“Other kids got Goodnight Moon. I got this.”
The idea of it delighted her. “Please tell me you had one of those Fisher Price record players in your room.”
“For a little while, but it didn’t survive my cousins very long. No, I had this little tape deck thing. Mom filled up both sides of a tape with the song, and every night she’d put me to bed and press play. I’d fall asleep serenaded by Sinatra.”
“That sounds lovely.” Smiling, she tipped her head back to look at the sky again. “This is lovely.”
“So are you.”
Her eyes had adjusted enough to see his face in the faint cast of light from the house, and what she saw there made her pulse leap. Foolish, she thought. Theirs was a temporary intimacy, a product of shared secrets and darkness. But for all that it was fleeting, it was so incredibly temping to give into the desire to touch and be touched. To feel, for a little while, as if she wasn’t alone.
One corner of Cam’s mouth lifted, drawing her gaze. God, he had beautiful lips. As the instrumental solo began, he slid one hand around her back, shifting from a dance to an embrace. Her hand flexed on his shoulder, with nerves or to get a better grip on him, she didn’t know. But he didn’t kiss her, instead nudging her head to his shoulder and resting a cheek on her hair. After a brief flare of disappointment, she relaxed against him and lost herself to the music and the solid, steady feel of him against her. By the time the song ended, Norah found herself soothed, as much by the man as the dance.
Reluctant to step away, she lifted her head. “I feel better. Thanks for listening. And for the dance.”
“Anytime.” Cam brushed the hair back from her face with another of those feather-soft touches.
Inside, somebody shouted. The music cut off and the countdown began.
Cam didn’t drop his hand. With each second that ticked by, Norah’s heart kicked harder.
“…six…five…”
He stroked his thumb along the curve of her cheek, and she couldn’t stop herself from leaning into the touch.
“…three…two…one!”
“Happy New Year,” she whispered.
He bent his head so she felt the warmth of his breath. “Happy New Year.”
They held, trembling, at that delicious edge of temptation as noisemakers and whoops sounded from inside. She didn’t know who moved first, only that his hand tangled in her hair and the mouth pressed to hers was no gossamer brush of lips. Heat sparked between them, rushing along her skin, heady and welcome.
God, yes.
She rose up, twining her arms around his neck to draw him closer and held on for the ride. He changed the angle, drew them both deeper into the kiss. The taste of him punched into her and lit up nerve endings she hadn’t known existed. It was so wholly unexpected and glorious to be lost in a tangle of sensations and needs.
“Hush! Get out of my flower bed!”
Norah broke off, reflexively turning her head toward Miranda’s shout. Cam made a growl of protest.
“Um…” It was all she could manage with her brain cells obliterated. She was deliciously dizzy, still gripping his shoulders for balance.
He pressed his brow to hers, his breath gratifyingly unsteady. “How long are you staying?”
“Longer now, I think.”
“Good.” Reluctance in every gesture, he eased back and released her. “I’ve gotta go rescue my dog.”
Still swaying, Norah watched him walk back around the side of the house to accept Miranda’s wrath. She lifted a hand to her still tingling lips and let out a trembling exhale.
Oh boy.
Chapter 5
“You’re wool gathering.”
Norah looked up at the accusation, noting the mix of amusement and concern in her companion’s eyes. He flashed an easy smile in response to her sheepish expression, and it was a lovely smile. But it wasn’t the one she wanted to see.