Walking After Midnight (25 page)

„Steve…“ Summer whispered, lifting herself a few inches off the ground to press her bare breasts suggestively against his chest. The contact between her throbbing nipples and his hard, hair-roughened muscles felt so good that for a few seconds she almost forgot he wasn’t paying attention.

„She’s clapping,“ he said suddenly.

„What?“ Entwining her arms around his neck, flattening her breasts against his chest, Summer kissed the side of his neck.

„Jesus H. Christ, I’ve got to get out of here.“ Pulling her arms from around his neck, Steve leaped to his feet and zipped up his shorts.

„What?“ Summer fell back to earth and stared up at him, bewildered.

„Come on, we’ve got to go.“

„What are you talking about?“ she wailed. He snatched his muscle shirt from the ground and pulled it over his head.

„Put that on,“ he said, throwing the hooded sweatshirt at her.

„What is
wrong
with you?“ Sitting up, Summer regarded him with disbelief. He was bundling up the quilt and stuffing it inside the gym bag.

„Damn it, will you get dressed?“ His glanced raked over her. Summer was very conscious suddenly of how she must look, black-polyester-clad bottom planted in the dirt, her blouse hanging open so that her ripe, rose-crested breasts were bare to his eyes, knees bent, hair tousled around her face, eyes no doubt bright with passion.

Slutty. That was the word she was hunting for.

Embarrassed suddenly, she drew the edges of her blouse together, fastened the few remaining buttons, then reached for the sweatshirt and zipped herself into that for good measure.

„Here. Hurry up.“ While she was thus occupied, he had retrieved her damp clothes from the branches where they’d been hung to dry. The
here
was uttered as he dropped her shoes and socks beside her. Summer blinked at them with disbelief as he bundled her bra and panties inside her shorts and shirt, and stuffed them into the bag.

„You’ve got to be kidding. We’re really going?“

„Get your shoes on!“ It was a muted roar. Hostility radiated from him like rays from the sun.

„Well, screw you, Frankenstein!“ Outraged, Summer snatched up the still-damp socks and yanked them over her feet. He was pulling on his own sneakers as she laced herself into the squishy, too big basketball shoes.

Even her outrage didn’t seem to touch him. It was if he had switched off – no, forgotten, really – the passion that still pulsed through her veins with a life of its own.

„I’ll carry the dog. Let’s go.“ On his feet now, Bulls cap firmly on his head, Frankenstein kicked dirt over the fire. Then, to Summer’s burgeoning fury, he headed off into the dark without another word to her, or even so much as a glance over his shoulder to make sure she was following.

How dare he treat her so badly? Summer fumed as she stomped after him. Not quite having the nerve to teach him a lesson by stomping in the opposite direction doubled her anger. To jump up in the middle of the most explosive lovemaking session she had ever experienced and run off into the night for no good reason that she could discover was about the most infuriating behavior she had ever encountered.

She would be damned if she spoke to him ever again.

With Frankenstein in the lead and setting a killing pace, they plunged down gulleys and up hillsides, skirted piles of fallen rock and one very pungent cloud of
eau de skunk,
all in the pitch-dark. The ground grew squishy beneath the fallen leaves as they passed an underground spring, and patches of mud sucked at Summer’s shoes. Branches creaked eerily with every passing breeze. The sharp smell of pine needles and the more muted scents of earth, leaves, and mold replaced the smell of skunk.

Finally the sun rose, and misty wisps of vapor floated up lazily to greet it. Fingers of fog crept through the woods and kept going. Birds trilled. The cicadas sang.

Dawn gave way to full morning, and gradually the air warmed. The droplets of moisture that had sparkled in the sunlight like jewels beneath the trees dried up. Squirrels came out to breakfast.

Summer wanted breakfast.

Ahead of her, Muffy tucked under his arm like a football, Frankenstein just kept on going and going and going like a human version of the blasted Energizer Bunny.

