"Cold?"
"A little."
"Why do women wear dresses without sleeves this time of year?"
"Why do men wear heavy suits in the summer?"
"Women make us."
A fresh breeze blasted hard enough to send the remaining fall leaves skittering around them. Christie shivered. Rick pulled her toward the doorway of one of the shops, where a window display jutted outward, providing a shelter from the wind. "Here." He slipped his jacket off and draped it over her shoulders. "You wear the suit for a change."
The jacket was warm from being on him. It smelled like Rick, too, a scent she recognized without being able to define it. He studied her for a moment with a look of mock appraisal, and Christie felt more dizzy than she had half an hour ago from the wine.
He took the bougainvillea blossom from her hand and tucked it into the button of the jacket's lapel. "There," he smiled. "Perfect."
He patted down her shoulders, and slowly the smile faded.
In his eyes was a replay of the look from across the room, only this time at much closer range. Even the crickets seemed to get quieter. Then Rick muttered something under his breath that Christie couldn't quite make out, and brought his mouth down to hers.
It never occurred to her to stop him.
First kisses weren't supposed to be like this. There was no fumbling, no hesitation, just an immediate connection, as if he'd thought about this for a long time. It was gentle at first, but not quite tentative, building slowly as she responded. And it was thorough. She hadn't believed a kiss could literally make you weak in the knees, until now. The only problem was that it ended.
He raised his head, but his hands stayed on her shoulders. "I shouldn't have done that." His mouth was still close to hers.
"No," she agreed, not moving. "It was a terrible idea." She put her arms around his neck, and he moved forward, closing the rest of the space between them. His mouth covered hers again.
She knew this couldn't go anywhere. She knew there was no point. But she'd already thrown reason out the window. All she could think of was making the moment go on as long as she could. What was it her mother said? Might as well be hanged for stealing a sheep as a lamb? Whatever it was, she wasn't acting on mother's advice right now. If this was temporary insanity, she wanted it to last.
"This is crazy," Rick whispered, echoing her jumbled thoughts. Then he kissed her again, and she stopped thinking at all.
She leaned back against the door frame behind her, drinking in the warmth of his closeness. Slowly, his hands left her shoulders, one going up to wind his fingers through her hair. The other slipped under the jacket to circle her waist. Christie couldn't believe she'd been cold a few minutes ago.
He finally raised his lips from hers, and for a moment she was afraid he was going to let go. Instead, he bent his head down to the side of her throat. "I knew you'd be trouble," he murmured. There was a huskiness in his voice that she'd never heard before. His lips brushed over her skin, and a tiny moan escaped from the back of her throat. She felt Rick's arm tighten around the small of her back. Christie sighed. This temporary insanity thing would have to-
Suddenly Rick froze and took two steps back, as if she were a live coal. A moment later Christie understood why. Footsteps. The muffled sound on the cobblestones was like a burglar alarm.
What had they been thinking? Work wasn't miles away; it was yards away.
She stood upright from the door where she'd been leaning, and Rick's jacket fell to the ground. They both dove for it. Christie got it first, handed it to Rick, then spun around to look into the shop window they'd been oblivious to just moments before. Behind her, she could hear Rick hastily shrugging his jacket back on.
The window held a display of expensive-looking antique furniture. "I love the Victrola," she said, amazed at the normalcy in her voice.
"Probably a reproduction," Mr. Arboghast's voice said behind them.
Whew. It didn't get any closer than that. Christie turned, and there the boss stood with his wife. Both of them were smiling benignly. No sign that either one had seen anything amiss. "What are you kids doing out here?" Mr. Arboghast said.
"Window shopping," she said.
"You picked out a great place, Ed," Rick said. "It sure beats the Ramada Inn last year."
"Oh, Francis gets the credit for that." Mr. Arboghast patted his wife's hand, tucked through his arm.
"I told him about it," she explained. "I was here for a luncheon this summer."
As the small talk went on, Christie had time to calm down and start mentally kicking herself for her stupidity. Finally Mr. Arboghast walked away, his wife on his arm.