who was dressed as a cute rag doll, complete with a yarn wig she’d made herself using supplies from her craft shop.
Hmm. She wondered if Chaz would say she, too, was appropriately costumed for her personality.
“I guess I am tired,” he admitted.
“I’ll say. Sounds like all you can think of is your bed,” Viv said, her smile still knowing, a wicked gleam in her eyes.
Chaz didn’t nibble at the bait. In fact, he didn’t even seem to notice he was being flirted with. “I probably shoulda crashed, but I was in need of some American holiday fun. There’s not a single piece of candy corn in Pakistan. So I decided to come out to combat the jet lag.”
“And eat candy corn?” Lulu asked, unhappy Viv was working her vixen magic on her old friend. Well, her old something.
“Exactly. Have any on you?”
“I’m all out. I guess you’ll have to trick-or-treat through the neighborhood on your way home.”
“I forgot my sack.”
“Then you’re just out of luck.”
He sighed. “Day late and a treat short. Story of my life.”
Yeah. Because of mean girls who stole his candy bars.
She didn’t bring that up, though. No point reminding him of her antics if there was any chance in hell he’d forgotten them.
As if. That’d be like Batman forgetting the Joker’s antics. Once an arch nemesis, always an arch nemesis.
Not that she’d ever really considered Chaz her nemesis, arch or otherwise. But he might have one or two reasons to think she was. Including a crooked tailbone.
“Well, pull up a chair and join us,” said Viv, scooting over to make room for him. She cast Lulu a piercing look, waiting for her to officially introduce them.
She was about to, but he cut her off.
“Actually, I just wanted to see if you’d like to dance,” he said, staring down at Lulu, his gaze wavering between friendly and intense. She had to wonder if he, too, had been shocked by the changes nine years had wrought. She didn’t much resemble the stringy-haired, braces-wearing seventeen-year-old he probably remembered from his high school graduation party. The one when she’d pushed him into the swimming pool, fully clothed, because he’d called her flat-chested.
To be fair, she had been a late bloomer. Of course, he hadn’t really needed to point that out in front of all their friends and family.
She sat up a little straighter and thrust that no-longer-flat chest out the tiniest bit.
His gaze shifted. He noticed. She noticed him noticing.
“Well?” he asked, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “What do you say?”
“Uh...you really want to dance? With me?”
She was pretty sure the only time they’d ever danced together was when they’d had to be square-dancing partners in gym class in middle school. It hadn’t gone well. Holding hands with Chaz had been way too weird for her twelve-year-old self. Her hands had gotten sweaty, her breath short, and she’d had the strangest fluttering in her stomach.
She now suspected what the sweating and fluttering had been all about. She had liked Chaz’s blushes, despite what she’d said to her mother. But back then, never wanting to admit such a thing, she’d convinced herself that holding hands with Chaz Browning was enough to make her want to throw up.
So she’d done what any bratty twelve-year-old would do. She’d stuck out her foot and tripped him during their do-si-do.
Little bitch.
“You know how to dance, right?” Another green twinkle—how had she never noticed he had the most interesting golden streaks that cut through the irises, looking like starbursts? “I mean, it’s pretty easy—you just try to find the beat in the music and move around to it.”
She licked her lips, hearing the band finishing “Time Warp,” which immediately made her think of pelvic thrusts—not something she should be thinking about when it came to Chaz. Luckily the musicians segued right into a torchy version of “Witchcraft.” That somehow seemed appropriate, given her costume, and the fact that she felt as if someone had cast a spell on her. The song was slower, jazzier, and would necessitate close-up dancing, with hands and bodies in direct contact. And though her mind decided that was even riskier than pelvic thrusts, her legs launched her out of her chair immediately.
“Sure.”
She let him take her hand and pull her toward the crowded dance floor. When he grabbed her hips and pulled her close, she swallowed hard, trying to maintain her smile. Could he feel her crazily-beating heart or see the way her pulse thrummed in her throat? And was there any way in hell he didn’t know that some of her most female parts were standing at attention as their bodies brushed together?
Lulu waited for him to say something—Welcome to D.C., How’s the new place?, How are your folks? But he remained silent, merely moving his thigh between her legs as they swayed.
Lord have mercy. Though she’d often imagined having Chaz’s throat between her hands so she could strangle him for saying something that totally pissed her off, she’d never fantasized about having any part of him between her thighs.
He’d been gone from her life before she’d realized stomach flutters and thigh clenching were definite signs of lust.
But now her body was reacting to him in a way she’d never allowed her mind to. There was no mistaking her reaction for anything except excitement. Her palms were sweating and her whole body felt hot and sticky, as though if she didn’t get her clothes off, she would melt right into a puddle of want in the middle of the dance floor.
God, he was so big and strong compared to the boy she’d known. Powerful, male, appealing enough to stop hearts. His chest was so broad it could be used as a life raft. She couldn’t help twining her fingers in his longish hair, tousled from the sheet, shaggy from a few months’ travel.
The truth slammed into her, hard and life-changing.
She wanted him. Badly. Lulu wanted to go to bed with Chaz Browning and see if all the years of angry tension between them could be erased by erotic tension.
If only he were some random guy she’d just met, and the baggage of an entire childhood of fighting and competing, not to mention family drama, didn’t stand between them. If only he were just a sexy stranger like Schaefer, albeit one with charm, easy wit and personality.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t a stranger. Despite how closely he held her, Chaz couldn’t possibly have forgotten her childhood shenanigans and his own disdain toward her. There was no way he’d look at her as anything but the bane of his youth and the scorn of his adulthood. Plus there was the family-connection burden of looking after her. His email had said he’d promised his mom he’d do exactly that once he was back in the country, like she was some high schooler on a field trip to the big bad city. An inconvenience. A brat.
No,
