’t know, baby. Seems to me we’re pretty secluded all the way up here.”

“Hey, why are we stopped?”

The ride jerked and halted. The air felt cooler at this height, whispering across her cheeks. A jolt of fear kick-started her pulse.

Blake winked. “Stuck at the top of the Ferris wheel, a girl is supposed to kiss her guy or they’re doomed to bad luck for all eternity.”

“All eternity?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Your tale just got taller.”

“I want you to know the full magnitude of the curse we’ll be subjected to if you don’t act fast.” Throwing his arms over the back of the seat, he leaned a little closer.
“Ready and waiting.”

Layla threw him a look. “It’s a momentary pause. We’ll be going around again any minute.” When the attendant’s voice bellowed through a megaphone, Layla heard his prognosis of a minor mechanical mishap and cringed. “Or not.”

Blake stretched out and sighed. “Looks like we’ll be up here for awhile.
Plenty of time to ward off a pesky curse.”

“Oh, please.” Layla rolled her eyes, even as a wave of heat rolled through her at the idea of planting one on his sexy lips. But she couldn’t help growing edgy knowing they were stuck forty feet in the air.

“I’ll make it easy for you,” he offered.

Shifting in the seat without rocking it, Blake angled his torso toward her
and draped one arm around her shoulders. He smoothed back the strands of hair the wind had blown in her face. Soothed by his touch, lulled by his fingers combing through her hair, her eyes drifted shut.

Lost in the feel of his fingertips massaging her scalp, her lips parted. She offered him an open invitation.

Nothing happened.

Her lashes swept up to find Blake gazing at her softly, looking just as lost as she felt. Impulsively, she trailed her fingers along the
back of his neck and urged him toward her. His muscles hardened with resistance. He shook his head.

Layla realized what he wanted. How much she wanted it, too. Touching his lips with her fingertips, she traced their outline reverently. Color arced across his cheekbones.
He seemed tense as a trapped coil, but resisted making a move. He waited for her.

“Come to me,” he whispered.

“Blake.”

Dropping her fingers, she replaced them with her lips. Her mouth pressed to his. Every move she initiated, he responded to in kind, but he always waited for her direction, her invitation.

As her lips explored, so did his. As her mouth parted, so did his. Her tongue dipped inside to taste him. He took her into his mouth, took everything she had to give and gave it right back.

It was the sexiest thing she’d ever experienced. He allowed her total freedom, handed her complete control.
Intoxicating
.

She dropped two quick kisses, drew back an inch, and asked
“Do you know how badly I’ve wanted you today?”

“If it’s as badly as I’ve wanted you, then yes.” He lifted his hand to touch her face, but stopped.

“Touch me,” she invited.

“Not this time,” he murmured. His gaze slid over her face, caressing each feature with his eyes, heightening her awareness of the heat simmering between them.
“This is your show, baby. Show me what you’ve got.”

She did.

The grainy texture of new beard on his jaw made an erotic contrast to his soft breath and lips. He lured her into his mouth, made her want more, their tongues gliding, tangling, searching. Her hands slipped through his hair, traced the sides of his neck where his pulse leaped wildly. Then she held onto his shoulders.

He held still. An occasional tremor sluice down his arm, his fist a hard knot gripping the back of their seat. Yet never once did he let go or lose control.

Blake let her come to him. Let her explore. Let her consume him. God, she wanted him. Here.
Now. Wanted him enough to tear through any barrier remaining between them—physical or emotional—to give them both the pleasure they’d denied each other for far too long. She wanted to make love to Blake. Then let him make love to her, feel him above her, all around her, inside her. Pushing, striving to bring them closer together, driving them toward the edge of heaven.

Then she’d turn around and return every ounce of his passion.

Oh, yes.
Wind swirled around them again. It did nothing to cool the flames of passion that lit her veins on fire.

Their tongues mimicked the glide, plunge and retreat of lovemaking.
Oh, please yes.
She wanted
to show him in bed what she was showing him now.

Only their “show” turned into a carnival-wide performance. She realized it as they flowed to a sudden stop. The attendant cleared his throat. Layla felt the bar lift.

Her eyes flew open. Hot embarrassment filled her cheeks under the spotlights of a dozen wide, unblinking gazes.

“Finished?” the attendant asked with raised eyebrows and a grin.

“Yes,” Layla squeaked. She bolted from the ride. Blake wasn’t far behind. They received a couple of whistles and cheers as they passed the line. She lamented, “I can’t believe I was caught making out with you.”