Lori Wilde - A Thrill To Remember

The costume theme was “notorious characters from history,” and guests wore a wide variety of attire, from Attila the Hun to Bonnie and Clyde.

Animated conversations buzzed around her. A cavalcade of delicious scents wafted from the buffet—onions, garlic, rosemary, freshly baked bread, a banquet for the senses. Liam Kilstrom, the disc jockey from KCRK—the local radio station her parents owned—spun a kicky, raucous song by Pink that had everyone on their feet. But Meggie couldn’t seem to focus on anything except the perplexing pull of the exotic masked stranger and his unwavering stare.

She wished he would cut it out.

Now she could say she knew exactly how a goldfish felt.

Exposed.

He leaned over, picked up her orphaned shoe and indicated her bare foot with a nod. “May I?”

Numbly, Meggie plunked back down in the chair and extended her leg.

Don Juan sank to one knee, cupped her heel in his palm and, like Prince Charming with Cinderella, gently slipped the scarlet shoe onto her foot.

The warmth from his hand was too much. She felt as if she’d slipped into a vat of melted chocolate.

He stood. Unbidden, her gaze tracked a path down the length of him. His body was hard and lean and muscular. A honed body that spoke of time spent outdoors, not lingering behind some desk.

Impressive.

He was a provocative specimen, from his thick unruly black hair, which contrasted starkly with the pristine white of his collar, to his broad-shouldered torso that tapered down to the narrow waistband of those exquisite leather pants.

This was way too much excitement for one night. This evening was supposed to be her coming-out party. The first time she had attended a public function since her divorce six months earlier. The first time she’d done anything remotely social since taking a leave of absence from her job as a pediatric nurse in Seattle.

She’d returned to Bear Creek under the auspices of helping her mother while she recovered from ankle surgery. But in truth, Meggie had come back to the safety of her hometown in order to regroup and lick her wounds.

She refused to get trapped in a rebound situation. She wasn’t about to repeat her past mistakes by falling headlong for some totally inappropriate guy.

You could just have a wild affair.

Impossible.

She felt her face heat at the very suggestion. Meggie Scofield was not a wild affair kinda gal. She was too sensible, too responsible and too darned cautious to leap without looking.

One thing was clear. Because she couldn’t seem to trust her own emotions, she had to get away from this guy. Fast.

Grabbing her clutch purse, which had slipped into the crack behind the chair cushion, she jerked a thumb in the direction of the ladies’ room.

In a tight whisper she stammered, “I’m gonna…I just gotta…go.”

A smile curled his lips, as if her nervousness amused him. He looked as if he might say something else, but Meggie didn’t wait to hear it. She darted from the chair and made a beeline for the bathroom, her heart pounding as it never had before.

SEVERAL MINUTES LATER her three best friends found her hiding out in the ladies’ lounge, head tucked between her knees as she tried not to hyperventilate.

“Meggie! Are you okay?” Kay Freemont Scofield, Meggie’s new sister-in-law, settled herself on the sofa next to her and draped an arm around her shoulder.

Woefully, Meggie raised her head. “Fine if you consider a five-alarm hot flash fine.”

“Does it have anything to do with that hottie in the Don Juan costume we saw you talking to?” Classy, native New Yorker Kay looked stunning in her Mata Hari costume. Then again Kay, a Charlize Theron look-alike, would be stunning in a tow sack.

“Certainly not. I just got overheated in that crowded room.”

“Don Juan looks like he could definitely steam up the sheets. Need an ice pack?” Sassy Sadie Stanhope, dressed as Marie Antoinette, wriggled her eyebrows and parked her fanny in front of the vanity mirror to freshen up her makeup.

“No,” Meggie declared, reluctant to admit her helpless attraction. But then she ruined her nonchalant pose by asking, “Do you know who he is?”

“Nope.” Kay shook her head. “But he is adorable.”

Adorable? That wasn’t a label Meggie would have chosen for that studly slab of manhood. Her heel still burned from his touch.

Reaching over, Cammie Jo Lockhart rubbed Don Juan’s silk cloak between her fingers. “Cool cape. Did you two play superhero and damsel in distress?”

“Don’t be silly, I did not play anything with that man. I was cold. He lent me his cape. End of story.”

“Wait a minute. I thought you said you were overheated.”

“That was before.”

“Before what?” Cammie Jo grinned.

“Before Mr. Hot-Bod draped his cape over her shoulders.” Sadie measured off an inch with her thumb and forefinger. “Come on, Megs, are you sure you’re not just the teeniest bit interested in him?”

Meggie shook her head. “Okay. So the man is sexy. Big deal. I’ll tell you what the real problem is—this costume. I told you guys it was a big mistake. I look like some third-rate hooker. He probably thought I was a hooker.”

She got up to lean over Sadie’s head and peer at her reflection in the vanity mirror. Kay had helped her get ready for the party, and she’d spread enough makeup on Meggie’s face to frost a cake.

But at the same time she was protesting, a quiet thrill of pleasure rippled through Meggie. She had managed to attract the attention of a very handsome man. Still, in this racy disguise she felt like an inexperienced driver behind the wheel of a souped-up muscle car.

So much flash. So much power.

So darned much potential for disaster, whispered her voice of reason.

The same confounded voice that had kept her tied to outmoded values for far too many years. The same stick-in-the-mud voice she had desperately tried to quell when she had allowed her friends to talk her into this outrageous costume.

“Don’t be silly,” Kay said matter-of-factly.

“Klondike Kate is the perfect alter ego, and you look fabulous in that bustier.”

Meggie twirled, the cape whirling about her waist as she peeked over her shoulder at the mirror. She sighed. “It makes my butt look big.”

“Stop cutting yourself down,” Kay said. “You’ve got a great figure.”

“Not according to Jesse,” she muttered blackly, narrowing her eyes at the reflection of her well-rounded bottom.

“Oh, screw Jesse.”

“Not anymore, thank you very much. I’ll leave that to the eighteen-year-old groupies,” Meggie said in a tart tone that caused Sadie and Cammie Jo to lapse into gales of laughter.

“As well you should.” Kay nodded.

Jesse’s leaving hadn’t hurt nearly as much as his cruel parting shot. He had told her point-blank she was a lousy lay and that’s why he had been forced to stray from their marriage bed.

“Face it, Meggie. You’re a dud in the sack,” he had said, lashing out at her. “Sock puppets are more fun than you.”

Meggie winced at the memory. His words hurt because they were true. She wasn’t very adventuresome when it came to sex, and she’d always preferred snuggling to the actual act. Not that her ex had been much of a cuddler.

Kay, Sadie and Cammie Jo had rallied around, just as they were now, helping her through the rough spots with too much chocolate and lots of laughter. Most surprisingly, and most comforting of all, however, was the support she’d gotten from Jesse’s stepbrother, Caleb.

Caleb was such a sweet guy, concerned that she might be humiliated or worried that the rest of the family thought ill of her. He had come to see her at her parents’ house right after he’d found out about the divorce, just to assure her that everyone understood and sympathized with her.