A sweet, sepia-toned memory unfurls in my mind.
“You remember the time the three of us skipped class to go watchThe Dark Knight?” I ask.
He chuckles. “You were terrified Miss Bea was gonna find out and ground you for a month.”
“Shedidfind out. And shedidground me,” I insist. “But only for the weekend.”
“I remember having the theater all to ourselves. I remember you ate a whole bag of gummy bears and got a bellyache. I remember Cash loved the movie so much he made us stay and watch it a second time.”
I nod. “He wanted to dress up like Batman for that Halloween party Megan Jones threw the following year. But we insisted he keep with our Harry Potter theme.”
“That’s right. I was Harry. You were Hermione. And wetoldhim to come as Ron. But who did he show up as?”
“Voldemort,” we say in unison.
I shiver. “That mask he wore was terrifying.”
Luc drapes an arm over my shoulders, pulling me close to his warmth. “He thought he was so big and bad. And then the next day, the National Honor Society hosted a blood drive and the minute that phlebotomist stuck that needle in his arm, he passed out cold.”
“Ha! I forgot about that. Some tough guy he turned out to be.”
“Mmm.” The humor is gone from Luc’s voice when he says, “I reckon he’s tough enough. Just never been partial to needles.”
“I miss him,” I admit. One of the ten million great things about Luc is that I don’t have to couch my words around him. I can tell him anything. He never judges me. “Theoldhim, I mean. The carefree him. He’s so serious nowadays.”
“He doesn’t have much to laugh about.”
The truth of that simple statement is like a ten-ton weight inside my chest. And since there’s no need to add anything to it, we ride along in silence.
“You feeling okay about this?” he finally asks. “About tonight?”
I lift my head from his shoulder. There’s doubt in his beautiful dark eyes. I hope to dispel it by tugging on his ear. When he automatically tilts his face into my palm, I smile because his beard stubble is scratchy and rough. It feels nice.Male.
“I feel great about it,” I tell him truthfully. “Like I said, best first dateevah.”
The carriage comes to a stop in front of the spice shop. After helping me down, Luc keeps hold of my hand, and the two of us watch the tired mule pick up its pace once the driver tells him, “Let’s get on home, Harry.” When man and beast and conveyance disappear around the corner, my knees start to quake.
This is it. The end of the date.
I want to look at Luc. Want to see what’s in his eyes. But I can’t make myself turn. It’s like my neck muscles have locked into place.
“Maggie May.” He takes a gentle hold of my chin. “Look at me, sweetheart.”
And there they are. Those brown eyes that dragged me back from the brink when I was fourteen years old. The same brown eyes that push me to an entirely different brink now.
They’re Luc’s eyes. My friend’s eyes. And yet…they’re eyes that I could drown in for the rest of my life.
“Nothing’s gonna happen tonight that you don’t wanna happen,” he whispers. “I’d be happy to kiss your cheek and—”
“Kiss mycheek?” I blurt. “After the best first date ever? Are you kidding me?”
“Okay, then.” He puts a hand on my waist to pull me forward.
When we’re toe-to-toe, he cups my face and there it is. That thing I haven’t seen in his eyes since he pushed me up against Smurf and told me he was going to seduce me. It’s bone-deep, soul-deep,heart-deep hunger.
Lord, I’ve missed it. I didn’t realize how much until this very moment.
The air between us pulses with something sensuous and wonderful. I almost take a page from Sheldon’s book and start purring. But then?
