“Now that you mention it.”
He swung off his cape like a bullfighter, wrapping it around her before she could stop him.
“Shame to cover up that costume, though,” he said. “I think it’s even hotter than a French maid’s outfit.”
“Wear one often, do you?” Her smile was all teeth.
He rubbed his hands up and down her arms, making her shiver even harder. “Yes, and I always keep my feather duster with me. You never know when it might come in handy.”
She pulled away. Damn him for not losing his sense of humor out East. She’d always loved their banter, and they way he never seemed to be at a loss for a comeback.
“I need to go back inside.” Her black heel caught in the crack between the deck boards.
His hands steadied her. “You ran out here in that scanty outfit to escape me, and now you’re running back in? This has to stop, Jill.”
She thrust her staff in his direction. He didn’t budge.
“You need to leave me alone.”
His eyes met hers dead center. “I’ve tried. I can’t, Jill. Your little lie about McBride pushed my buttons. It forced me to accept the truth.”
“That’s your problem,” she said, but a hitch in her voice betrayed her.
He spanned her waist, his thumbs tangling in the front laces of her outfit. “You wouldn’t be this upset if it wasn’t your problem too. Can’t you forgive me, Jill? Jemma has.”
“Fine, you’re forgiven,” she said even though she didn’t mean it. “Now let me go.”
He pressed his forehead to hers suddenly, resting the rubber mask against her skin. “I can’t let you go, Jill.” His sigh caressed her cheek. “Take off my mask.”
She tried to kick him, but he slid a hard, muscled thigh between her legs, right above the garter that held up her stockings. Her thighs clenched together around him, and she was afraid her head would fall back in surrender. Her skin was both burning hot and cold, like winter exposure.
“Let me go.”
“Take off my mask.”
Even cold and aroused, she knew his unmasking was metaphorical too.
“Dammit, Jill, take off my mask.”
“No!”
His mouth curled. “Fine, if that’s how you want it.”
He slammed his lips against hers, mask and all. The impact rocked her back on her heels. He followed, his hands fisting around her waist. Her mouth opened. His tongue swept inside. The feel of it had her body screaming, her muscles clenching hard in response. She dropped her staff and gripped his head.
After so many years of wanting him, her body was screaming Yes, God, yes.
He changed the angle of their kiss, deepening it, his cold leather gloves settling on her even colder butt. He thrust his hips forward, making her stomach seize. She wanted him. Now. Was about to make the biggest mistake of her life.
His breath fanned out in short puffs, matching hers. “Let’s get out of here.”
A scream broke through her aroused reverie. Brian lifted his head as shouting erupted in the house behind them, and both of them turned to look inside. People were running everywhere, yelling at the top of their lungs.
“Something’s wrong. We should get inside.”
He pushed her toward the door.
All traces of the party had evaporated. Women were crying, mascara running down their cheeks. The few men who weren’t wearing masks had the shocked, rubbernecking look people get near a fatal car crash. A few people were kneeling down over something. Jill edged closer, but then stopped in her tracks when she caught sight of a sandaled foot lying lax on the worn green carpet.
“Oh my God,” she whispered as the shock hit, and a tremor ran through her body.
She looked higher and saw that some guy was shaking Jemma, who was lying supine on the floor, Ray beside her.
“Jem!” she screamed.
“Christ!” Brian pushed through the crowd. He knelt by Jemma and pressed two fingers to her neck, looking for a pulse. He thrust the guy away with a hard shove and tugged off his mask. Turning her head, he started CPR.
“I don’t know what happened,” Ray cried, wringing his dark green costume. “She stopped breathing.”
Jill edged closer. She watched Brian count in between breaths, his cupped hands making compressions on her chest.
“Call an ambulance, Jillie,” he yelled and then lowered his mouth to Jemma’s again.
She fell back, hitting people. Oh, God. Where was her purse? “I need a cell phone! Now” she shrieked.
“Here!” a girl cried out to her right, thrusting something at her.
Jill dimly realized she was dressed as Barbie before opening it and dialing in three scary numbers with a shaking finger.