yesterday, you recall. The big city. I bought it there. The best champagne, of course. Or at least, it cost the most.”
“Well … well, thank you. It’s very nice.” Feeling awkward and pleased, she set the possum down on her carpet and took Rucker’s jacket. “I’ll go put it in the refrigerator.”
“The champagne, not my jacket,” he requested coyly.
“Right,” she mumbled.
“You’re forgetting something, Miss Dinah.”
She took a step backwards, clutching the grocery bag in front of her. “No, I didn’t,” she said lightly.
His eyes were too serious, his mouth too enticing. “Yes, you did.” He cupped her face in both hands and watched her lips part in expectation as he stepped closer. “That’s the kind of reaction I like to see,” he whispered, and kissed her. “Hello.” He kissed her again, his tongue sweeping inside her mouth. “You look fantastic.” Another kiss. “I missed you.” A final kiss, damp and intimate, and by now she was leaning forward, her breath ragged and her eyes closed tightly. He nibbled the corner of her mouth. “I didn’t know you could play the piano, Madam Mayor. Takes sensitive fingers to do that. Wish I were a piano.”
He nuzzled her neck from shoulder to ear, tickled her earlobe with his mustache, then ran his fingers over her cheek bones and down to her lips. He caressed their sensitive surface with his fingertips while she let her eyes open languidly. His voice was throaty, and his chest moved in a quick rhythm that matched her own. “Will you tickle my ivories after dinner, Deedee?”
Blinking groggily, Dinah stepped back. “Deedee?” she rasped. “Deedee?”
“Yeah. It’s a good nickname. How do you like it?”
She stood silent for a moment, catching her breath, trying to think straight. Finally she managed to say, “I have not, nor shall I ever be, a ‘Deedee.’ That name conjures up images of a tiny person in ruffles and heavy mascara.”
“Well, I can dream, can’t I?” he joked.
Dinah put a hand to her forehead to test for cracks. No, she only
felt
as if she were falling apart and enjoying every second of it. “You, sir, may call me ‘Dee,’ if you insist.”
“Okay. I can compromise.”
“What may I call you, Rucker?”
“How about honey bunny, or handsome, or sweetcakes? ‘Your Majesty’ will do. That’s what my secretary uses.”
“She’s obviously unqualified to find a job elsewhere, poor desperate woman.”
She turned and hurried toward the kitchen, her knees still shaky from the effect of his kisses. Laughing, Rucker followed her. “Actually, she gives me no respect at all. She’s studying for a degree in psychology at night school. She’s a little bitty blond who served three years in the Navy. I used to protect her from the he-wolves at the paper, until I found out she has a black belt in karate and a wit like sharp steak knives.”
“Is this the fabled Miss Hunstomper?”
“Yeah.”
“Buon giorno!”
Nureyev called from the kitchen.
“Nein! Sprechen sie Englisch, amigo?”
“This is my pet crow,” Dinah explained as she stepped across the threshold. “His name is Nureyev.” She paused for smug effect. “After the ballet star. You’ll have to pardon him. He gets his foreign languages confused.”
Rucker paused, staring in amazement at the large black bird sitting on a perch stand by the room’s bay window. “I have the same problem,” he commented vaguely. He tracked Dinah’s graceful movements around the airy, windowed kitchen, watching her put the champagne in the refrigerator and then go into the dining room beyond. She came back with a crystal snifter half full of dark liquid.
“How about some brandy and soda?” she asked.
He took it wordlessly, and the gleaming amusement in her blue eyes alerted him that she was enjoying his intrigue over the crow. “It came from Arnold Westerby,” she finally explained. “He’s a ranger down at the county forestry station. He found it as
“Well … well, thank you. It’s very nice.” Feeling awkward and pleased, she set the possum down on her carpet and took Rucker’s jacket. “I’ll go put it in the refrigerator.”
“The champagne, not my jacket,” he requested coyly.
“Right,” she mumbled.
“You’re forgetting something, Miss Dinah.”
She took a step backwards, clutching the grocery bag in front of her. “No, I didn’t,” she said lightly.
His eyes were too serious, his mouth too enticing. “Yes, you did.” He cupped her face in both hands and watched her lips part in expectation as he stepped closer. “That’s the kind of reaction I like to see,” he whispered, and kissed her. “Hello.” He kissed her again, his tongue sweeping inside her mouth. “You look fantastic.” Another kiss. “I missed you.” A final kiss, damp and intimate, and by now she was leaning forward, her breath ragged and her eyes closed tightly. He nibbled the corner of her mouth. “I didn’t know you could play the piano, Madam Mayor. Takes sensitive fingers to do that. Wish I were a piano.”
He nuzzled her neck from shoulder to ear, tickled her earlobe with his mustache, then ran his fingers over her cheek bones and down to her lips. He caressed their sensitive surface with his fingertips while she let her eyes open languidly. His voice was throaty, and his chest moved in a quick rhythm that matched her own. “Will you tickle my ivories after dinner, Deedee?”
Blinking groggily, Dinah stepped back. “Deedee?” she rasped. “Deedee?”
“Yeah. It’s a good nickname. How do you like it?”
She stood silent for a moment, catching her breath, trying to think straight. Finally she managed to say, “I have not, nor shall I ever be, a ‘Deedee.’ That name conjures up images of a tiny person in ruffles and heavy mascara.”
“Well, I can dream, can’t I?” he joked.
Dinah put a hand to her forehead to test for cracks. No, she only
felt
as if she were falling apart and enjoying every second of it. “You, sir, may call me ‘Dee,’ if you insist.”
“Okay. I can compromise.”
“What may I call you, Rucker?”
“How about honey bunny, or handsome, or sweetcakes? ‘Your Majesty’ will do. That’s what my secretary uses.”
“She’s obviously unqualified to find a job elsewhere, poor desperate woman.”
She turned and hurried toward the kitchen, her knees still shaky from the effect of his kisses. Laughing, Rucker followed her. “Actually, she gives me no respect at all. She’s studying for a degree in psychology at night school. She’s a little bitty blond who served three years in the Navy. I used to protect her from the he-wolves at the paper, until I found out she has a black belt in karate and a wit like sharp steak knives.”
“Is this the fabled Miss Hunstomper?”
“Yeah.”
“Buon giorno!”
Nureyev called from the kitchen.
“Nein! Sprechen sie Englisch, amigo?”
“This is my pet crow,” Dinah explained as she stepped across the threshold. “His name is Nureyev.” She paused for smug effect. “After the ballet star. You’ll have to pardon him. He gets his foreign languages confused.”
Rucker paused, staring in amazement at the large black bird sitting on a perch stand by the room’s bay window. “I have the same problem,” he commented vaguely. He tracked Dinah’s graceful movements around the airy, windowed kitchen, watching her put the champagne in the refrigerator and then go into the dining room beyond. She came back with a crystal snifter half full of dark liquid.
“How about some brandy and soda?” she asked.
He took it wordlessly, and the gleaming amusement in her blue eyes alerted him that she was enjoying his intrigue over the crow. “It came from Arnold Westerby,” she finally explained. “He’s a ranger down at the county forestry station. He found it as
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