Dancing in the Dark: A Novella (2 page)

He smiled. One of those smiles she
'd missed. "Poor Ty," he said, but he didn't sound particularly sorry for Ty. "Whatever happened to Ty?"

"
He's running his father's store on the beach. He married Anne Peterson."

"
You mean Anne the one who—?"

"
She was never like that," Janey replied. "She just—got around more than most of us."

"
That she did," Matt said.

"
Did you—?"

"
Just a little under sweater action. Eighth grade."

Relieved, Janey smiled. She
'd never be able to look Anne in the face if they'd gone beyond that. "You started young."

"
I was big for my age." As soon as the words left his mouth, he blushed. She'd never seen Matt blush. He cleared his throat, ran a hand down the back of his head. "So, ah, did Ty disappoint as a dancer?"

"
He was okay. It was fun." It had been. Ty had even been a gentleman about going no further once they'd gotten in his car. But she'd wanted Matt there. She'd simply wanted Matt. "I wanted you to dance with me."

Something flared in his eyes. Something hot and primal.

Her pulse raced in response.

"
We're not going anywhere, Janey. Dance with me." 

Chapter
Three

Did he really say that? Had he allowed himself the luxury of saying aloud what he wanted? With Janey?

Hell, no. He didn
't. Not really. He wanted a hell of a lot more than a dance. In the dark. With Janey.

He could keep it at just a dance. If Ty could do it at eighteen, he could at thirty-three. He would go no further. He was leaving in two weeks, no choice, no way to…do what? Make promises he couldn
't keep?

"
That's okay, no biggie," he hurried to say. "I understand if you don't want—"

"
I want to dance with you." Only she said it like she wanted much more than a dance.

If she didn
't stop him, could he stop himself? Again?

Yes.

He was a damn clandestine officer. He could keep his hands off Janey Blackmon.

Not if they were dancing.
"There's only elevator music," he said, suddenly desperate for an out.

"
We'll make do."

That was exactly what he was afraid of.

"This is a nice song. Come on, Matt. You asked," she said, backing into the dining room.

He followed through to the living room, tempted by the thought of holding her. He prayed the song would end. He prayed it wouldn
't.

There she stood, this woman he
'd wanted as long as he could remember. Rain beat against the windows, thunder rumbled in the distance. The town was flooding, but he didn't care. The whole damn place could wash away as she smiled up at him, a little hesitant, a little shy. Like she was afraid he'd refuse.

He couldn
't.

He held out his arms in the dance position and she glided in.

She smelled like heaven, she felt…he didn't have the words. Like a gift. Like… No, he didn't have the words.

Her hand felt small in his as they turned in the formal stance. There was nothing formal about
the million different ways she made him need her, so he tucked her hand against his chest and pulled her close with his left arm around her waist.

And beat back emotions he couldn
't let her see. Instead, he concentrated on the music. He recognized the tune from the radio, something soft and romantic.

Hell, Kincaid, of course it sounded soft and romantic. It was damn elevator music.

Janey was soft. He breasts pressed against his chest made him hard in an instant. He shifted, moving his lower body away so she wouldn't know. He thought of rotten things, turnips. And liver. God, he hated turnips and liver and a hell of a lot of other things he'd seen in his life that he refused to think about—ever.

Did
n't do a thing for the hard on, but he didn't think anything would.

"
Do you dance much?" Janey asked tipping her head back to look at him.

"
Me? Dance?" He sounded stupid. Probably had to do with the fact that his blood was flowing south, depriving his brain of oxygen. "No, not much chance to dance."

She snuggled closer.
"Do you like what you do?"

"
Yeah," he replied. Holding her was what he liked the best, and it was, he knew, his biggest temptation. "Most of the time." He backed away enough to look at her. "You?"

"
Yes, but what I do isn't exciting."

"
You mean stamping books isn't exciting?"

She sighed. He would have thought it was a sign she was happy to be in his arms, but the sigh sounded a bit annoyed. She backed away slightly, too, so he knew he was right.

"Librarians don't stamp books," she said.

Mystified, he met her gaze.
"Then what do you do?"

"
In my case, because I'm at the college, I help students with their research."

"
Don't they know how to use Google?"

She stopped dancing. His hard on remained the same.

"Google isn't the answer to everything. There are lots of things that don't make it into the Google index."

He, of all people, knew that.
"So you help them find books?"

"
Books they can find in the library, and not just print books, but ebooks they can read." She moved close again, and he swayed to the music. "Articles we have in databases we pay for that they can access for free because they're students."

The hand she had on his shoulder moved up to his neck. Matt struggled to think of an intelligent statement.
"So you help them and teach them this stuff."

She nodded, her hair tickling his cheek. He took in the scent of her, so simple and fresh.

Her fingers caught in his hair. "Don't you have to keep your hair short?" she asked.

"
No, that's the military."

"
Oh."

"
I planned to get it cut tomorrow."

"
Why?"

"
Tickles my neck."

"
Oh."

The music shifted to another tune, one he didn
't recognize, one that was slower. He adjusted their rhythm, not that he was leading her in any way, just swaying.

And holding Janey Blackmon like he never thought he would again.