She knew what ailed him, now that she had had time to think the whole fiasco through. Right in the middle of making love to her, he had imagined that he saw Deedee again.

Which didn’t sit in her craw very well at all, any way she looked at it.

Eyeing his broad back evilly, Summer began to hum.

If
there’s something strange…

Since she had met him, that idiotic tune had practically become her theme song.

As she followed him, she hummed. He walked. She hummed a little louder. Still he walked. She hummed very loudly indeed.

Back stiffening, he started to slow down.

„…
in your neighborhood / Who ya gonna call?“

She was singing now, softly. But the words were unmistakable.

Frankenstein stopped walking and pivoted to glare at her.

Summer stopped too, cocked her head to one side, grinned, and continued:

„Ghostbusters! Na na na na na na na! Na na na na na na na!“

„Are you making fun of me?“ He sounded as if he couldn’t believe she would dare.

„Me?“ Summer stopped singing and shook her head, trying to look innocent. He stared at her hard for a moment, then swung around and started off again.

Summer started after him.
„If there’s something strange…“

„Would you please stop singing that damned song?“ Annoyance was plain in the glance he threw over his shoulder at her. He sounded as if he were struggling very hard to hold on to his temper.

„I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it would bother you,“ Summer said, saccharine-sweet. When he was face-forward again, she added wickedly,
„I ain’t afraid of no ghosts!“

„Damn it, Rosencrans! Shut the hell up!“ Having apparently given up on holding on to his temper, he practically vibrated with anger as he wheeled to face her.

Summer snickered. She couldn’t help it.

„You can just quit laughing, too.“

„I’ll laugh anytime I damned well please. And I’ll sing if I want to, too,“ she answered cordially, and took up singing again.

„Would you stop?“ he roared. Muffy started at the sudden explosion of sound, and with an impatient glance he set her on the ground. Summer, from the safety of a good ten feet away, kept singing.

„Na na na na na na na!“

„Damn it, Rosencrans, I’m warning you!“ His fists were balled on his hips and his eyes shot warning sparks at her.

„Why does that song bother you?“ she asked, grinning. „Just because you think you’re being haunted by your own private ghost is no reason to take it personally.“

„Why, you – “ He bit off a word that Summer was certain was most uncomplimentary, but his eyes said it for him. His fists were no longer balled on his hips. His hands hung loosely down at his sides, his fingers flexing and unflexing as if he ached to wrap them around her neck. Bared by the sleeveless shirt, the muscles of his bare arms tensed until they bulged like the rolling hillsides they had just traversed. The brim of his Bulls cap shaded his eyes.

Summer knew that by referring to his obsession with Deedee, she could be accused of hitting below the belt, but she didn’t care. It was time that Mr. Macho Man realized how ridiculous the whole ghost bit was.

„I ain’t afraid of no ghosts,“
she sang tauntingly.

Steam practically came out of his ears. His whole body tensed.

„That’s enough, Rosencrans,“ he said through his teeth.

Summer grinned at him.
„If there’s something strange / In your neighborhood / Who ya gonna call? Ghosthusters! Na na na
– “

She never made it through the last few
nas.
With a bellow of rage he divested himself of tire iron and gym bag and dived for her. With a shriek, Summer turned to run. She hadn’t made it two paces before his hand closed around the back of her neck.

„Feeling brave, are you?“ he asked as he whirled her around to face him, his hands on her shoulders. „Go on, sing it again. I dare you.“

Summer looked up into the hard, furious, bruised and battered face. She saw the danger signals in the snapping black eyes and the tight-clenched jaw.

And she lifted her chin and started to sing,
„If there’s something strange…“

His hands tightened on her shoulders threateningly. His black eyes blazed. If ever a man had had murder written all over him, at that moment Frankenstein was that man.

25

Summer
was unimpressed. „What are you going to do, strangle me?“

„By God, I’d like to.“ He sounded like he was on the verge of breathing real fire.

