Gaffney, Patricia by Outlaw in Paradise

Author:Outlaw in Paradise
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2012-01-10T03:28:35+00:00

Nine

Cady sat at the edge of the lamplight, half in and half out, brushing her hair in front of her dressing table mirror. The right side of her head was dark and mysterious, black as midnight, but the left side had fire in it. Red gleams flashing and disappearing, as if they were playing a game with the silver-handled brush she dragged through it in long, lazy strokes, scalp to ends, scalp to ends. Jesse could feel his face going slack, mouth half open, eyelids drooping. She was hypnotizing him.

"You falling asleep?" She caught his eye in the mirror.

"Nope."

"Good." She laid the brush down and stood up. Something red hung on the side of the mirror, a scarf or something, draped over the front and back. She whisked it off and moved toward the bed. He'd seen her in her paisley robe before, that day when Clyde and Turley busted in and tried to scare her, but it hadn't affected him that much. Unlike now. She'd had some clothes on under it then; he hadn't been able to see every naked curve and flare she had, not to mention the soft, springy wobble of her breasts when she walked. He blinked his eyes; he was getting hypnotized again.

She sat on the edge of the mattress, and automatically he reached for the silk belt of her robe. Just to play with. She watched his face, turning her head to different angles, studying him. He smiled, batted his eyes. What was she up to?

"Lean forward," she said. He did, and she snaked the scarf in her hands—it was a scarf—around his neck and started to tie it in a bow. She finished and sat back, giving the bow and his chest a little pat. "Ha," she said. "Just as I thought." She got up and went back to her dressing table, began rooting around in the drawers.

"What are you doing?"

She returned with more scarves. "May I?" She lifted his right arm and tied a blue and green one around his biceps. He started to laugh. "Colors," she explained, beaming. "I wanted to see how you look in something besides black."

"And?"

"Lovely." She tied a third one, pink, purple, and orange, around his left wrist. "My dear, you are quite fetching."

"I'll fetch you if you don't cut it out."

"Oh, I'm so scared." She had a hat hanging on her wall, floppy straw with a bunch of yellow flowers and ribbons. She went and got it, then came toward him grinning, purposeful.

"Oh, no, you don't." He ducked and caught her by both wrists, yanking her on top of him. She shrieked, and he couldn't resist tickling her. They had a wrestling match that didn't last long, only until he rolled over and pinned her. Giggling, snorting, they panted in each other's face, and it was so good, so perfect, he started to tell her the truth—that this was the best day of his life, the best day, he could still hardly believe it. But before he could say it, she said.

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