She made quick use of the hair dryer and diffuser, scrunching her curls and then swiping her mouth with her cherry lip gloss. She used a small amount of mascara on her lashes then pulled on the black lace thong and matching push-up bra.
Silently she thanked her best friend for talking her into buying the bra because tonight she wanted to make the most of what she had. Rolling thigh-high hose on, she smoothed her hands up her legs. Olivia studied her reflection in the full-length mirror, knowing what she’d see. A woman bent on seduction.
She ruthlessly shut down the memories of ambulances. This time would be different. This time she would control that savage thing that lurked inside her. She just hoped Micah appreciated the trouble she was going to.
Olivia stepped into her skirt, zipped it up then checked the appearance of the slit in the side as she took a step forward. Perfect. Just enough leg. She hummed her satisfaction, stopping when she realized it sounded more like a low growl. Get it together, Olivia, or you will have only yourself to blame-and you’ll have to satisfy yourself…again.
She pulled her blouse on and buttoned it with hands that shook slightly. She’d never allowed herself to even consider this-not since that night she’d terrified herself and her boyfriend. Micah-something about Micah made her crazy. That afternoon’s self-exploration hadn’t taken the edge off this attraction.
If anything, it had only added to it. Still, she’d have to keep her wild side in check. He didn’t look like the type to scare easily, but you just never knew. At least he was big enough to defend himself if she did get out of hand. Olivia glanced at the ever-present medicine bottle.
“No, no and no. I am not going to dull myself with that junk. Tonight I can handle this. I will not turn into some crazy monster woman.”
One last look in the mirror and she stepped into the heels that had cost her one and a half freelance articles. Sylvie, her best friend, called them CFM shoes. Olivia had only asked her once what that stood for, but once had been enough. “Come fuck me” indeed. She dabbed a small bit of perfume on her wrists, the base of her throat and between her breasts.
One hand on the railing gave her confidence on the sky-high heels as she descended. Mouthwatering aromas rose to greet her. She inhaled deeply and smiled. If she didn’t know better, she could swear that in all the many smells coming from the kitchen, Micah’s wove in and out. She shook her head. No way could she smell the man. She really needed to get that out of her head.
Olivia pushed her plate back with a sigh. “You’d better be right about me burning these calories off during the day or I’ll never fit into my clothes again!” She smiled at her dinner companion.
He leaned away from the table, rocking his chair back on two legs. A slow smile curved across his face as he nodded. “Shall we have coffee on the couch? I’ll throw a few logs on the fire if you don’t mind getting it? I take mine black.”
It felt natural to clear the dishes as Micah moved to the wood hopper to build the fire up again. Olivia rolled her neck then set the plates on the counter. She poured the coffee and turned back to find Micah right there.
“You move so fast and so silently. You nearly wore this coffee.” She looked at his hand now holding one of the cups. He’d grabbed it in self-protection. “I didn’t even know you were there.”
“Didn’t you?” His soft voice held a note of question. Olivia just shook her head and laughed at him. His eyes shifted color again. She didn’t know how he did that. She’d never met anyone with changing eyes. They seemed to catch the firelight, throwing it back at her. His eyes narrowed as his nostrils flared slightly. He leaned toward her. Instinct had her backing up until she hit the counter.
Micah slid forward, putting his arms on either side of her. She heard the clink of his coffee cup landing on the counter behind her. She should feel trapped-instead she felt the heat of his gaze burning her. Olivia tilted her head up as her tongue darted out over her lips. His eyes tracked the movement and she knew a kiss had to be next.
Instead, Micah drew soft knuckles down her cheek. “Come to the couch, Olivia. Let’s talk.”
She followed him to the sofa, drinking in the way his shoulders moved. And his ass. Olivia heard her own small sigh. The man had the nicest rear she’d ever seen. Everything about him seemed sculpted and perfect. Her nipples tightened. What would he feel like naked under her hands?
“Olivia?” Micah turned back to her. His eyes seemed to melt when he looked at her. She turned her head to the side, embarrassed by her own thoughts.
“Sorry.” She offered him a smile. “I got caught up in thinking about my article.”
He folded himself down to the couch, patting a cushion beside him. “Sit and tell me what you’re writing. I’m fascinated to hear what you have so far.”
Olivia launched into her article. She spoke for some time until the crackling of the fire distracted her. “I’m sorry. You must be bored stiff.” She smiled at Micah.
“On the contrary, I think you’re incredible. To take what we did and turn it into that is amazing to me. I can’t do that. You are a natural-born storyteller.”
Olivia felt her skin warm at the praise. “Thank you, Daddy always said…” her voice trailed off.
“Olivia?” Micah reached out to stroke her hair.
“I’m sorry. That’s so unusual for me to remember my birth father. I just had this clear memory of him laughing at me and telling me I was born to tell tales like my Babushka.”
“Babushka? Isn’t that Russian?”
“I think so. My birth name was Volksson.”
Micah jerked. “I know some Volkssons but they live in upstate New York above Buffalo.”
“Really? I tried to find family once. I was sixteen and found my adoption papers. I mean I knew I was adopted but I thought maybe I could find someone who would know.” She stopped herself. “Sorry, it was just a girl’s dream of wanting to belong to someone.”
Micah wrapped a long arm around her shoulders. Olivia let herself lean into him. “I’ve always wanted to belong to someone, you know? I had family with the Decaturs until I kill…until they died.”
Micah’s soft voice rasped in her ear. “Killed them? Olivia, you told me they died in a car wreck.”
A shudder racked her as she took a deep breath. “Micah, I was thirteen. We were driving home from a band concert. My mother and I were arguing about whether or not I could go to the Harvest Dance. I remember it all so very clearly. The moon looked like some giant spotlight and I thought if I didn’t get to go to that dance, I might as well die.
“Then I don’t know what happened. Something must have run out in the road. When I came to, I was standing by this oak tree. My clothes were ripped and torn. They were hanging off me. I saw the car. Oh god, the car.” She stuffed a hand over her mouth as tears filled her eyes.
“Sweetheart, you don’t have to talk about this. It was an accident. You didn’t do anything.”
She felt him drop a soft kiss on her head. “No, I want to tell you this. It’s important. My therapist tells me to let these things out. So I saw the car. It was upside down and there was smoke pouring out. I ran to it. I still don’t know how I did this but I got the door open and I pulled my dad out. He was…he was already gone.
“Then I got Mom out. She was still alive. But when she saw me, oh Micah. When she saw me,” Olivia curled in closer to his warmth, “she screamed at me to get away from her. She called me a monster. I knew then that I’d done something. I’d caused the wreck. She died screaming at me, Micah.” Olivia turned tear-filled eyes up to him. “And I don’t know why.”