Dream Wedding(26)

He pulled her against him again. She liked being close. For reasons she couldn’t explain, being with him made her feel safe.

“A wise old woman, and I do mean that, helped me see the light. She was a shaman and had to be close to a hundred years old. Anyway, this wise old woman once told me that every time people make love, they give away a piece of their soul. If one makes love with the same person again and again, eventually they exchange souls and that is what was intended for married couples. But if one makes love with many people, one will find oneself with nothing left to give to the one who matters. Worse, we end up with no soul of our own.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way, but the theory has merit,” she said.

“I agree. Now. At the time I was all of eighteen, and if I remember correctly, all I could think about was getting her great-granddaughter into bed, so I wasn’t the most appreciative audience.”

The music stopped. They broke apart and applauded. “Let’s go get some fresh air,” Arizona said.

She allowed him to lead her to the open patio at the far end of the room.

The night air was clear and balmy. She reminded herself she was working and should be trying to get a story from him. But she couldn’t think about anything but the man standing next to her. There was something about him—something that called to her. If she was the kind of woman who believed in destiny, she would be willing to admit he was the one for her. But she wasn’t and he wasn’t. Still, he was a very good time.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, leaning against the railing and drawing her against him.

She supposed she could have resisted, but she didn’t want to. She wanted to be next to him, to feel his arms around her again. It was almost like dancing, but they were alone in the shadows and the only music came from inside her head.

His face was so familiar, she thought. It was as if she’d known him forever. Had they really made love or had it just been a dream? Did he own a piece of her soul?

“What are you thinking?” he asked. “Sometimes you look at me and you get the strangest expression on your face. I always wonder if I have spinach in my teeth.”

“It’s nothing,” she said quickly. There was no way she could tell him she’d been thinking about that dream. He would want to know the details. He was already intrigued by the story of the Bradley family nightgown and the legend. She didn’t dare think what he would make of her story.

“It has to be something,” he insisted. His expression turned teasing. “I have ways of making you talk.”

“Some spell or curse?”

“Nothing that drastic.”

He tilted his head toward her. Instinctively she raised hers. This was not professional, she reminded herself, then she decided she didn’t care. They’d been heading toward this moment since they met. She wanted to kiss him. She needed to kiss him. She had to know if it was the same as she remembered.

His mouth brushed against hers. They weren’t standing all that close. His hands rested on her waist, hers were on his forearms. For a second—as her body registered the sensations of his heat, the firm softness of his mouth—she couldn’t do anything more than absorb what was happening.

Then she felt it. The absolute electrical jolt that shot through her. It was hotter and brighter than lightning. It was recognition and need and passion and color, as if every part of her being responded to this man. Even more terrifying, it was familiar.

She knew what he was going to do even before he parted his lips. She knew the taste and feel of him. She knew how his hands would slide up her back, how she would step into his embrace, how their bodies would fit together. The knowledge only increased her desire. She wanted him because being with him was so incredibly perfect, she thought as his tongue slipped into her mouth.

Her breasts swelled, that secret place between her legs dampened. She felt his hardness press against her hip bone. They breathed in sync. She tilted her head one way, he moved the opposite, so they could deepen the contact. Reunited lovers kissing for the first time.

It was better than she remembered, she thought, then wondered how she could remember kissing a man she’d never kissed before. The dream didn’t count. It wasn’t real. Then she stopped thinking because her brain shut down. She could only feel him next to her, holding her, touching her. Their bodies fit perfectly together. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her fingers in his cool, soft hair. His shoulders were broad, as was his chest. Every part of him had been put together with her pleasure and enjoyment in mind…or so it seemed.

Tongues circled and danced and mated. She wanted more from him. She wanted to feel him inside of her; she wanted him to claim her and mark her in the most primitive, primal way of all.