he’d affected her so deeply. That would be worse than the sweaty hands/square dancing incident.
“The music’s good tonight,” he finally said. “Schaefer and his band have improved since the last time I heard them play.”
“You know him?”
“Yeah, he’s sort of a regular in the neighborhood and he was a soloist for a while. But he was a bit of a hippie. He’d get into trouble, sneaking out of upbeat background music and into some depressing, sixties, psychedelic-mushroom ballad once in a while. Talk about a mood killer. The bar owners threatened to ban him.”
“Do you know his first name?”
Chaz grinned. “I do.”
“What is it?”
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you. He made me promise.”
“Must be a doozy.”
He nodded slowly. “Let’s just say...it’s appropriate.”
“Can’t I bribe it out of you?”
“What’ll you give me?”
“All the Tootsie Rolls from my goodie bag?”
“I’m not interested in candy,” he told her, that half smile lingering on a mouth so kissable it made her own go dry.
“I thought you were jonesing for candy corn.”
“Maybe I’d rather taste something else sweet.”
Whoa. The twinkle in his eye and the flash of that dimple took the light comment and brought it up to flirtatious—maybe even suggestive—level. It was totally unlike anything he’d ever said to her. She had to wonder how many drinks he’d had, or if he’d been drinking them on an empty, jet-lagged stomach. She just didn’t believe a sober Chaz would’ve made that kind of comment—not to her, anyway.
“Like what?” she asked, her tone just as flirty and suggestive, calling his bluff. She knew he’d put a stop to the conversation any second, but couldn’t deny she was having fun while it lasted.
“That drink left your lips looking very red and delicious.”
Good God, was he going to kiss her? The way his gaze focused in on her face said he was considering it, and her heart pounded in her chest. It was crazy. They hadn’t even played doctor as kids, much less snuck even the most innocent of kisses. But he was eyeing her mouth as if he was parched and needed to positively drink from her.
“I have to admit, this conversation is taking me by surprise,” she said, hearing the breathiness in her own voice and wondering what he would make of it.
“You can’t be surprised that I think you’re beautiful.”
“I most certainly am,” she said with a forced smile. Chaz, the boy who’d once called her a soul-sucking leech, thought she was beautiful?
Yeah. He had to be drunk.
“Every man here thinks it,” he said, sounding totally serious. “I saw you the minute I walked in and couldn’t take my eyes off you.” Glancing down at her body, he smiled wickedly. “You surprised me. I always assumed witches were old and ugly.”
“Only bad witches are ugly,” she pointed out, catching his Wizard of Oz reference.
“And you’re a very good witch?”
“Some would debate that. Maybe I’m a little of both.”
“Which witch are you tonight?”
“Which witch do you hope I am?”
His green eyes glittered under the dance floor lights. “Maybe a little of both.”
Hmm.
“Just remind me not to drop a house on you.”
“Or douse me with water,” she said with a grin, liking how easy they were with each other. Old friends flirting a little, reminiscing a little. Because they were both exploring a shared memory.
It had been her eleventh Halloween. She’d wanted to be a Spice Girl, but in a repetition of the Sailor Moon fiasco, of course the boys wouldn’t go for what she wanted, so they’d all done a Wizard of Oz thing. Chaz had been the Scarecrow, Lawrence, her brother, the Tin Man, her dog was Toto, and Chaz’s dog was the Cowardly Lion. Only, as if he understood his role and wasn’t happy about being labeled a coward, the ornery beagle had wriggled out of his lion mane and hidden it in his doghouse before they’d even started trick-or-treating.
As for the rest...well, of course Sarah had been Dorothy and Lulu had been the Wicked Witch of the West. Complete with green flour paste all over her face, a scraggly wig, horrific hat and butt-ugly dress. Not exactly the Posh Spice she’d pictured.
She was pretty sure Sarah was the one who’d gotten raisins in place of chocolate bars that year. Hell, maybe all of them had.
“One thing’s for sure, I don’t ever remember witches wearing black leather bustiers,” he said.
“Or spider-web patterned tights?” she said with an eyebrow wag. She so loved the tights.
“The skirt and those heels don’t hurt, either.”
Yeah, most witches probably didn’t wear flouncy, lacy black miniskirts, or screw-me shoes with silver chains around the ankles. All of which she’d donned to attract a guy who now held absolutely no interest for her, and which had instead drawn the eye of one she’d known forever, but had never really allowed herself to see until now. Strange, strange world.
“Back to the point. I noticed you, and then you smiled at me.”
Yes, she had. A big, friendly, please-don’t-figure-out-what-I’ve-been-thinking smile. “So I did.”
“You have an amazing smile. Welcoming and uninhibited.”
His tone was sincere, his eyes gleaming with something she couldn’t quite place. Tenderness? Maybe that. Chaz had always had a nice, tender streak, which other kids had tried to crush. Her included, on occasion.
“When I saw that gorgeous smile, and realized it was directed at me, I figured you felt it, too.”
“Felt what?” Right now all she felt was dazed by words she’d never expected to hear from him of all people.
He lifted a hand and dragged it through a long strand of her glittery, red-dyed hair, rubbing it lightly, then twining it in his fingers. “Attraction. Heat.”
His bluntness shocked her. “Are you serious?”
“Completely.”
She couldn’t speak, honestly could not find a word to say.
“I’ve surprised you again?”
Nodding slowly, she admitted, “Just
