Night's Touch(8)

She found it hard to believe he had ever been ill. He looked the picture of health, strong and fit. His T-shirt stretched over a broad chest; his arms were long and well muscled. He reminded her of a bodybuilder except that he wasn’t bulky. He looked solid, though.

He jerked his chin at the dance floor. “Care to take a whirl?”

Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of being in his arms. Nodding, she followed him onto the dance floor, felt her cheeks grow hot as he took her hand in his and slipped his arm around her waist.

Dancing with Vince was far different from dancing with Anton. Vince moved with a kind of fluid grace that made her wonder if he was a professional dancer. Her skin tingled where his hand rested on her waist, her whole body throbbed with an unfamiliar longing when she looked into his eyes. He didn’t hold her too close, didn’t say or do anything the least bit suggestive, and yet she was aware of him with every fiber of her being.

She hated to hear the song end, felt bereft when his hand fell away from her waist. No other man had ever made her feel the way he did. A smile, a touch, and she felt beautiful, desirable. When she looked into his eyes…it was like looking into the far reaches of eternity. For a moment, she forgot where they were, forgot that they weren’t alone.

For a moment, she wished he would kiss her.

A wistful smile curved his lips, as if he knew what she was thinking. When he spoke, she wondered if he was reading her mind.

“I know,” he said quietly. “I feel it, too.”

Taking her hand in his, he led her back to the bar.

A man was sitting on her stool.

“Hi, sweet cakes,” Anton said, smiling. “Sorry I’m late.”

Cara glanced from Anton to Vince and back again. “Hi. I…I didn’t think you were coming.”

“Hey,” Anton said, looking offended, “would I let a pretty girl down?”

Cara had never been in a situation like this before and she didn’t know what to do. She had sort of a date with Anton, but it was Vince she wanted to be with.

Her upbringing made the decision for her. With an apologetic smile, she looked at Vince and said, “Thank you for the dance.”

“Anytime.” Dropping her hand, he picked up his drink and walked away.

“Who was that?” Anton asked.

“I don’t know. Just a guy who asked me to dance.” Cara didn’t like the look in Anton’s eyes as he watched Vince settle into a booth in the far corner of the room.

“How about a late movie?” Anton asked. He checked his watch. “If we leave now, we can just make the ten o’clock show.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“You’re angry because I was late.”

“Oh, no,” she said quickly. Quite the opposite, she thought. If he had been on time, she wouldn’t have met Vince. She wondered if he came here often. Sitting on the stool next to Anton’s, she sipped her drink, wishing she could think of a way to find out if Vince was a frequent patron.

With a sigh, she looked at Anton. “You never told me what you do for a living,” she remarked.

“I’m part owner of a bookstore. That’s why I was late. Something came up and I had to take care of it.”

“A bookstore!” she exclaimed. “Sounds heavenly.”

“I knew we had a lot in common when you told me you were a librarian,” Anton said, grinning. “Who’s your favorite author?”

“Oh, gosh, I have so many, I wouldn’t know where to begin, but Tolkien is right up near the top.”

“Lord of the Rings, eh? Got a thing for wizards and elves, do you?”

“Well, I have a thing for Legolas,” she admitted with a grin. “And Aragorn, of course.”

Anton smiled, wondering what she would think if she knew she was talking to a practicing warlock. His powers had come to him late, but his abilities were growing stronger and more proficient each day. Given time, he knew his magick would be as powerful as his father’s had been, perhaps more so.