When Lightning Strikes Twice (24 page)

“You’re a laugh and a half, Saxon,” Dana growled, squirming against him.

“And you’re a little dope who jumps to the wrongest conclusions at the—”

“Wrongest isn’t a word.” She nipped at his lips, licking them, teasing him until he was groaning.

“Whatever you say, Sheely.” Wade grasped her head with his hands and captured her mouth again, kissing her the way they both wanted, hot and hard and deep.

Dana trembled, moving her hands over him, greedy to touch him. She pulled his shirt from his jeans and ran her palms over the bare skin of his chest and his back. He sucked in his stomach as her thumb investigated the indentation of his navel.

“Nobody’s here,” Wade rasped. “I don’t want to stop tonight, Dana.”

A thrill streaked through her. It was going to happen right here, right now. Wade was going to make love to her and she wanted him to, desperately. She dismissed last night’s apprehensions before they could surface. After suffering through what she’d thought had been his rejection and the loss of his friendship, the end of the bond between them, she could only welcome this unexpected second chance to be with him. To love him.

That gave her a moment’s pause. Dana gazed up at his familiar handsome face and a sunburst of warmth glowed all through her. Tricia had recognized that she lusted for Wade but it had taken these past lonely, hopeless twenty-four hours for Dana to realize that her feelings went far beyond lust. And deeper than friendship.

She was consumed by a dynamic mingling of the two and she knew what it was. Love. She was in love with Wade Saxon. And now she was going to make love with him.

She smiled up at him. “Saxon, if you stop tonight, I really will brain you with that poker.”

“Consider me adequately threatened.”

He swept her up in his arms and carried her over to the wide leather sofa. Dana linked her arms around his neck and savored the unusual pleasure of being carried by him.
The gesture struck her as sexy and romantic, part of a fantasy.

She nuzzled the spot where his neck met his collarbone, inhaling the enticing male scent of soap and aftershave and a heady essence that was all his own.

He sat down beside her on the sofa, removing her jacket, then going to work on the buttons of her blouse. She’d barely blinked when he slipped that off too, dispensing with her bra along with it.

Dana was seized by a sudden paralyzing shyness. She had to force herself not to cover herself with her hands. “You’re very fast.”

Wade laughed wickedly. “So I’ve been told.” He cupped her breasts, then lowered his head to take one taut nipple between his lips.

She felt a lightning-bolt response deep in her loins. Dana emitted a breathless moan and arched against his mouth. He teased and caressed her breasts until she cried out his name in a voice husky with need. She felt as if liquid fire was shooting through her body.

And then he turned his attention to the task of unzipping her skirt, which he did, pulling it off her and tossing it onto the chair which held the rest of her clothes.

“Panty hose,” he grumbled, running his index finger under and along the waistband. “Very serviceable. But I hate them, and so does every other guy on the planet.”

Dana blushed. Wade was in the process of pulling off her panty hose and taking her white cotton panties with them. This whole scene was getting a little too intimate for someone with her limited experience, but she intrepidly tried to keep up with the program.

“Sorry. If I’d known we were going to wind up here together, I would’ve worn my garter belt and stockings today.” Dana made a mental note to buy those items as soon as possible.

And then it occurred to her that Wade was fully dressed while she—wasn’t. Her heart began to beat so loudly she half expected it to burst out of her chest. She reached for
his belt and unbuckled it. Then she unbuttoned his jeans and grasped the zipper. She wished he would help her, but he seemed to have been suddenly rendered immobile.

Dana glanced at him, her face flushed with an unnerving combination of embarrassment and need. Wade was staring at her.

He appeared oddly dazed. She remembered him looking that same way when he had climbed behind the wheel of his adored Mercedes for the first time. She’d been in the front seat beside him as he drove the car from the showroom. It was flattering to see that she’d had a similar effect upon him.

Beneath her fingers, underneath the denim and cotton boxers, she could feel his heat, his hardness. She had done this to him. Feminine power surged through her, renewing her confidence. Boldly, she flattened her hand against him, her fingers conforming to his shape.

Wade moaned.

“I could use a little help here, Saxon,” Dana teased gently, tugging on the zipper which wouldn’t budge over the considerable bulge.

