A Little Night Music Page 3

  Another shiver. A harder one; a longer one.

  He brought their hands together, interlaced their fingers, and brought them to his chest. Above his heart. She could feel his heartbeat strong and rapid beneath his ribs. The palm of his other hand found its way to the small of her back. She registered the sensation and sighed at the pleasure of his touch.

  Slightly stiff and awkward in the stranger’s embrace, Kate tried to relax as they moved to the beat of the music.

  “You’re tense. No need—I don’t bite, and it’s just a dance. Been told I’m good at it,” he said with a gentle smile.

  She gazed up, seeing her reflection mirrored in his sunglasses, eyes wide, hair drifting back from her overheated face. It felt good to be in a man’s arms again. She followed his lead and let her body soften against him.

  They danced for the remainder of the song, and he kept swaying through the interlude. Another began, and he tightened his hold on her waist.

  “Name’s Cash. Cash Montgomery. What’s yours?” His voice was a true bass. Rich and gentle, running over her like velvet.

  “Kate,” she breathed, “Kate Sanders.”

  “Beautiful,” he said against her ear. “From Katherine?”

  She nodded. When he didn’t comment, she replied, “Yes.”

  “A queen’s name. Fit for a woman of great beauty and intelligence.”

  “I’m not sure that describes me.” She laughed a little self-consciously.

  He pulled her slightly closer. “I can attest to your beauty myself. You’re lovely. You keep in shape, yet you have a woman’s curves. Your choice of fragrance tells me you like the outdoors and flowers. You like to enhance your beauty, not dramatize it.”

  “You can tell all that from one dance? I think you must be extraordinarily perceptive.”

  “I have to be.”

  He settled into the dance, and had her chest to chest, thigh to thigh. The buckle of his belt pressed into her waist, and she could feel the hardness of muscle beneath the thin layer of his shirt. So far, she was impressed. And as much as she hated to admit it, she liked him. Suddenly it didn’t seem strange to be dancing in his arms. He didn’t seem strange. She wasn’t scared, and she didn’t want to run. Not at all. It felt good. It felt right. It felt like home.

  He held her tight as they danced and listened to the music in the night. His arms around her waist, he guided her through the music as the band played nostalgic love songs. The hum of people’s conversations provided a pleasant accompaniment for the romantic mood as they moved in unison. The sensations of his embrace, the fresh scent of soap and aftershave enveloped her, and she couldn’t think—didn’t want to think. She simply held on and danced.

  Slowly she began to thaw, to melt, to feel again. Like a woman. A feminine side of herself she’d hidden, buried, and lost a long time ago. It was a miracle.

  “I can’t see your eyes,” Kate remarked softly, as she gazed into his face.

  The muscles in his arms contracted, his attention centered on her mouth.

  “Is there some reason you’re wearing dark glasses tonight? An injury? Hiding from something? Another woman? A wife?” Though she teased, he wasn’t smiling. Perhaps her questions offended him.

  A shadow crossed his face briefly, but he shrugged a shoulder. “Suspicious little thing, aren’t you? No. I’m not married.”

  He didn’t exactly answer her, but dropped his chin gently down on the top of her head, his breath teasing tendrils of hair that tickled her ear and caressed her cheek. Silence. Not an awkward one—comfortable, yet exciting at the same time.

  As if someone had said, “Shh,” to the bar sounds and the buzz of voices, they danced in a vacuum. Alone—just the two of them, his movements almost a counterpoint to the lyrics of the music as they two-stepped around the perimeter of the dance floor. She couldn’t help the sigh that fell from her lips. He was a good dancer, this handsome man named Cash, with the strong arms and muscled body. A smile crossed her face.

  “This is nice,” she breathed.

  A half smile tweaked the corner of his mouth. “Glad you like it.” Then, after a pause, “I like it, too.” He maneuvered her into another, faster-paced tune but kept her firmly in his embrace.

  “Do they bother you?” he asked, returning to her earlier observation. “The glasses, I mean.”

  “No.” she replied. “But I’d like to see your eyes.”

  Cash’s hand splayed along her back, his thumb making lazy circles along her spine. It tickled, but not in a bad way. In fact, it was quite nice. His touch both soothed her and excited her. Everything about him excited her.

  “Soon,” he said, as if spending time with him in the future was already decided and would be in the natural progression of things to come. It surprised her that she was okay with that.

  She’d avoided all contact with men since Clark, and yet here she was, practically melting in the arms of a total stranger. A good place. A right place. So good and so right she had no desire for the music to end.

  This was different.

  He was different.

  The music played on, and not knowing what to think or what to say, she simply followed his lead, and enjoyed the hard strength of the body pressed against her.

  When the song ended, he didn’t let her go. He paused, staring down at her with an enigmatic smile on his face.

  When she moved to leave, he tightened his grip. “Don’t. Let’s dance the next one.”

