Wild Men of Alaska Collection - By Helmer, Tiffinie Page 0,80
the clean aprons Amie had hanging in the kitchen. She rushed back to find the books floating where she’d left them with Lucky presumably still holding them.
“What are you doing with the apron?” There was a distinct frown in his voice.
“I want you to wear it.”
“Not very manly. How about you wear the apron and nothing under it?” Though she couldn’t see his eyebrows waggling, she’d bet good money by his tone they were.
“You’re such a man.”
“Thank you.”
“Now put on the apron.”
“If I have to wear that thing, the least you can do is put it on me yourself.”
The challenge lay between them. A challenge she didn’t have any problem accepting.
“Divide the books in both hands,” she ordered, fascinated as the stack of six books suddenly became a pair of three, each held about four feet apart. She reached up and felt solid shoulders under her hands.
Lucky moaned. “Your hands are so warm.”
“Shh.” If he kept talking like that her willpower would dissolve like sugar in a sea of water. The books moved closer to her as though he intended to hold her. “Nuh-uh. Keep the books in your hands. And no dropping them. Enough merchandise has been bruised tonight already.”
She looped the apron over his head a little astonished when it stayed. Next, she stepped closer and brought the ties around to knot behind his back. If she closed her eyes, it was like wrapping her arms around a flesh and blood man.
He was here. He was real.
Yet, he wasn’t.
Lucky groaned as though in pain. “Do you have any idea how good you smell and how badly I want to hold you?”
“Stop that,” she said, though her voice held no conviction. She swallowed hard and stepped back. In front of her was a floating dark green apron with hovering romance novels on each side. She shook her head. “Stay put. I have another idea.”
She ran to the office, hurrying back with her wool scarf and knit hat.
“Purple really isn’t my color,” Lucky said. “Besides, the scarf will clash with the hunter green of my apron.”
She giggled, surprising herself with how much fun she was having. She reached up and with one hand felt for the top of his head, her fingers diving into thick, soft hair. It was her turn to groan. By her calculations, his hair was just shy of shoulder length, wavy and soft as goose down.
“Gemma.” He moaned her name, the books inching closer to her in her peripheral vision.
She shushed him again. When they’d had these stolen moments before she wasn’t fully awake and always came away wondering how much of what she remembered had really happened and what was just a dream. But she was awake, aware, and more involved than she wanted to admit.
“Close your eyes,” Lucky whispered.
“No.” She gasped. The desire to close her eyes was unbearably hard to refuse. If she did that she’d be lost again. And she badly wanted to give in. So she didn’t. She grabbed the hat and placed it on his head, next she wrapped the scarf around his neck. She stepped back to view her handiwork.
He looked a bit like a scarecrow.
“There is nothing sexy about a scarecrow.”
“I don’t know. The scarecrow was always my favorite character in The Wizard of Oz.”
“Well, I am brainless with desire.” The humor in his voice was back and made her smile. She realized how much she’d laughed tonight. What fun they would’ve had together if he’d lived.
“Aren’t we having fun now? Can you only enjoy things when you’re alive? I’m proof that isn’t true.”
She sobered as the improbability of their situation cleared all the laughter out of her.
Her heart was in danger.
“Gemma—”
“I know.” She shook it off. Tonight. She’d steal tonight for herself. “Do you like to dance?”
“I’m a fan of anything that gets my body flush against yours.”
And just like that her despondence was gone as laughter bubbled to the surface. “Hang tight. I’ll be right back.” Once again she returned to the office, picked out her favorite music to play, and lowered the lights in the store, flipping the switch for the mural on the ceiling. Before her dad had died, he’d installed lights that resembled the constellations. Gemini being the brightest. It had been too long since she’d lit them up.
She walked out of the office into a magical land of light and color. The plate glass windows at the front of the store reflected the greens, reds, and purples of the Northern Lights, while