The man’s moods were chameleonlike. Sunny wished she could recover from their sexual bantering as rapidly and with as much skill as he.
He took a metal saltshaker—the ugly, industrial kind with a handle—down from the pantry and shook it over the bowl of popcorn. Then he dribbled the melted butter over it.
Sunny watched the golden, liquid butter trickle through the fluffy white kernels. She decided that the only thing that smelled better than freshly popped popcorn and melted butter was Ty Beaumont. His cologne was potent enough to attract her, but elusive enough to tantalize instead of overwhelm.
He wiped the last drop of melted butter from the rim of the pan before setting it aside. Lifting his coated finger to her lips, he painted them with the butter until they were slippery and shiny.
Apparently all his neighbors had gone inside. No longer were sounds of activity coming from beyond the doors of his house. The sun had slipped far enough below the horizon to bathe the kitchen with its vermilion afterglow. The atmosphere was warm and still and silent. He emanated heat. His fingertip was smooth and firm as it unhurriedly smoothed the butter over her lips.
Sunny’s heart was pounding so hard it frightened her. Perhaps that was why she spoke his name with such an imploring, puzzled inflection. “Ty?”
“Hmm?”
His open mouth moved down to hers. He barely touched her lips, only exchanged breath, until he felt her yearning body strain up against his. He flicked his tongue over her buttery lips, making low, hungry sounds deep in his throat. Licking, tasting, his tongue was nimble and wet and suggestive. Her lips parted and reached for his. Her breath came in rapid little puffs.
When she thought she might lose her mind from suppressed longing, his tongue finally breached her lips and flirted with the tip of hers. Then, making a savage sound, he pressed his lips firmly against hers. They were slick, and the slip-sliding friction was breathtakingly sexy.
“You know I still want you,” he growled, keeping his lips against hers. “Don’t you?” She whimpered an answer that was unsatisfactory to him. “Don’t you?”
“Yes,” she said, and moaned. She couldn’t very well deny it when the rigid evidence of his want was rammed against her softness with a swift, masculine thrust. Mindless of the consequences, she cuddled it between her thighs and, coming up on tiptoes, rode it gently.
Ty cursed scandalously into her mouth, before filling it with his tongue. His large hands spread wide over her back and pulled her so close that her breasts were flattened against his hammering heart.
Beyond thought of anything else—his obscure past, hers—Sunny threaded her fingers up through his dark blond hair and held his head fast while the fires in her belly spread to every part of her body and threatened to consume her.
“Sunny, Sunny.” Groaning, he buried his face in her neck. “It’s time, isn’t it?”
Her body slumped against his in surrender. When he set her away from him, propping her against the countertop, her eyes could barely focus on the face that had disturbed her dreams and been at the root of shameless, countless fantasies in the last few days.
“We’d better be going then,” he said. “If we don’t leave now, we won’t get a good spot at the drive-in.”
Six
The Gator Drive-In was packed to capacity even though it was a weeknight. Ty was heartily greeted when he stopped at the admission gate. Apparently he came to the drive-in often, and Sunny couldn’t help but wonder with whom. Raising his hips, he angled his body straight beneath the steering wheel in order to fish several bills from the pocket of his tight jeans.
Since leaving his house, Sunny had maintained a stony silence. Her pouting was childish, but she was so furious she knew her voice would crack if she tried to speak.
How many times was she going to fall for his sexual sabotage? Every time he took her in his arms, she behaved out of character. Her mind became as traitorous as her body. All he had to do was touch her and her brain shut down operations. Common sense deserted her. She became as obedient as a puppet, responding only to its master’s hand.
Was she getting soft? Losing sight of the grim facts of life? Men had no consciences. Hadn’t she found that out the hard way? They weren’t to be trusted. So why was she so compliant to the sheriff when his foreplay led to nothing but frustration?
Everyone else in town seemed to like and respect him, however. As he drove up and down the curved aisles of the outdoor theater, Ty Beaumont was honked at and waved to. He called back hellos, addressing people by name.
“There aren’t any spaces left this close to the screen,” Sunny commented cantankerously. He’d driven down the same rows several times.
“I know. I’m just letting all the rowdy boys know I’m here. They’ll behave better.”
Darkness had fallen and the credits were already rolling on the first movie of the double feature before he finally pulled the Datsun into a vacant space in the back row. He adjusted the speaker in the window. “Can you hear all right?” he asked.
“Fine.”
“Good. I’ll be right back. Stay here.”
He squeezed her knee before he opened his door and slid out. The affectionate gesture startled her so much that she had a delayed reaction to his desertion.
“Wait,” she cried out to his retreating back, “where are you going?”
“I’ll be back.”