Chapter Eleven
Bastian was taking her to a hotel?
If Charlie didn’t know him better, she would have assumed he wanted sex. The Winchester Regency’s valet service, formal dining and the whole works oozed with adult elegance, but the smirk on his face belied a simple night of naked hokey-pokey. Nibbling the inside of her lip, she leaned forward to peer through the windshield. And what was up with borrowing Caz’s car? He never drove Caz’s Audi. Why didn’t he just use his own SUV? Something was rotten in Bastianville and it reeked of secrets.
“Why are we here?”
His golden head shook and a smile spread across his entire face, lifting his lips and crinkling his eyes. “Two minutes. You have two more minutes to wait. Think you can make it that long?”
“No and if I die of curiosity in the passenger seat, there’ll be some investigation and I hope some big burly cop locks your blond butt in a cell.”
A chuckle was his only reply. She huffed back in her seat. When his birthday rolled around, he’d better watch out. Maybe she would sign him up to give out free prostate exams or something.
The bright lights of the canopied archway shifted a slash of brightness across his face as he pulled to the front entrance. A red-coated valet sprinted toward the sports car like a puppy chasing a ball. He opened her door and Charlie had to push a swallow down her throat but she stepped out. The entranceway was blanketed by a deep blue carpet and potted greenery flanked the open glass doors. An older portly man and a gangly teen waited beside the doorway, both in black tuxedos.
“Dr. Talbot?” The skinny man-child approached cautiously.
Bastian’s brows shot up and he offered a hand. “Devin?”
Devin? As in cement-shoes-in-the-river Devin?
Devin jerked Bastian’s hand up and down like an oilrig as the older man joined them. No one acknowledged her presence. The males did the Y-chromosomal-bonding thing and Charlie fumed. Okay, this sucked. Everyone seemed to know what was going on but her. Bastian slipped a hand inside his jacket and handed a white envelope to the man but addressed the teen, expressing his thanks. Thanks for what?
Before she could kick her date in the shins, or slightly higher, Devin handed her a pink rose.
“Welcome to the Senior Prom, Ms. Pierce.”
“Prom?”
The bottom fell out of her world and she gawked at the flower. What prom? She never went to her prom. Her deadbeat boyfriend at the time had refused to take her. The entire night she’d sat in his dingy apartment while he watched the Playboy channel, feeling like Cinderella minus the fairy godmother. She told everyone he took her out for a special night on the town instead of some stupid cardboard school dance. She’d lied because it hurt too much to admit she wanted the high school magic. She’d never told anybody the truth…except Bastian.
A maddeningly smug look painted his face and he caught her eye with a wink. He was taking her the prom? Her mind tried to grasp the idea while he led her through the glass doors, down a hall and into a ballroom bedecked with streamers and teenagers. Candles flickered on linen-covered round tables tucked into shadows, and the dance floor teemed with swaying people in sparkling dresses. Young men preened like show ponies and girls batted mascaraed lashes at youthful heroes.
They looked like babies playing dress-up. Charlie stared. Had she ever really been that young?
“How did you do this?”
“I just bought tickets.” Bastian held a chair out and she sank into it, her knees vibrating harder than the DJ’s speakers. “And made a donation to the Athletic Boosters. And promised that Honeypot would behave tonight and not influence young, untainted, growing minds.”
A snort restored her mental balance. “Untainted? Please, do you know how many of these kids are regular listeners to our show?”
“Then think of all the good we’re doing by giving them the facts.” Bastian settled beside her and leaned an elbow on the table. “Gotcha.”
Her laugh sprang from a bubbling cauldron in her belly. She couldn’t have contained it with a five-gallon bucket. He had indeed surprised her. There was no way she could have ever expected this. Soft, squishy things she didn’t understand welled inside her. “Why?”
Tenderness softened his face and he palmed her crown, no longer a substitute brother but a potential husband. “Because, Charlie. Just because.”
“Because why? I mean, we’re way too old to be at the prom.”
“You’re never too old to be treated special. You told me you never went to your prom. I wanted to do something, one thing that you’ve never experienced, something sweet and innocent. This just seemed right.” From the back of her head down to her nape, his fingers stroked a slow line. “So tonight, there’s no sex kitten or radio doc, no Wed or Bed race, there’s just me and you at the prom. Dance with me, birthday girl.”
Some sort of fuzzy brain blanket covered her mind as Bastian box-stepped her around a horde of developing bustlines and testosterone peaks. It was just thick and cozy enough to surround her in the simple warmth of his embrace. Lights flickered and shone on his hair, while they swayed and dipped in the midst of a sea of adolescence and Charlie basked in the magic he created.
