Where There's Smoke

“This town. The other side of the world could blow up, stars could collide and cause another Big Bang, and folks here would still be scurrying around to find out who was screwing who.”

“Who are you screwing?”

“That’s my business.”

“Bastard.”

She glared at him with such ferocity that he laughed again. “You sure are dressed up for a Tuesday night, Darcy,” he observed, taking in her conservative dress and plain high-heeled pumps. Of course nothing looked conservative or plain on Darcy. The dress was made of flaming pink silk, which she wore well despite her red hair. Her chest filled out the bodice and then some. She’d left the top three buttons undone to provide an enticing peek at cleavage. The high heels added length and shape to her already long and shapely legs. She looked hot—there was no doubt about that.

“I was on my way home from the Library Society meeting,” she told him.

“Eden Pass has a Library Society? I didn’t even know we had a library.”

“Of course we do. And the society has forty-two members.”

“No shit? How many of them can read?”

“Very funny.” She finished her drink and slammed the glass onto the bar. “Thanks for the drink. Call me if you ever get your sense of humor back. You’re a real drag these days.”

“What’d you say to piss her off?” Hap asked after she had stalked out. He reached for her glass and dunked it in a basin of soapy water.

“Does it matter?” Key asked testily.

It was still raining, but Key didn’t even duck his head as he walked to his car. His mind was on so many other things, the inclement weather was inconsequential.

He got into the Lincoln on the driver’s side and had inserted the key into the ignition before he noticed her. She slid across the yellow leather seat and placed her hand high on the inside of his thigh.

“I know what’s wrong with you.”

“You don’t have the foggiest notion, Darcy.”

“I’m an expert at these things, you know. I was born with a sixth sense. I can tell what a man wants and needs just by looking at him.”

“ ’S a fact?”

“That’s a fact. When a man wants it, he gives off an odor just like a woman does.”

“If that’s true, there ought to be a pack of dogs after you.”

Taking that as a compliment, she moved her hand to his crotch. “You want me, Key. I know you do. You’re just too stubborn to take back the ugly things you said that night at the town meeting.” She stroked him, and he had to admit that her technique was excellent.

“This is silly. Neither of us wants to make the first move to reconcile. There’s no point in both of us being miserable over a little pride, is there?”

She began unbuttoning his jeans. Key, assuming the role of an impartial observer, let her. He was curious to gauge his response. She lifted him out of his jeans and massaged him between her hands. His cock began to grow hard.

“Oh, baby,” she said with a sigh. “I knew that all you needed was Darcy’s magic touch.”

She smiled at him seductively, then lowered her head to his lap. Her tongue was alternately quick and light, then languorous and lazy. She licked him delicately and sucked him hard. Her teeth threatened pain before her lips kissed soothingly. She knew what she was doing.

Key rested his head against the seat and squeezed his eyes closed. He didn’t desire Darcy and was therefore amazed that his body was functioning as it should. On the other hand, why should that surprise him? he wondered. He’d bedded women without ever learning their names. He’d forgotten more women than he remembered. They’d only done for him something he could have done just as well for himself. His body could do it without involving his mind.

He was glad that Darcy hadn’t kissed him. That would have made it personal. He would have had to share a part of himself with a woman who meant nothing to him. He didn’t even like her.

If Darcy had kissed him, her avaricious tongue might have swept away the taste of another kiss, which he wasn’t ready to forget. He kept the memory of it under lock and key like an old man hoarding victory ribbons. On occasion, Key let himself think about that kiss, recall its sweet sexiness, just as that old man would take out his ribbons and finger them sadly while remembering past glories. Then, annoyed with himself and feeling like a fool, Key would shut out the memory, as the old man, ashamed of his sentimentality, would slam the drawer in which he kept his treasured ribbons.

It was pathetic, Key thought, the way individuals longed for something that could never be.

Now he let his mind go blank, disassociating himself from the act but granting his body permission to respond. He didn’t touch Darcy, not even when he came. Instead, he clenched his hands around the steering wheel until his fingers turned white. As soon as it was over he calmly rebuttoned his jeans.