Page 90 of Just Killing Time


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She told herself she hadn’t been looking for him all evening, hadn’t been wondering where he was, and with whom. Lots of people had drifted in and out of the party, going inside to get warm, taking hayrides, or visiting the haunted house set up in the garage of the inn. She’d visited all those areas and hadn’t seen him once.

“Had to search hard for your costume, hmm?”

He shrugged. “What can I say? Might as well wear what feels good. My gear at home isn’t nearly this clean, and it’s made of much sturdier fabric.” He grinned, his teeth shining white in the semidarkness. “But I liked the fireman’s hat.”

She laughed, eyeing the plastic hat, which looked like the ones little boys used to played firefighter.

“Besides,” he added, “it suited my personality.”

“I thought the whole point of dressing up for Halloween was to be someone completely different from your personality. To hide who you are.”

He looked at her intently, those dark eyes glittering in the dancing light of the bonfire. His gaze slid across her hair, which she’d pouffed up in a bob, to her bare shoulders and the thin black straps of her fringed dress. “You didn’t stretch too far, did you?”

Oh, right. L.A. Goth to Charleston-dancing twenties girl.

He probably saw her skepticism. “You look like an incredibly sexy, beautiful woman, which is exactly what you are in real life, isn’t it?”

She almost dropped the camera. “Oh, please.”

“Please what?”

She wasn’t about to be one of those women who turned away compliments just so they’d be repeated. She knew she wasn’t beautiful and the last thing she wanted was for him to try to convince her she was. How utterly embarrassing. How…how Ginger-ish.

“Please drop the Latin lover bit. You don’t need it with me.”

Her jab didn’t faze that always calm exterior. “You know me better than that. Actually, you know me quite well, don’t you?”

She shook her head, but he interrupted her protest. “Oh, you do. You see everything through that camera lens, and the invisible one in your mind. I’ve seen you watching me since that first ride in the limo. Just as I was watching you.”

“Why?” she asked, almost unable to believe this conversation was really happening. “Why me? Why when there are so many other women here, more beautiful, more available, hell,nicerwomen all around you?”

He raised his hand to run a few fingers through a wisp of her hair, tucking it back in place beside her ear, then smoothed one fingertip across her cheekbone. She sighed, her cheek curling helplessly into his hand.

“You’re unique. You’re wounded. You’re funny. You’re beautiful.”

She shook her head.

“And you’re obviously in need of a bad-ass man to take care of your every bad-ass need.”

She shook her head as he threw her own words back into her face. “I think you’ve been drinking too much hard cider.”

He held up his fingers in a Scout’s honor sign. “Stone sober.”

“Halloween dementia.”

“Just a little honesty between friends under the stars.”

She looked up at those stars, brilliant in the dark blue sky, wondering if this conversation was really happening. If the warmth she felt was merely the weight of her covers as she dreamt this conversation, or if Digg was really here, close and warm and solid. “Please…”

“Please what? Please go back to being the nice jogging partner you’ve spent this week with? Please be like the rest of the world who sees the tough veneer and ignores the perfect paleness of your skin and the sparkle of your eyes?”

Jacey thought those were the most words she’d heard Digg speak at one time, but she wanted him to stop. She couldn’t have this conversation. Hadn’t she been avoiding a serious conversation with him from the moment she’d become aware of these powerful sparks between them?

But it appeared Digg wasn’t abiding by the rules. Though it wasn’t really Halloween, he was honoring the holiday by being daring, risking danger and pushing them both toward a line she’d thought they wouldn’t cross.

“You want me to pretend I haven’t noticed the curves you hide under your black, shapeless clothes?” He stepped closer, glancing down at her body, separated from his by no more than an inch. Everywhere his eyes caressed her, she reacted, until her legs were shaking and her breasts aching sensitively against the dress.

“You should get back to the party,” she said. Even to her own ears, her voice was weak and unconvincing.

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