So the music wasn’t her style, and the crepe paper really detracted from the formal elegance of the ballroom, but something sizzling in the air hid all the hokeyness. Maybe it was the strength in his arm around her waist or the gentleness of his hand cradling hers, or maybe it was something mixed in the too-sweet raspberry punch. Whatever it was, it filled her with the most tender ache she’d ever felt. It persisted, delightfully, through a picture in front of the cardboard backdrop and a giggling cheerleader with a small hickey accepting a tiara.
Charlie got lost in the loving gaze of warm cocoa. She had no idea how many trips around the small dance floor they made, but each one wound him tighter and deeper into her soul. Burrowing her nose in the lapel of his jacket, she snuggled a bit closer. He knew her better than she knew herself. Had she known he planned to take her to the prom, she’d have balked and fought him, claimed he’d lost his mind. But for hours, he gave her something she hadn’t realized she’d missed—innocence. She loved him, and this night, this present without wrapping paper, was one she would always cherish.
“I’d do her in a heartbeat.”
The cocky male voice penetrated the haze of enchantment, pulling her head from Bastian’s shoulder. They locked eyes and smiled. Another voice floated toward them.
“Get over yourself, asshole. You can wet-dream all you like but she’s way outta your league.”
“Maybe, but I’d be damned if I said no when she’s giving it away. He’s stupid or something.”
“Did you ever think maybe he’s serious when he says he loves her?”
“Love can kiss my ass, dude. She wants it and he ain’t doing it. Stupid. Hell, I’m supposedly at my sexual peak. I’d give her a run for her money.”
Wickedness slithered up Charlie’s spine and she cocked her eyebrow. Bastian shook his head. “Oh, no. I promised you’d behave.”
“Bastian, do you really think I’d do anything…bad?”
“Yes. Bad is your middle name. They’re just horny kids who’ve spent the past hour looking at your ass. Let it go.”
“Can’t do that, medicine man. Inflated young male ego, must destroy.”
“What are you going to do?”
Tongue to her lip, she sent him her best bad-little-angel look. “Nothing too terrible.”
A soft groan sounded but he dropped his hand. Charlie turned toward the voices and spotted a small knot of large jock-types, the type that pursued her relentlessly in high school looking for easy tail. Her hips swinging in time to the ballad pouring over the air cemented their gaze far below her face. Two sets of eyes widened as she approached, one Adam’s apple bobbed and every set of eyes fell to her bustline.
She halted just before the pack and sent them a sultry look. The obvious leader slid his own appraising inventory over her. His hand slipped up to smooth his deep raven hair and he stepped in front of the others.
“Hello, Honey. Can I help you with something?” His voice held far too much ego, and Charlie could see how girls would fawn over the not-quite-a-man. She allowed her eyes to rake from his toes to his hair. The smile he flashed reeked of entitlement and inflated self-worth, and her inner bitch growled.
“Not even with a learner’s manual, little boy. And don’t call me Honey.”
The smirk froze before dripping off his face. Triumphant vibrations coursed through her bloodstream and she heard the rich timbre of Bastian’s laughter behind her. Confidence lifted her chin. She slid deeper into the knot of hormones. “So boys, who wants to ask a lady to dance?”
Four questions popped like balloons and wide palms shot out, waiting for her hand. With outrageous flirtation, she tapped each palm as if playing eeny-meeny-miney-moe but her gaze was occupied elsewhere. In the back of the group, one tall red-haired boy watched with a longing expression. Something in his eyes reminded her of Bastian, a gentleman who might wish but would never pounce.
Charlie parted the sea of jocks with a wave of her hand and stepped before him. “What’s your name, sugar?”
“S-Scott,” he stammered and straightened from a slump. He swallowed and his bow tie jumped but he offered his hand. “Would you like to dance, ma’am?”
“You can call me Honey, Scott, and I’d love to dance.”
She curled her fingers around surprisingly hard biceps and smiled up into a pleasantly astounded face. Scott’s shoulders pulled back in pride and he led her straight to the dance floor. Over her shoulder, Charlie winked at the group.
“Take notes, boys. A real woman prefers a man with some level of decorum. Sniffing dogs hold no appeal.”
The pack of teen wolves immediately turned on their own and ribbed the not-so-cocky-now male. Bastian snickered and returned to their table. Deep crimson flushed across the tall boy’s face, who seemed unsure exactly where to touch Charlie without really touching her, but soon she had him smiling and laughing in ease.
