Nearly Departed in Deadwood (32 page)

      “No.” I needed a space suit to hide in. I crossed my arms, trying to cover my goosebumps with my hands. “Mona is waiting for us at the house.”

      “What’s going on, Violet?”

      I shoved a smile on my lips and glanced at him. “Nothing. I just have a lot on my mind right now.”

      He stuck the key in the ignition and the Camaro rumbled to life. “Are you worried about tonight?”

      Tonight? Oh, that was right. The Wild Pasque, seven o’clock, reservation under
Adelynn
. My secret admirer. “A little.”

      He backed out of the parking spot. “You should let Harvey hang out at a nearby table.”

      I didn’t want to discuss my pending date unless Doc wanted to take my secret admirer’s place across the table. I pointed toward the street. “Take a left at the Stop sign.”

      Doc obeyed without comment, but the little chirp of his tires after he turned and hit the gas spoke volumes.

      “Take another left up here onto Cemetery Street.”

      He followed, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

      “Left on Lincoln.”

      My seatbelt tightened as he stomped on the brake pedal harder than necessary.

      “Right on Jackson.”

      A muscle ticked in his jaw.

      “There it is.” I pointed at the yellow Victorian that matched the description that Mona had given before she headed out of Calamity Jane’s thirty minutes ahead of me.

      Doc pulled up in front of the white picket fence and cut the engine. “Listen, Violet—”

      “There’s Mona.” I scrambled out of the car before he could finish lecturing me again on how my obstinacy was going to land me in a mountain of trouble. As if that was something I hadn’t figured out by the ripe old age of ten.

      I heard Doc’s door slam behind me and forced my feet to walk rather than sprint up the sidewalk.

      Mona stood on the front porch, a smile spread across her face, her red hair and redder lipstick immaculate. “Hi, guys. Do you prefer lemonade, soda, or something stronger?”

      Lemonade would be the safest, I figured. “Got any rum?”

      “Uh,” Mona blinked twice, but held her smile. “Sure. You want me to cut it with a Coca-Cola.”

      No. “I guess so.”

      “I’ll just take a Coke,” Doc said as he crested the top porch step. He held out his hand toward Mona. “I don’t think we’ve officially met. I’m Doc Nyce.”

      “Mona Hollister.” Mona shook his hand. “Do you want to take a look around outside before we go in?”

      I glanced around the porch, biting back a whistle of appreciation. The gabled and gingerbread architecture screamed nineteenth-century splendor, but the hanging bench swing and lounge furniture were modern and in mint condition.

      “No, I’ve seen enough out here,” Doc said.

      For the first time since exiting the office, I took a close look at him, trying to read if there was any meaning behind his words.

      As his agent, I probably should have established some kind of secret codeword system on the way over here. Some way of letting me know if he liked the place or would rather roast marshmallows over it as it burned to the ground. Unfortunately, I was an idiot with a crush the size of Texas on the guy my best friend believed she was in love with—the guy who just also happened to be my only buying client. I’m sure after I explained that to Jane, she’d understand why Doc requested a real estate agent who was able to separate her job from her bed.

      Doc locked gazes with me, his brown eyes inscrutable, then he held out his hand toward the screen door Mona had opened wide. “Ladies first.”

      I stepped into a large, open foyer, filled with caramel-colored wood accents. Doc followed, inhaling, as usual.

      The house smelled like vanilla and lemons. Mona must have made the lemonade herself. Johann Pachelbel’s “Canon in D Major,” my mother’s favorite, floated in from the living room on the right, where plush chocolate carpet melted into buttercup walls. A cushy suede sofa and loveseat surrounded a round coffee table, on which a platter full of finger-sized sandwiches were laid out in a flower pattern.

      To my left was a formal dining room. The rectangular cherry table set for an elegant dinner for two, silver candlesticks and matching napkin holders included. The polished wood floor was covered by a burgundy Oriental rug that probably cost more than my Bronco.

      Mona closed the door behind Doc, shutting out the hot breeze that tried to shove inside. “I’ll just leave you two on your own to take a look around while I go pour some drinks.”

      As soon as she was out of earshot, I whirled on Doc. “There’s something I haven’t told you.”

      His lazy grin appeared. “There are lots of things I haven’t told you.”