  The band modulated into a snappy rendition of “Sway,” and most of the couples left the dance floor. Again her partner planted his hand firmly at her waist and picked up the tempo. She followed his lead, and before long she was holding on for dear life and smiling up at him while they clung to each other.

  She laughed aloud with unadulterated joy as Cash whirled her to the music. He was a great dancer, and this was such fun. How long had it been since she’d been so happy, so free? As the natural rhythm propelled them around the floor, Kate grinned and let him have his way. Around and around and around. Swaying to the song. Faster and faster until she was breathless and giggling in his arms.

  Wonderful. She couldn’t believe it. The weight of the last two years lifted, and she felt light as a feather in his arms. Why tonight? Why this? Why him? All she knew was that for the first time in more than two years she was having a good time. No. Not a good time, a sensational time—and she closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and surrendered to the magic of the moment. By the end of the song, he’d maneuvered them near her friends’ table, and when the music stopped, he stopped.

  Surprised and disappointed the dance had ended, she hesitated. Cash lifted her hand and pressed his moist mouth against her fingers. There was no way she couldn’t smile at him. “So gallant.”

  Laughing softly, he bumped his big body against her, and she scooted into the booth and made room for him. He took advantage of the space, propped his forearms on the table, stole a healthy sip of her melting margarita, and grinned.

  “Whew. Dancing is a workout. I haven’t done that in a while.”

  A little dancing wouldn’t wear this man out. He wasn’t even breathing hard.

  “Me either,” she replied, not wanting to break the connection, and took a sip of her drink. She searched the room for her friends. Just as she anticipated, Gigi and Blondie were talking at the bar, while Ellie and Dark-and-Handsome rocked side to side at the edge of the dance floor. They had the table to themselves.

  “Your name. Cash. Is it short for something?” she asked.

  “Sure you want to know?” He waited while she nodded. “Charles…Charles Kendall Montgomery. My great-grandfather’s name. A bit of a mouthful for a boy. I settled on Cash, or rather, my friends did,” he replied, giving her all of his attention.

  “And the glasses? There’s no sun this time of night. After all, the eyes are the mirrors to the soul. I’d like to see yours. Don’t worry. I’m not squeamish.”

  Cash hesitated. Then his fingers closed a
round the frames, and he slowly lowered the dark lenses and placed them on the table.

  The first thing Kate noticed was the fine texture of his skin, and the faint flush of color showing high on his cheekbones. The second was that he had the most beautiful blue eyes she’d ever seen on a man. Vibrant blue, staring down at her face, but appearing unfocused.

  Third were the scars.

  Fine white lines crisscrossed his eyebrows and lids, some older and faded, some newer, still red. Not jagged or raw, not from the injury, whatever it may have been, but from a surgery. A repair. A knot of sympathy formed in her chest. Another survivor.

  His face turned toward her, giving her full access. A little tick flexed in his jaw while he waited for her to comment. He remained silent, patient, still. Allowing time for her to process his less than perfect face.

  “It happened a long time ago—in the service. Iraq. One minute I was fine, the next a sniper’s bullet ricocheted off my helmet and entered my skull above my eye. I came home with traumatic brain injury, my sight compromised by a damaged optic nerve. Lots of surgeries and rehab. This is the result.”

  A tick pulsed in his jaw while he waited for her to comment.

  Why she did it, she didn’t know, but she lifted her fingers and gently traced the lines. He froze, yet allowed her touch while she intimately explored the creases and textures of his face.

  “But you’re better now?”

  He nodded.

  “Does it turn you off?” he asked bluntly.

  “Not at all. Your scars don’t offend me. You’re as handsome without them as with them. The glasses, I mean. If you wear the aviators to hide your scars, there’s no need.”

  His head cocked, and his lips curved in a crooked smile. “Not hiding. I’ve worn the glasses so long, I forget I have them on. I hardly notice them anymore. Day or night, until recently, it all looked the same. The scars are off-putting to most women. Didn’t want to scare you away.”

  “No woman in her right mind would be frightened of you,” she responded. “I certainly wasn’t. You look quite mysterious wearing them, you know. Gives you an air of danger, makes a woman wonder what’s behind the shades.”

  “And?”

  Kate laughed to lighten the atmosphere. “Not knowing you all that well, I can only guess. But at first glance, I’d say a very attractive man whose external scars have left a few internal ones.”

  “You, Katherine, are a very perceptive woman.”

  “That I am, Mr. Montgomery,” she teased in reply. “That I am. Thank you, by the way.”

  He dipped his head. “My pleasure. I enjoy dancing.”

  “That, too, of course. But I meant to thank you for your service—for your sacrifice.”

  He shrugged. “I was only doing my job, but you’re welcome. Thank you for caring.”

  His forefinger traced the back of her hand, and tickled the valleys of soft skin between her knuckles. “You have such delicate hands. Long fingers. Soft skin. Do you play a musical instrument?”