God, she was beautiful. The group she’d sauntered into stared in envy as the redhead spun her close to them and away. Bastian didn’t miss the delighted sparkle in the boy’s eyes or the gleam in Charlie’s. He especially didn’t miss the slight bored roll of her eyes when she looked at the previously cocksure teen leader.
His Charlie, she was beautiful and bad.
“Dr. Talbot? Everything is all set whenever you’re ready.” Devin’s quiet voice pulled Bastian from his study. The younger man’s grip in his hand was solid, steady and promised to finish growing into a powerful crush.
“Thanks, Devin. I can’t tell you how much help you’ve been.” Fishing inside his jacket, Bastian pulled out a second envelope. “I promised you Summer Kickoff tickets and some autographs.”
Wide green eyes engulfed the face gawking at the playbill. “You got the autographs? Linkin Park? Oh man, how did you manage that? Holy shit—I mean, thanks!”
“Wasn’t a problem.” Bastian fought a chuckle and sent a silent “thank you” to his musically connected brother. He motioned to Charlie’s chair and the stunned teen collapsed downward. A few minutes of chitchat restored his normal coloring. He gave a fast but detailed outline of the second part of Charlie’s surprise but a wistful element in his voice captured Bastian’s attention.
Devin constantly scanned the dance floor and surrounding area until he found a long-haired brunette in a sequined red gown. Once he spied her, his eyes dropped but would quickly seek her out again.
A quirk tickled Bastian’s lip. Ahhh, the first blush of puppy love, is there anything as sweet? “That your date?”
A frown zipped across Devin’s face. “Supposed to be, but…” He shrugged and turned his head. “You know how it is. I came stag.”
“Breakup, huh?” Remembering back to his own high school romances, Bastian winced. He leaned back, propped his elbow on the tabletop and assumed his best bedside manner expression. “What happened?”
Maturity brewed in the young man’s eyes, a facet he should not have at so tender an age. “I screwed up. She went on a trip with the Jazz Choir and I heard rumors…I was wrong but I just got so damn mad. Jealous, I guess. I said some things I shouldn’t and now…she won’t talk to me and I can’t blame her. I was the world’s biggest dick to her.”
Bastian rubbed his upper lip with a slow knuckle. “You could always just tell her you’re sorry.”
“I have. You think your Honeypot is evil? She can’t hold a candle to Melanie. My ears were blistered for a week after she got done telling me where to go. Every time Mel looks at me, it’s like she’s peeling off another layer of skin. Nothing can make it right. I don’t even know why I love her but…” Once more his eyes sought out the young girl. “I just can’t stop it.”
The depth and scope of emotion in those five words struck him. Charlie’s laugh pealed over the music. She was having the time of her life, and this child beside him had helped make that happen.
One good deed deserved another. Bastian rose from his seat, clamping a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder. Without a word, he strolled to the young brunette. She turned from her gaggle of giggling girlfriends and gaped at him when he asked her to dance.
Darkness pressed around her, and her free hand reached into the air at her right. It grazed a stone wall before plunging into nothingness. The sounds of teenaged laughter echoed from inside the ballroom. Bastian led her away with a gentle but commanding tug. Her heels sank into soft earth, shifting her off balance, and her fingers tightened around his automatically. Night wind heavy with the scent of roses wafted from the hotel patio, soothing after the heat of the dance floor. The fading strains of the music swept across the air, and her pulse leaped. Her prom, such as it was, had been wonderful. She hated surprises. But this one had been…wow.
The fortress around her heart cracked, a fissure running up the walls threatening the foundation. Tremors coursed through her, fueled by fear and something bitter she was afraid to examine. Inside the long white gloves, her palms began to sweat. She shrank from the introspection, and her bitch burst forth.
“I can’t see a thing. You’re going to mess up my hair. Take this blindfold off right now.”
His chuckle caressed the outer shell of her ear and a shiver shimmied through her belly. “Just hold my hand and trust me a minute, will you?”
Her snort grated the stillness. “The last man I trusted with a blindfold left me alone while he went and got a beer.”
Cold stone met her bare back as she was pressed against some sort of wall. The icy smoothness seeped into her spine. This wasn’t Bastian. Bastian was sweet and gentle, the perfect high-school date. Dr. Hot, the naughty boy hiding a sexual verve behind the airwaves, ground against her until her knees turned to watery jelly and her panties flooded with warmth. Roses faded from the night and the pure essence of a hungry man filled her nostrils. Greedily, she breathed deep.