She decided to postpone that task for now to continue her intimate exploration, tracing the length and breadth of him, feeling the thickness, the weight.

Wade’s bout of passivity disappeared as quickly as it had come. Reactivated, he got rid of his clothing even faster than he’d divested her of hers.

He had intended to take it slow. She was so small and delicate, he didn’t want to rush her or hurt her, he wanted their first time together to be perfect. Different from anything she had ever experienced.

Already, it was different for him. Sex with Dana was inextricably linked to the affection he felt for her. He knew her, knew all about her family. He understood what made her laugh, what made her angry or sad. They’d shared a myriad of experiences over the years.

But never one like this. In all the years he’d known and valued her as a friend, he had never dreamed that she could
make him feel this way—or that anybody could. He didn’t think it was possible to have such intense feelings, such rapturous pleasure.

He felt as if he were entering another dimension when they kissed, when her small hands closed around him.

His fingers glided through the intriguing auburn thatch between her legs and he felt her softness, felt her wet and ready for him. And then he couldn’t think at all as his control abruptly snapped. He couldn’t wait another second.

“Now?” he managed to pant the word.

She purred her assent, and he shifted on top of her, guiding himself into her.

Dana cried out, startling him, but then her hands were on his hips, locking him to her, urging him deeper. Her mouth was against his shoulder and she wet his skin with her lips and her tongue, kissing it, nibbling at him helplessly.

With shockingly unexpected speed, sharp waves of pleasure rocked him and he was unable to stop the wild sensual torrent from sweeping him away in its tide….

The Living Chess Game at the Renaissance Festival included a board comprised of squares of spray-painted grass and two opposing teams of combatants, each assigned to a traditional chess position. Robin Hood and his Merry Men, with lovely blond Maid Marian as queen made up one team. The other team, predictably, was the wicked Sheriff of Nottingham and his assorted henchmen, but a wisecracking brunette served as their thoroughly unpredictable queen.

The captains of each team, Robin and the Sheriff, called the moves to their teammates and the human chess pieces complied with their orders. There was hand-to-hand combat to determine who was to be captured and plenty of ribald, raucous jokes.

Rachel watched and listened, amused. “I remember reading about Sherwood Forest as a kid, I’ve seen all the Robin Hood movies, from the old Errol Flynn one on TV to the Disney cartoon to the Kevin Costner film, but I have no
recollection of Robin Hood’s obsession with a wild wench who claims to be Maid Marian’s evil twin named Maid Marissa.”

The Robin Hood and Maid Marissa characters in the Living Chess Game were having a fine time entertaining the crowd and each other with their lusty, suggestive gestures and remarks.

“Maybe it’s because this Maid Marian gives a whole new meaning to the concept of vapid,” suggested Quint. “She’s the Living Stereotype, who inspires all those blonde jokes. Whose IQ barely equals room temperature.”

Rachel studied the lovely Maid Marian who was smiling vacuously at the crowd. “Still, she does have her following, doesn’t she?”

There were several groups of college-aged males who cheered and hollered any time Maid Marian shrugged her shoulders, which she did frequently, displaying her admittedly spectacular chest to best advantage.

“She kind of reminds me of one of your clients,” Rachel observed. “I wonder if she can lap dance?”

“Behave, Rachel.” Quint pinched her midriff and nipped at her earlobe. Rachel shivered, enjoying his sensual punishment.

She was sitting on the grass in the wide field with Quint behind her, surrounding her, his legs stretched out on either side of hers, her back leaning against his chest. He’d wrapped his arms around her waist and seemed more intent on smelling her hair or nibbling on her neck or kissing the sensitive place just below her ear than watching the Living Chess Game being performed.

In sheer self-defense, Rachel tried to keep her attention focused on the actors but all too often, her efforts faltered and she found herself giving in to the silken arousal pumping through her veins. She would lean her head back in the hollow of Quint’s shoulder and let the feelings take her, closing her eyes and savoring the exquisite fit of their bodies and his deft, subtle caresses.