"I imagine everything will be closed tomorrow," she said after a long moment in which he wondered if he dared pull her any closer. Maybe she didn't know what she did to him.

"
Oh?"

"
The flooding."

"
Yeah, the flooding." He debated about how far he dared let himself slip. Rationally, he considered that Janey was twenty-nine. She hadn't married. His mother said she wasn't dating again, not after some bastard dumped her when she was in grad school. Stupid moron. If he could get his hands on the dumb shit, he'd beat him—

Hell, if the stupid moron hadn
't left her, she wouldn't be here with him.

And it sure didn
't help him figure out what to do now.

She took the decision out of his hands by simply snuggling into his neck.

He'd never felt so… Hell, words failed him. Her breath, soft and warm on his neck, her breasts against his chest. Her. Just her. He slid his hand from hers, ran his fingers down the back of her head, lingering in the warm silk of her hair. She burrowed closer―and then she kissed his neck.

Hot blood coursed through his veins, so hot he was sure h
e'd burst into flames.

He could do this, he decided instantly. He could taste and not take. He took a deep breath in order to control the temptation to let go, pulled back just enough to look at her, one hand on the back of her head, the other at her waist, resisting pulling her closer.

She opened those gorgeous light brown eyes and said his name. "Matt." That was all it took.

His breath hitched and he slanted his mouth over hers. Her tongue touched his lower lip.

Hungry, he devoured her mouth. And, damn it, she devoured right back. To the point where he was holding her so close there could be absolutely no doubt as to his current condition.

She ran one hand up through his hair and with the other on his butt, anchored herself to him. Yeah, she knew. She moved against him, definitely felt his erection.

He knew he should be thinking this wasn't good, but all he wanted was to pull her up, legs around his hips, and take―

He
gritted his teeth and mustered all his willpower to resist, even as Janey continued her sensuous movements, driving him crazy.

A siren blared. He ripped himself away, shoved Janey to the floor and reached for his gun. Shit! Where was his gun? He pivo
ted, scanning for his weapon, every fiber of his being ready to take on the enemy. But all he saw was the couch, the leather chairs, his mother's bookcase, the dining room and kitchen beyond.

No danger. He wasn
't working. His gun was locked away.

The damn radio. Shit fire. The emergency signal.

He felt like an idiot!
Clandestine officer with raging hard on shoots radio.
Yeah, that would make a great report title.

Janey, confusion in her eyes, looked at him from her position on the floor as he crouched beside her, his right hand still clutching for his missing gun. The claxon signal stopped and the announcer began.
"This is an update from the National Weather Service office in in Tallahassee. Flooding continues along the Florida Panhandle. Power is out for over 100,000 residents. The city of Walton Springs is cut off by the two forks of the Lakni River. Residents in the historic downtown should remain indoors." The announcer continued with what they already knew.

Matt stood
and turned the radio way down. "I'm sorry," he said. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" He reached down to help her up.

"
I'm fine."

"
Well, I'm not," he said, rubbing his hands down his face. "This can't happen."

"
It felt like it was happening to me," she replied. "I don't think there's a problem." He caught her glance down at his crotch. At least he wasn't tenting his pants as much as he had been.

"
I can't promise anything beyond today. You know that."

"
I'm not asking for anything."

"
Well, you sure as hell should be." He shook his head. "Damn, Janey, you drive me crazy."

He thought he detected a smile just before she said,
"You drive me crazy, too, Matt."

Okay, this wasn
't going the way he'd planned. Two weeks off, relax, house to himself, do some things, carpentry work, drink a few beers, go fishing.

Not Janey.

He ran his hand down the back of his head. He needed that haircut, bad. "I'd better call my mother and let her know I haven't washed away."

"
Is that your way of stalling?"

Yes, it was, he realized. A grown man, with a grownup problem, hiding behind his mother.

"Not an attractive picture is it," he said laughing at himself. "But I had better call her. She'll wonder if the house has washed down the hill when she hears about this."

Cooling down time. That
's what he'd bought. He picked up the phone.

No dial tone. Well, hell. He walked to the end table where he
'd dumped his keys and grabbed his cell. "No bars."

"
Towers are probably down," Janey said. "It happens when it blows like this. Your mom will know that, but will your friend? Will he keep trying?"

"
Yeah, he will." He put the cell back down. "Try not to worry. JP's good. He can take care of himself."

"
He loves what he does as much as you do," she said.

Did he still love it? The challenge, yes. The roller coaster ride of excitement. The absolute mind-blowing moment of success.

The total screw-ups, not at all.

"
Do you blame me for his decision to join the Agency?"

"
No," she shook her head. "If he hadn't done this, he'd still be in the army doing something even more dangerous. With the CIA, at least he has a chance."

A chance. Matt prayed she was right. And yawned.

"Go to sleep, Matt," she said, "I shouldn't have pushed you."

Ever-practical Janey.
"I'm not functional," he replied. "I do need sleep." He stretched. "If you hear weather news I need to know, wake me. No matter what, wake me in about an hour and a half. Otherwise my internal clock is going to be a royal mess."

"
Will do," she said with a smile. "And Matt?"

"
Yeah?"

"
You felt functional to me."