Firm hands cupped her shoulders, fingers biting into skin that craved his touch. Heated breath warmed her cheek. A drum beat beneath his ribs, pounded against hers, and her nipples beaded in want. He wasn’t kidding when he’d said he was nowhere near submissive. Trapped by his body and blinded by cotton, she wanted to beg for his dominance.
His voice, jazz laced with the pulse of blues, licked along her skin. “Never again, do you hear me? I don’t want to hear about what you did or who you did it with ever again. They don’t exist. Ghosts, all they are, are ghosts. Let them die a slow death because you belong to me. If there’s a blindfold in our future, you can bet your sweet ass I won’t be leaving you to go get a fucking beer.”
Fruit punch blended with spearmint on his tongue, a tonic of heady and immediate lust. The barrier of her gloves prevented her from feeling him and, although longing tore through her, Charlie knew it was for the best. It would be too much if she could actually feel the skin that warmed her fingers. But there was no masking the insatiable need in the mouth plundering hers or in the growl emanating from his chest.
Her hands slid around his waist and up his back under his jacket. Hard muscles tensed. Pushed her back. Covered her. Heated her. Enflamed her. A scored line of nips and kisses marked her neck. Hunger spiked her stomach, twisting it into a ball aching to be filled, nourished and sated.
The blindfold stole her sight but Bastian inundated her with the scent, taste and sound of his yearning. The feel of him—hard, ready, almost angry in his claim—weakened her knees and thrilled her blood. She snagged his bottom lip with sharp teeth and drove her tongue deeper, to taste him deeper, to take him deeper. God, she couldn’t wait to get him into bed. He’d barely touched her, and a pulsating ache stretched inside her.
His tongue lapped at the corners of her mouth then dipped beneath her chin, along the hollow of her throat and down. His hands sizzled upward, from her waist to her ribs and higher. She didn’t anticipate the cool breeze flitting across suddenly exposed nipples when he yanked the bodice of her gown down in one harsh tug. The moist inferno of his mouth captured one peak and a cry wrenched from her belly. All her active senses lasered on Bastian—his hands cupping her, his mouth sucking at her breast, his scent filling the night. A husky rasp of his breath echoed beside her heartbeat, loud and frantic in her ear. Her eyes saw nothing but black.
A quick nip with his teeth bowed her back. “Bastian, please.”
“Beg me.” He lightly bit her nipple again. “I want to hear you beg me, just me. No other man.”
“Oh God. I’ll beg. Please, just please, touch me.”
The tight confines of her dress strained as she parted her legs, waiting, aching for him to slide his hand up and cup her wet center. His hands cupped her face instead. A soft kiss skimmed her gasping mouth.
“No. Not yet. The next time I touch you, I’ll be touching my wife.” He tugged the bodice back into place.
Charlie stood in stunned rejection. Blood was pumping through her at breakneck speed and he stopped? “You bastard.”
“Hey, I play dirty. You want me? Marry me.” He caught her hands before she could rip the blindfold away. “Can’t take the same stuff you’re dishing out?”
“Screw you!”
Shoving his hands away, she tore the blindfold off and threw it at him. Every cell in her body quivered with unfulfilled yearning. She stomped away, the clicks of her heels like gunshots in the night. The sidewalk rimmed a dark golf course and she was in the mood to swing a club at a few balls in particular so Bastian better stay away. He did, following at a slower pace. She wanted to turn around and smack the smug smile off his face. How dare he? Of all the names she’d ever been called, a cock tease wasn’t one of them. Bastian, on the other hand…
Grumbling under her breath, Charlie rounded the stone wall separating the golf course from the parking lot.
She stopped dead in her tracks. An open carriage pulled by two snowy white horses stood waiting, as if Cinderella was about to run from the ball at the stroke of twelve. Devin jumped down from the driver’s seat, which was also occupied by a young girl in a sparkly red dress. He placed a carriage block step in front of the coach, bowed low and extended a welcoming arm.
“Your carriage awaits.”
“My what?”
“Your carriage.” Bastian walked to the coach and held out his hand. “Come take a ride with me.”
Chest heaving with sexual frustration and knees trembling with anger, Charlie stared at him. He’d rented a horse-drawn carriage? Wasn’t that only for weddings? What the hell kind of fairy-tale crap was he trying to pull? He’d just sexually sent her senses swirling and now he wanted to play Sir Galahad? No way was she going to…
Somehow her gloved hand slid into his.
