“Is this the line for hot cider?” she asked through those lush lips, full, ripe and begging for him to taste.
That voice, also familiar, nudged at the back of his mind even as his thoughts were already churning with the unbelievable notion that Clara’s prediction had come true. And he couldn’t do more than nod in response.
“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” she asked in a teasing tone.
A wry smile pulled at his lips. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
She raised her eyebrows warily over the top of the mask. “Try me.”
He shrugged. Why not? “This is going to sound corny as hell but a fortune-teller told me I was going to meet you tonight.”
She tilted her head back and laughed, a full, throaty sound that knotted his stomach and sent desire rushing through his body at breakneck speed. No woman before had ever made such an impact.
Only one had come close and he’d been too young to appreciate her.
“Tell me about that fortune-teller,” she urged.
He shook his head. “I’d rather not.”
She sidled up to him. “Then tell me about you.” Her green eyes sparkled with interest.
“I’m just a local.” He eyed her curiously, still wondering why that déjà-vu feeling hadn’t subsided.
“You’re not just anything,” she assured him flirtatiously.
That’s when he knew.
He immediately flashed back to their first meeting. “I’m just a skier,” he’d said in an attempt at false modesty. He’d wanted her to appreciate him, not the medals he’d won.
“You’re not just anything,” she’d said, those inquisitive yet knowing eyes boring into his.
The connection had been made, their bond solid from that moment on.
Jason swallowed hard and studied her now, attempting to see beyond the mask she wore to the intervening years they’d been apart. The same green eyes, those lips he’d kissed, the body he’d known as well as his own.
Blood rushed from his head to other demanding body parts as reality hit him. The woman behind the mask was Lauren Perkins and she apparently had no intention of admitting it.
Jason was curious as well as intrigued. She certainly had to recognize him.
Always up for a challenge, he decided to play along and pretend they were indeed strangers. “I appreciate the compliment,” he said, stepping closer, invading her personal space. “Despite the fact that you probably think the fortune-teller story is a corny pickup line.”
She grinned. “It’s not just a corny line, it’s the worst I’ve ever heard.”
A light burst of cold wind whipped around them and he inhaled her warm, seductive scent, increasing his interest as well as his desire.
He wondered what she wanted. And when she’d reveal herself.
“What if I told you I can do better?” he asked, still playing along.
“I’d tell you to go for it.” Lauren barely recognized her own deep, husky voice.
She’d made her way over here on trembling legs, determined to check him out up close. Foolishly believing she could handle him. She’d thought that whatever impact he’d had on her in the past would have died. She’d been wrong. The man he’d become packed more of a punch than the boy he’d been. He blew her away and she needed time to process her reaction. Flirting with him was fun and safe behind the anonymity of the mask.
“So what’s a gorgeous woman like you doing at this small-town festival?” he asked as they moved up in the line.
She swallowed hard. “I’m just passing through,” she said, keeping her explanation deliberately vague.
“Lucky me.” The words rumbled from deep inside his chest, reaching down to her soul.
They’d made out, they’d kissed, and he’d taken her virginity. He’d been her first and she’d never forgotten him, not even when she’d tried to convince herself she had. She’d also never forgotten the pain of coming back here and finding him gone.
He extended his hand just as the band switched to Cher’s “Dark Lady.” “Dance with me.”
He didn’t ask.
He commanded, in a gruff tone that had seduction written all over it and had her experiencing the same tremors of excitement and anticipation she’d felt when she used to sneak from her grandmother’s house to meet him late at night.
And he spoke with the certainty she remembered when he talked about heading to Vail to show his skills to Bud Keene, his dream coach. Jason Corwin was a man who went after what he wanted with blind determination.
He held his hand out and waited.
It was one dance, she thought, and a chance to have his arms around her again.
She placed her hand in his.
He led her to the makeshift dance floor in the center of the field and swept her into his arms, gliding rhythmically to the soulful beat of the music.
His fingers intertwined with hers and his hard body did crazy things to her insides as he pulled her against his chest. Warmth seeped through her, heightening her senses. She tried to keep her emotions in the past and concentrate on the delicious sensations he created inside her.
Couples moved around them in a blurry haze but he was all she could see. And feel. They might as well have been in a world of their own. This spiraling need and sense of euphoria had been missing from her life. She’d come alive again, the yearning for him overwhelming.
The day she’d discovered Jason was gone, she’d sworn she’d never fall under any man’s spell. She ran through life at breakneck speed, never slowing down long enough to get to know anyone-man or woman-well, and she liked it that way. She didn’t need a shrink to tell her why. What was the point of letting another human being in when all they’d do was find her lacking the way her family had, or leave her behind when something more important beckoned. Men came and went from her life when she had time for sex or a short relationship.
Yet here was Jason again, bewitching and entrancing her. Erasing the memories of her sister and her family problems, overpowering her dislike of this town and her reasons for being here.
She hadn’t sought him out for this. She’d just wanted a glimpse of him. To see how he’d changed. But they’d locked gazes across the field and she hadn’t been in control of her emotions or her actions since.
“Tell me about yourself,” he said, bringing her back to earth as he swept her around, her feet barely brushing the dirt on the ground.
She tensed at his question. Too much. Too personal.
But his intent, curious eyes never left hers as he waited for her to answer.
“I’m just visiting. You?” she asked.
“I live here.” Without warning, he spun her around with the combination of grace and strength that had made him a successful athlete.
His strong thighs brushed against hers, hard and demanding, awakening needs only he’d ever aroused.
“I like your mask,” he said, his eyes focused on hers.
“Thank you. I like that you aren’t wearing one. It lets me see your face.” She wanted to trace the strong lines of his jaw, explore the stubble on his cheeks.
“I like what I can see of yours,” he said, his voice huskier than before. “What made you choose that color?” He touched the edge of her mask with his finger.
“It called to me.”
His eyes darkened at her response. “Any chance you drive a red Porsche?”
She grinned. “It just so happens I do. How did you know?”
“It suits you for one thing. But there’s also the fact that this is a small town with few new people or cars. Yours stood out.” He paused, then added, “And so do you.”
He inclined his head until his forehead touched hers and the dance continued. The night was truly magical and she was forced to admit she wanted more than this one dance.