„Intimidation won’t work,“ Summer told him, and twinkled tauntingly up at him. „Unlike you, I’m no scaredy-cat.“

„What?“

„Scaredy-cat,“ she repeated softly, then added,
„I ain’t afraid of no ghosts!“

„Shut the hell up!“

„Na na na na na na na…“

„Arghh!“ It was a growl of pure rage, and for a moment Summer was almost afraid. His hands tightened on her shoulders – and then he jerked her against him, tilted her head back with one hand imbedded in her hair, and brought his mouth crushing down on hers.

It was the first time she had ever been kissed by a man wearing a Bulls cap. There was symbolism in there somewhere, she was sure.

Summer opened her mouth to take a deep, shaken breath, and his tongue invaded the warm, sweet cavity like a conquering army. Her knees quivered at the onslaught. Her head was forced back. Her mouth was being mercilessly, ferociously possessed, and there was not a thing in the world she could do to stop it.

That being so, her arms slid up around his neck.

This was why she had taunted him so mercilessly. This was what she wanted.

„Steve…“ she whispered into his mouth. Then she was kissing him back with a passion hotter than any fire. His arms slid around her back, her shoulders, crushing her to him.

„God, Rosencrans,“ he groaned in answer, and a small laugh shook her as she twisted in his arms to pull her mouth free.

„Summer,“ she told him, her lips just inches from his. „My name is Summer.“

„Summer,“ he murmured obligingly while his eyes blazed down into hers. A faint smile curved his mouth. „Beautiful, sexy Summer.“

Entranced beyond words, Summer lifted one hand from its death grip on his shoulder to lightly stroke the rough hair at the nape of his neck. She tweaked the cap from his head and watched as it dropped to the ground. He didn’t appear to notice. His eyes remained fixed on hers.

„Kiss me, Steve,“ she whispered, her mouth reaching for his again even as she spoke. Plastered against him, she felt him shudder. She heard the sudden, harsh indrawing of his breath as she touched his mouth with hers. Then something happened. He glanced up, growing still, holding himself a little away from her. Summer could feel the sudden resistance in his body.

Deedee. Was he having visions of Deedee?

She meant to wipe Deedee clean out of his head.

„Steve – kiss me. Please.“ Shameless. That’s what she was – shameless. But she wanted him, fiercely, hungrily, more than she had ever wanted anything in her whole life.

And she was willing to fight for what she wanted.

With one hand burrowing through his short crisp hair, she pulled his head down. She brushed her lips against his, softly, tantalizingly, and slid her tongue inside his mouth. She caressed his teeth and the roof of his mouth with her tongue. She touched his tongue with hers, stroked it, tried to coax it to come out to play. She nibbled at his lips.

And still he didn’t respond.

She rubbed her pelvis up and down against the hard bulge in his pants.

He drew in a harsh, shaken breath, and suddenly he was looking at her again. Torment blazed from his eyes.

„Make love to me,“ she whispered. „Pretty please.“

„Oh, God, I want to,“ he groaned, as if the admission condemned him to eternal hellfire. When she lifted her face he took her mouth.

It was a kiss so devouring that Summer closed her eyes and surrendered her soul.

She’d won. She knew it. Top this, girl, she taunted the absent Deedee even as her consciousness reeled under the onslaught of her senses and then stopped being heard from at all.

His hand came up to crush her breast. Summer could feel the heat and strength of it even through the layers of her sweatshirt and blouse. She arched her back, clinging close, trembling all over. He bent her back over his arm, kissing her as if he could never get enough of the taste of her mouth. Shuddering jolts of electricity rocketed through her body as he unzipped the sweatshirt and brushed it aside and then jerked open her blouse. When his hand closed over her bare breast she gasped at the sheer pleasure of it. Her nipple was stiff beneath his cupping palm. He tweaked it lightly between his thumb and forefinger. Summer gasped into his devouring mouth.