He helped her up the step and into the carriage bed. She caught Devin’s smirk as he leaned into Bastian. “Dr. Talbot, you might want to, uh, wipe the lipstick off.”
Bastian swiped his palm across his mouth then grinned. “Back at ya, Devin.”
Devin blushed and scrubbed at his lips. His eyes darted toward the front seat. “Mel said she’d keep me company. Thanks for whatever you did when you danced with her.”
“No problem.” Bastian vaulted into the carriage.
The carriage jostled slightly as Devin jumped back beside the young girl. He snapped the reins, and the horses’ hooves clop-clopped on the blacktop. Bastian settled beside her and stretched his long arm along the seatback. “Surprised?”
“You could say that.” Charlie shook her head. “Why are you doing this? I’m a sure bet. You don’t have to try this hard.”
“I don’t want your body. Strike that, I do. I just want it for more than a night or two.” He toyed with the back of her hair. “I know you can screw me into a puddle. I understand that you need me as your friend. I get that if I was down to my last dollar, I could turn to you. I just want you to feel like my princess, my queen, my everything. There aren’t words to tell you how much I love you, so I’m trying to show you.”
A shiver danced along her skin, and Bastian reached down to the floorboard. A red-and-white letterman’s jacket that had seen better days was wrapped around her shoulders. She didn’t have to see the school emblem or the boy’s name on the back to figure out it had been Bastian’s a long time ago. She fingered the frayed cuffs and her eyes welled. She buried her face in the fabric, inhaling the sweet scent of cedar but imagining the fragrance of cold football game nights, uncontrolled teenaged hormones and stolen beers in a backseat.
Once upon a lifetime ago, she’d watched other girls proudly sporting their boyfriends’ school jackets or jerseys. She’d scoffed at the immaturity. She didn’t need high school theatrics. The men, not boys, she dated had long outgrown such childish nonsense. But deep down, she’d longed to feel that much connection with one person. She’d never found it until Bastian.
Fighting back her tears, she burrowed against his side and just let the rhythmic sound of the horses’ gait soothe her. In front of them, the girl’s arm looped through Devin’s and her head rested on his shoulder. Charlie squeezed her eyes shut. Bastian was giving her back a bit of innocence, a watery dream she’d never admitted to having.
The carriage stopped near a bright glow. Bastian hopped out and held his hand to her. She thrust her arms into the jacket before climbing out. It engulfed her and made her feel small, feminine and completely cared for. The night sky was decked in light. Hundreds of strands of white Christmas lights outlined a gazebo, illuminating the darkness and shining down on a picnic for two.
The carriage pulled away and Bastian led her under the lights.
“Where’s he going?”
“Back to the prom. The carriage is for the King and Queen. We just borrowed it for a few minutes.”
“And all this?” She twirled, looking up into thousands of twinkling lights.
“Part of the hotel’s summer display. I got them to turn on this section for a little while.”
A laugh poured from her. “And champagne? Nice. What’s in the basket?”
“Foods for the adult palate. Not a potato chip in sight, I promise.”
He fed her from his fingers—thin slices of melon, salty caviar, spicy prosciutto and buttery wafers. The champagne bubbles paled next to the joy fizzing in her body. A satisfied grin curved his mouth as he hit a button on a portable radio. Sultry music filled the air.
“I wanted to dance with you again, without teenage eyes watching. Dance with me, birthday girl.”
They danced to music from their generation, holding each other close. Hands slipped to caress and touch, stroke and tease, caught in a slow loop of foreplay that simmered rather than blazed.
When one song faded, Bastian pulled his mouth from hers and tucked a hand in his jacket pocket. A ring box appeared and her breath caught.
“It’s not what you think,” he said. “I wouldn’t do that. But I would like you to have this.” His high school class ring sparkled on a bed of white. The chunky gold held his initials and a football on each side of an oval ruby. His smile was a little goofy. “Okay, so it seems juvenile but…go steady with me?”
Charlie laughed, the loud burst echoing off the gazebo roof. “You’re crazy. No one goes steady anymore. They go straight from flirting to oral sex.”
He shrugged and slid the heavy ring on her finger. “Not us. We are steady. Solid. Unchanging. Forever. I never actually gave this to a girl in high school so you’re the first. Say yes. Consider it practice.”
Her heart leaped in her chest and something bounced around her stomach. Her lips were dry and her throat scratchy. Her answer whispered out.
“Yes.”