are soon filled with children going from classroom to classroom to try their hand at ring toss and balloon popping. After an hour, an announcement comes over the intercom that official trick-or-treating begins in fifteen minutes.
The children swarm back to the gym, clutching plastic whistles and toy prizes. Dean and I find each other in the crowd and take Nicholas and Bella downtown where all the shops and restaurants are open for trick-or-treaters.
We traipse up and down the street for a couple of hours, then I leave the kids with Dean and promise to meet them at the bonfire. The high school is deserted when I return, but I need to break down the game booths and close up before returning the keys to the building supervisor.
I put the balloon-popping board outside the history classroom and close the door. As I’m locking it, two hands slide around my waist and pull me backward, right up against a very solid, male body.
“Give me a kiss, beauty.” Dean’s deep voice washes over my skin.
I shiver in response and turn in his arms—because that command is one I never can or want to resist.
I lean forward to press my lips against his, the gentle contact making me all soft and fuzzy inside. I twine my hands around the back of Dean’s neck and thread my fingers through his hair.
“It’s later,” he remarks, pressing his lips across my cheek to my ear. “Archer and Kelsey are taking the kids to the bonfire. I told them we’d meet them when we’re done here, though this might take quite a while.”
“Really?” I breathe. “You think it could take a while?”
“A very.” He kisses my ear. “Long.” He kisses my collarbone. “While.” He slides the strap of my gown aside and kisses my shoulder. “It’s just you and me now, baby.”
A flutter of excitement starts low in my belly. I turn my head to brush my mouth across his cheek, the sandpaper grain of his stubble delicious against my lips.
“I have to finish breaking down the game booths,” I say.
“Mmm, love that dirty talk.”
“Want to help me? You know how much I love watching your muscles flex and strain when you’re doing heavy lifting and…other things.”
I slide my palm down his chest, looking up at him suggestively from beneath my eyelashes. Heat brews in his dark eyes.
“What do I get if I help you?” he asks.
“My everlasting gratitude.” I pat his cheek and pull away from him. “And maybe something else later.”
“I thought this was later,” he grumbles as he follows me.
“Later later.” I open the door and usher him inside. “Tomorrow we’ll move the equipment to the storage garage.”
He grumbles a little more, but dismantles the plastic horseshoes game and piles the parts in the corridor. After locking the door, we move on to the chemistry lab where the beanbag toss is set up along the central aisle.
“Did you know I once won a beanbag toss at the Santa Clara County Fair?” Dean asks, warming up to pitch one of the bags.
“I didn’t know that. What did you win?”
“A stuffed Winnie-the-Pooh. I wasn’t happy. Especially when Archer started calling me Roo.” He pitches the bag, which hits the board with a thud.
“Looks like your skills are rusty,” I remark, loading the plastic prizes into a storage bin.
He frowns and picks up another beanbag. He tosses it through the ten-point hole.
“Okay, Mrs. West.” He steps aside. “Show me what you can do.”
“Yes, sir.”
He glances sideways at me, a spark of intrigue lighting in his eyes. The “sir” thing gets us both interested pretty quickly, though I question the wisdom of going there in the middle of a high-school chemistry lab.
I bend over to pick up a beanbag, feeling Dean’s gaze sweep over me. I straighten and pitch the bag. It goes neatly through the fifty-point bull’s-eye in the center.
“Hah!” I raise my fists in victory. “Olivia West, bean-bag champion of the world. Where’s my prize?”
“Right here.” Dean moves closer and strokes his hand over my ass.
“Really?” I ask dryly, turning toward him. “Isn’t that more like your prize?”
“Oh, you’re definitely my prize.” He slips his hand beneath my chin and tilts my face up to his.
Our lips meet in a warm, lovely kiss that tastes like spiced apples. And even though we’re in a classroom on Halloween night, I feel myself tipping easily into that intimate space where the rest of the world fades into black and white, and where colors bloom like flowers around us.
I curl