      As if that was breaking news. “I’m talking about this place.”

      Doc quirked an eyebrow. “What about it?”

      “It’s expensive.” I didn’t want him to fall in love with it and then hate me later when I dropped the extra fifty-thousand-dollar price-bomb on him.

      “I’m not surprised.”

      I wrung my hands. “I should have told you sooner, but Mona thought I should get you here first, and she’s a better agent than I am. A much better one by the looks of it. I mean, check out those sandwiches. Who has time to cut the crust off bread? And I bet the curtain rods alone in this place cost more than I used to make in a month, not to mention the china place settings. You think that’s real gold leaf around the edges? I bet the kitchen is state-of-the-art, with expensive appliances and a flower arrangement perfectly placed on the counter. Wow, that fresh bouquet over on the mantel must have cost her a fortune. Oh my God, is that a Ming vase replica?”

      Doc’s laughter interrupted my nervous ramble.

      I glared at him. “You think this is funny? I’m standing here, realizing how inadequate I am as a real estate agent, and you’re enjoying the show.”

      “You’re not inadequate, Violet.” He grabbed my hand and tugged me toward the stairway. “Hopelessly stubborn, maybe. Lacking in common sense sometimes. But never inadequate.”

      I followed him up the stairs, my eyes locked on his hind end—what could I say? I was weak.

      There were three upstairs bedrooms and one large bath. Every room was immaculate, every piece of décor, chic. Who owned this place and why were they wanting to sell it? This was the kind of place I’d find in one of those fancy architectural magazines for people who had money growing out the ying-yang.

      Doc and I moved from room to room, him sniffing in closets and knocking on walls while I “oohed” and “ahhed” over the damask curtains, crown molding, and silk-like wallpaper.

      In the smallest of the three bedrooms, a narrow door opened to an even narrower staircase. Doc’s shoulders rubbed the walls as we descended into the shadows. At the bottom, my nose bumped into his spine. I backed up a few steps.

      “Is it locked?” I whispered. The soothing sounds of violins muffled by the door below.

      “No.” Doc hunched his shoulders and managed to turn around. “Why are you whispering?”

      “I don’t know,” I whispered again, feeling about eight years old. “It just seems appropriate, don’t you think? I mean, here we are, sneaking down the back stairs in the dark.”

      His eyes glittered in the feeble light leaking down from the open doorway above. As we stood there, staring at each other, the easy-breezy atmosphere between us grew heavy. So did my breathing.

      “Violet.” He grabbed my wrist and pulled me down a step. “Skip dinner tonight.”

      That again? Boy, when Doc sank his teeth into something ... “I can’t.”

      He towed me down another step. “Why not?”

      Our eyes were now level. So were our lips. I gulped. “Because his last poem had Addy’s name in it.”

      “That son of a bitch.” His grip on my hand tightened painfully for a split-second. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

      “What difference would it have made? This is my problem. Not Harvey’s. Not yours.”

      “Violet, I know you’re a very independent, strong-minded, capable woman.”

      “Yeah, right,” I said with a sarcastic buffer, but my insides warmed at his compliments. Most days I didn’t feel qualified to brush my hair, let alone raise two children on my own.

      “Add hard-headed to that list.” Doc tugged me down to the penultimate step. One big breath and our shirts would be touching. “However, there is one important attribute you are missing.”

      Just one? Hell, I could name ten off the top of my head. Which one was he referring to? “What’s that?”

      “This.” He leaned down, his cotton shirt rustling against my silk blouse.

      Holy moly, he was going to kiss me. I couldn’t let this happen. Shouldn’t let it happen. Natalie had staked her claim. I closed my eyes and pushed up onto my tiptoes to meet his lips halfway.

      Only I kissed the air as Doc squeezed my upper arm. I opened one eyelid.

      Doc was no longer leaning. Instead, he was grinning down at me in the shadows. “I was referring to your lack of muscles for hand-to-hand combat.”

      “Oh.” Well, didn’t I feel like the silliest sucker this side of the Mississippi? My core started to overheat, embarrassment steaming out my pores. “I am a girl, you know.”

      “Believe me, I know.” He crossed his arms over his chest and propped his shoulder against the wall. “Did you think I was going to kiss you?”

