Her father partnered her, twirling her around, until dizziness made her stumble. She laughed into her dad’s concerned face, then hugged him fiercely.
Then Springsteen’s “I’m on Fire” captured the beat of the night. The celebration rocked.
Law had never seen a happier family.
The Mays loved, laughed, and whooped in the twilight. The song soon ended, and Cat’s mom cut in to dance with her husband. “Hungry Heart” played next. The younger kids danced apart while the married couples pressed close, choosing to slow dance.
Law caught Cat’s smile as she stepped back onto the lawn. She shoved her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. She watched from beneath the lamppost. The light made her look ethereal. She could’ve been an angel.
“Dance, sweet baby?”
Catherine jumped. She hadn’t seen James Lawless coming. He’d been on her mind, and the sight of him stepping out of the darkness seemed downright spooky. His gaze was hot and fixed on her T-shirt. His grin was a total turn-on.
Law didn’t wait for her to reply. He settled her against him. Their bodies meshed, rubbed, pulsed.
The night was warm, but Law was warmer. His athletic body moved nicely. She matched his slow steps. They danced in the freshly cut grass. Gardenias scented the air.
She clutched his shoulders.
And he wrapped her in sexual awareness.
She’d worn red-heeled Wonder Woman boots the last time they’d danced. The red costume had a push-up bra that had pressed her breasts practically to her chin. The blue satin bottom covered in white stars had cut higher than any of her panties. She’d gotten a bikini wax to wear it.
This time, she swayed against Law, shoeless and fully clothed. Somehow, they still fit.
He was warm, muscled, and teased his knee between her thighs. Khaki rubbed denim, and his heat spread her legs a little wider. Had they been horizontal, he’d have penetrated her by now.
His familiarity put the fear of God in her.
“Miss me?” His breath teased against her ear.
“You’ve been gone?” She kept her voice even.
She felt him chuckle; knew his whole body smiled.
“Time flies.” Her mouth was even with the wide aqua stripe on his dark brown pullover. “Congratulations on taking both series.”
He ran his hands along her spine. “You caught the games?”
Every single second. She’d joined Zen in the conference room at the onset of play. She’d brought the hot dogs, popcorn, and sodas; and he, his expertise. Zen Driscoll had taught her baseball. She still couldn’t tell a curveball from a changeup, but she now grasped the basic rules.
“I watched an inning or two,” she responded.
“Did you catch Risk’s home run in Atlanta?”
She nodded.
“Psycho’s triple in Miami?”
“He barely made it to third.”
“Brody getting bounced from the game?”
“He had his share of errors.”
“How about when Kason slammed into the left-field fence—”
“He never hit—”
“No, he didn’t.” Law grinned. “You watched all seven games, didn’t you?”
She damn sure had. “Start to finish.” She’d even enjoyed the players’ interviews and final media wrap-up.
“I like that you watched me play.”
“Not just you; the entire team.”
“I stood out, though, didn’t I?”
“You made a nice catch the bottom of the ninth against the Braves.”
“Nice?” He looked pained. “That play was heroic.”
“You’re a real Superman.”
“Speaking of the Man of Steel—” Excitement tinged his voice. “The auction closed on the original comic. Walter had my proxy. He brought Superman home. Captain America and Superman will be framed and hung this next week.”
He exhaled slowly, a plan forming. “I might move some frames around to find a place of honor for Clone Man, too.”
His words surprised her, in a very good way. Law was working through his past.
She hugged him even more tightly.
Law responded with a boner.
Easing back, he looked down on her. “Did you get my gift?”
“The box of Godiva chocolates?”
“Not from me.”
“The flowers? Lovely pink carnations.”
He studied her. “You’re not a carnation kind of woman. You’re more hothouse rose.”
Roses worked for her. She tilted her head back, playing him a bit longer. “The new iPod?”
He bent forward, and his dark hair fell across the sharp cut of his cheekbones. Smugness curved his mouth, and his lips nearly touched hers. “My gift takes you to bed.”
“Ah, the nightgown.”
“In a way, you’re already sleeping with me, sweetheart.”
The thought aroused her.
She stroked his overly long hair, touched his shoulders, then ran her hands down the sculpted muscles of his upper arms. He was hard strength, a contrast to her slighter, softer curves.
Law glanced to the street where her family danced with abandon. Even the youngest of the Mays bounced in place. “Born to Run” was in their blood tonight.
“Privacy,” Cat heard him mutter. He took her hand and tugged her across the lawn. They rounded the corner of the nearest house—her home, but he didn’t know that yet. The pitch of the roof blocked the streetlights. They were lost to prying eyes.
He danced her back against the brick wall. They were soon as close as any two people could get and still have their clothes on.
Anticipation tingled and her knees trembled.
Desire crept up her inner thighs.
Passion brought out his warrior’s kiss. A man ready to claim his woman.
Catherine May unraveled.
The strong beat of his heart collided with her own.
The hard ridges of his abdomen flexed against her belly as he breathed in and out. More rapidly now.
His hands slid around to cup her ass, bringing her against his sex, settling his erection into the V of her thighs.
She arched her back, raised her hips, deepened the contact.
The eroticism, the intensity, the raw craving took her back to their night at Haunt. Amid the darkness of the club, anonymity had stolen her judgment.
There was something about James Lawless that had her casting caution to the wind. He’d dominated her when she’d been Wonder Woman, and he was doing so again. Before they could move forward, she had to clear their past.