Brady and Snowy lay on their bellies a few feet away,
playing an avid game with their dragon puppets. Occasionally, Rachel would tune in to their play, but the dialogue struck her as excruciatingly repetitive.

“Num, num, grass is good,” Snowy made her dragon talk in a deep guttural voice and pulled at the grass with her puppet’s mouth.

Brady watched her with the rapt admiration of one being treated to a performance by a Shakespearean player. He slavishly imitated her in word and deed.

Both toddlers laughed long and often, captivated by their own wit and totally oblivious to the Living Chess Game and everything else around them.

Austin and Dustin had discovered the dunking stool on the other side of the pond, which proved to be an excellent antidote to their mud brawl. They were dripping wet, but not muddy anymore.

As with the stocks, the dunking stool was an olden-day punishment for minor scrapes and offenses. In the festival version, the offender was strapped to a seat on something resembling a seesaw and plopped into the pond for a thorough dousing. Dustin and Austin loved it and kept the kangaroo court busy by running up to the “judge” and confessing to some crime in the not quite Olde English they’d picked up.

The adult spectators displayed noticeable relief every time the boys were dunked because most didn’t share their enthusiasm for getting soaked. Rachel saw several completely unwilling nonvolunteers forced onto the dunking stool by strong-armed court members and marveled that the festival wasn’t rife with lawsuits.

The storm came up quickly. The sky grew cloudy and then dark. Rain began to fall in fat cold droplets onto the crowd, who until then hadn’t paid much attention to the quick change of weather.

“Uh-oh. We’d better get out of here.” Quint glanced up at the sky as a few drops landed on his face. “Fast.” He rose to his feet in one swift movement, grasping Rachel and taking her up with him.

She secretly thrilled to his strength. He’d lifted her as easily as she picked up Snowy or Brady.

Seconds after Quint spoke those prophetic words, rain poured from the sky as if a billion showerheads had been simultaneously turned on. People began to dash from the fairgrounds, but the rain fell too hard and too fast to outrun. Very soon, Quint, Rachel, Snowy, and Brady were as drenched as Austin and Dustin, who’d spent the better part of the last hour in the pond.

The group scrambled into Quint’s car, the two youngest ones sobbing inconsolably because they didn’t want to go home and they didn’t like being all wet either. It was a hopeless predicament, and all Snowy and Brady could do to express their displeasure was cry. Luckily, they both fell asleep in their car seats within ten minutes of leaving the fairgrounds.

Because of traffic and the storm, the drive back to Lakeview took considerably longer than the usual two hours. Austin and Dustin kept themselves entertained in the far backseat with their GameBoy games while the smaller children slept. Rachel dozed off herself, which surprised her. She had never relaxed enough around anyone to fall asleep in their presence but she’d done just that with Quint behind the wheel, beside her.

She didn’t awaken until the car stopped in the Polks’ driveway. She felt groggy, almost stuporous. The car heater was set on high, blasting heat to counter any chill from their wet clothes, but causing a heavy soporific effect. Rachel wondered how Quint had managed to stay awake and alert during the drive. She could hardly keep her eyes open.

As he took his young half brothers into their grandmother’s house, she turned off the heat and rolled down her window. The cool air had revived her by the time Quint returned to the car.

“We’ll go to your apartment and you can pack an overnight bag,” he said, steering the car along the rain-soaked streets. ‘Then we’ll drop Snowy off at her house.” He
glanced back at the little girl still sleeping soundly in her car seat. “And go home.”

He was so matter-of-fact, nonchalant even, that it took Rachel a few moments to work out the planned scenario. But when she did, she knew she couldn’t acquiesce. “Quint, I’m not spending the night with you.”

“Why not? You want to, we both want it, Rachel.” He sounded so reasonable that arguing with him seemed almost churlish.

A most effective technique. Win the argument without even having it. Rachel was impressed. However, “It’s too soon, Quint. We both know that.”

“No, I don’t know that. I’m dead certain we should be together, Rachel, and if you’ll be honest with yourself, you’ll admit it, too.”

Rachel sucked in her cheeks. “Wasn’t there a time when you were dead certain that you belonged with Brady’s mother? You remember her—the woman who Misty said is currently chasing a man around Romania or somewhere.”