      “No. Of course not.” My whole body blazed with humiliation. I hoped Mona wouldn’t hate me forever after I spontaneously combusted and burned down her client’s beautiful house.

      “Liar.” He stared at my lips. “If I had kissed you, would that have been a good thing or bad thing?”

      “Bad.” I fanned my blouse, thinking about Natalie and how quick I was to toss my life-long loyalty to her out the window in exchange for just one kiss. “Really bad.”

      He grabbed my hand, the one I was using to cool my neck and chest. “Then that’s a problem.”

      I frowned up into his suddenly serious face. “Why?”

      “Because of this.” He hauled me against him and covered my mouth with his.

      He tasted salty, his lips soft at first, hesitant, coaxing; then hard, demanding. I sagged against his warm chest, my mind reeling. This was Doc. Dark, mysterious, dangerous Doc. I was kissing Doc.
Finally!
Well, he was actually kissing me, but that was something I planned to change right away. I wrapped my free hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down lower, closer, and took control of the kiss, my tongue teasing his into a response.

      His fingers squeezed my hand, his breath jagged, mirroring my own. “Violet,” he rasped and shoved me back against the wall. “You’re right.”

      I pulled my hand from his grasp; eager, impatient, wanting to touch and explore, nibble and lick. I had scars to examine, skin to study. “About what?” I asked, my hands tugging at his shirt while my mouth surveyed his jaw line, trailing toward his ear. His cologne filled my head, sending my sense and sensibilities floating up to the ceiling.

      His hands hovered around my stomach, hesitating. “It’s really bad.” He groaned as I sucked on his earlobe.

      “I know.” I grabbed his hands and moved them north, planting them on my chest. His palms scorched me through my shirt and bra.

      “Jesus, woman.” He growled against my neck. “Your hair smells like peaches.” His fingers came alive, fondling, caressing, rubbing. “I love peaches.” His teeth left a trail of fire along my collarbone.

      Any last qualms about Natalie, my job, and my principles burned up in the inferno roaring between us. I wanted Doc, now, right here in this dark stairwell, while Mona’s little sandwiches grew dry and crusty in the living room.

      Doc’s body crushed mine, my shoulder blades digging into the plaster wall. I lifted my leg and pressed my inner thigh against his hip, rubbing my boot up and down his leg as I dragged his mouth back to mine and thoroughly investigated his lips, nibbling. “You do things to me, Doc.”

      “I want to do more,” he said against my mouth, between long, wet, searing kisses. He hooked his hand under my knee, inching my skirt up my thigh while his hips ground into mine.

      “What’s stopping you?” I sure as hell wasn’t.

      He braced his hand on the wall beside my head. “We need to stop.”

      I nipped his lower lip, then kissed it better as my hands found hot flesh covering a ripple of abs. I didn’t think I could stop. I’d been too long without sex, too hungry for Doc’s hands and mouth on my skin. “You first,” I challenged him.

      Doc tore away from me so fast I almost fell down the last step. He backed up, bumping into the door behind him.

      I shook my head, feeling like I’d just been stampeded by a crash of rhinos. “What the hell?” I hadn’t expected him to take me seriously.

      “Mona,” Doc whispered, his chest heaving. “She’s calling your name.”

      Then I heard her as the blood rushing in my ears faded. “Vi? Where are you?” Her voice was muffled, but growing louder.

      Panic spread a fresh layer of dew on my skin. I looked at Doc. “What should I do?”

      He reached out and adjusted my shirt, fastening the top two buttons again. “Answer her.”

      “I can’t go out like this.” I touched my lips, blood still pounding in them. They felt swollen. “You go.”

      Doc chuckled and glanced down at himself. “This might be kind of
hard
to explain.”

      I admired his problem.

      “That’s not helping the matter any, Violet.”

      “Vi?” Mona sounded like she was upstairs now, nearing the open door above us.

      I heard a rattling sound and then I was blinded by a gush of daylight from behind Doc. I shielded my eyes.

      “Oh, look,” Doc said, pushing the door all the way open and dragging me into the light. “You were right about the kitchen.”

      After adjusting my skirt and shirt, I left Doc in the kitchen to cool off. I reached the main stairs just as Mona was coming down.