Sleepless Nights:The Donovans of the Delta 2(8)

“I’m also dyin’ to get my hot little hands on that ex-husband of mine. Would you mind dancin’ that way and sort of droppin’ me off? Dancin’ with you, I think I’ve made him jealous enough to rouse his interest.”

“Why, Evelyn Jo. I do believe you’re a devious woman.”

“No more devious than you, Tannah. Everbody heah saw the way you kissed Amanda.”

He grinned. “I never did learn to be subtle.” He maneuvered them across the floor and released her. “Save the last dance for me.”

Evelyn Jo winked. “It’s a date, you big gorgeous hunk of man.”

She blew him a kiss, then put a special hitch in her size-twelve hips as she walked toward her ex-husband.

Tanner turned swiftly back to the dance floor, his gaze searching out Amanda. She was near the French doors that led to the courtyard, being held much too close by her third dance partner. Being in the same room with her this long and not holding her again would be negligent, stupid, and downright sinful, Tanner decided as he strode toward her.

He loved the way her eyes widened when he tapped her partner on the shoulder.

“Do you mind if I cut in?”

After Amanda had been relinquished to him, he pulled her close and leaned down to whisper, “Do you think we’ll get arrested for what we’ve been doing?”

“And what is that, Tanner?” Her voice was cool and controlled, but he could feel the wild thumping of her heart against his chest.

He pulled back and smiled triumphantly at her. “Making love in public.”

“You’re insane.”

“I saw the way you watched me.”

“I didn’t—”

“Just as I watched you,” he said, interrupting her smoothly. “It was in your eyes, Amanda. The lovemaking. Remember how it used to be?”

“No.” He knew she was lying. The racing of her heart told him so.

“All it took was a look between us, that long gaze that was purely sexual. We did it with our eyes, Mandy. Even sitting in old Mrs. Brensley’s English class. She never knew that Shakespeare could be so erotic.”

“I’ve read that people often romanticize the past, Tanner.”

“Our past doesn’t need romanticizing. It merely needs remembering.”

“Funny you should say that.”

“Why?”

“Aren’t you the man who swore to bed me, but not for old times’ sake?”

“Yes. But I’ll do anything to promote my cause.”

“The nostalgia bit won’t work.”

“Then I’ll have to try something else.”

He maneuvered smoothly around the dancing couples and through the French doors. Still holding her close, he danced her across the moonlit patio until they were standing under the stone archway that led to the rose garden. One hardy, late-blooming rose sent its fragile fragrance to them on the chill December air.

Without thinking of the consequences, or even caring, Tanner bent down and captured her lips with his. The moment he touched that sweet flesh, he was lost. Gone were his intentions of taking what he wanted without feeling. Forgotten was his resolve to purge his mind and his soul by thoughtless coupling. The woman he held was special. No other woman, before or after Amanda, had ever kissed the way she did. Her spirit was in the kiss, a joyful, exuberant spirit that reached out and touched his very soul.

Against all his carefully laid plans, Tanner found himself kissing her with tenderness and feeling. A thousand remembered kisses replayed themselves as they stood under the pale winter moon. He felt her hands steal around his neck and lace through his hair. He felt the subtle shifting of her hips as they fitted themselves against his in the well-remembered way that used to make him lose all track of time. As the kiss deepened, he was caught up in the rhythmic way she moved against him.

He knew that she was lost, too. She could be his for the taking. Soon. Perhaps tonight. He could sense it. Instead of triumph, he felt a strange sort of sadness. Silently cursing himself for a fool, he broke the embrace.

“Now I know, Amanda.”

Even in the dim light of the moon he could see the flush on her cheeks. It was disturbingly appealing.

“Know what, Tanner?”

“What works with you.” Leaning casually against the stone archway, he studied her. “You like to be dominated.”

His words had the calculated effect. She went from flushed uncertainty to towering rage.

“You’re an arrogant, frivolous playboy, Tanner Donovan, and I thank my lucky stars that I jilted you.”

“You’re magnificent when you’re angry. You bring the same passion to your rages that you do to your bed.”