  “I played the piano as a child. In fact, I just moved into a new apartment—a townhouse, actually. And I was thinking about buying a piano. I used to love playing the classics, even some of the more contemporary compositions. Schoenberg.”

  “Ah, you must have real talent.”

  “Some—but I’m strictly amateur. It’s a great release, music.”

  “I agree. When I first came stateside, after I was injured, I met a wonderful music therapist. She helped me a great deal. In fact, we’re friends still—she and her husband and I.”

  “That’s wonderful.” Kate became distracted by the sensations aroused as he continued to pet her fingers. His skin was lightly calloused, his touch warm and firm. Nice.

  Wow. Not much doubt about a connection with this man. Every touch caused currents of heat to ripple under her skin. She might not know much about him other than his name, and that he was a hero, unerringly polite, a wonderful dancer with movie-star looks, and smelled good enough to eat. Didn’t matter. It was a good start and enough to make her want to know more.

  “Are you smiling?” he asked. “I can’t see the details of your face. Want to, but it might look strange in a public place with the Friday night crowd watching.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “In order to see you, I’d have to touch you—something I very much want to do. But not in the middle of a crowded bar on a Friday night,” he explained, leaning close, as if he intended to do just that. “It’s quite an intimate experience—not at all something that should be done in a public place.”

  Suddenly she had an image of Cash and her, alone in a room somewhere. Him, outlining her face, arms, body. Getting to know the shape and feel of her. Seeing her as only he could. Touching her with warm and seeking fingers, his breath hot on her face as he hovered over her lips.

  She swallowed the moisture that flooded her mouth.

  Was she really ready to open herself up to another man’s rejection?

  It was then the panic set in. What was she doing? She liked Cash, but she was leery of taking things further. She responded to him on a physical level but hesitated to reveal herself to him. She knew she had to move forward but was uncertain about taking these first, essential steps.

  She wanted him but was afraid. Fear—stark and simple. It crippled her still.

  “I…you’ll have to excuse me. I…ah…need the ladies’ room.” Kate pressed against his shoulder and forced him to the edge of the seat.

  “Of course.” He stood politely by the side of the table and allowed her to rise.

  A gentleman. Damn. He was one of the good guys.

  “I’ll be right back,” she lied badly, and headed toward the restroom at the back of the bar. Feeling guilty and scared at the same time, she spared him a glance. He gazed in her direction, and she knew her behavior was deplorable, yet she was unwilling to backtrack and tell him goodbye.

  She fought her way through the crowd to the restrooms at the rear of the bar. She glanced around for Ellie and Gigi and, not finding them, changed directions. The rear entrance was just ahead. She pushed it open and made her way to the front of the building and the taxi stand just down the block.

  A pang of guilt for abandoning Cash hit her in the stomach, and she was ashamed of her behavior. Her mother had raised her better than this, and Gigi and Ellie would be furious with her. With good reason. She was furious with herself.

  Cash had been nothing but nice. A real gentleman, not coming on too strong, letting her know he was attracted to her without becoming a leech. Now he had every right to be angry.

  For a moment, she considered going back inside. No. Better just leave well enough alone. By now he’d know she’d skipped out on him, and she’d probably never see him again anyway. No, time to go home. She’d broken the ice. Met, danced, talked with a man tonight, and come a long way. But she’d acted poorly, and it was inexcusable.

  She didn’t go back in. It was done. Still, her conscience nagged her. If there was a way to contact him, she’d call and apologize. It was the least she could do. If not, she’d regrettably let it go.

  She hailed a cab, gave the driver the address of her condo, and sat back against the seat. Staring out the window, she relived each minute of her evening. It had been fun. Exciting. Even romantic. Too bad she’d muffed it at the end.

  Feeling more alone than ever, Kate made her way into her apartment, brushed her teeth, and settled in for the night. When she closed her eyes, Cash’s face was imprinted on the back of her lids. When she breathed, his scent filled her nostrils. When she remembered him holding her as they danced, the strength of his arms and the heat of his body enveloped her.

  Not a bad way to fall asleep. Not at all. If only the nagging of her guilty heart would let her.

  Chapter Three

  Cash Montgomery relaxed in his favorite chair, savored a generous sip of his customary single malt, and wondered what the hell to do. First woman he’d been interested in since his wif
e died, and she’d taken one look at him and run.

  While he was at it, what was he going to do with the rest of his life? He’d served his country, faced his demons like a man, was raising his daughter without the help of a mother, and earned a decent living. He’d done pretty well, so far—for a blind man.

  But his sweet Suzanna was growing up. Eleven, almost twelve years old. Hard to imagine. His little princess was at the age when she needed a woman in her life. Puberty, boys, dating—all that lay in front of them. He was in way over his head. He needed help.

  The answer to his problems? A woman. Not just any woman. Someone special, with love and kindness in her nature. Someone warm and real. Someone to love Suzanna and mother her. Life was hard enough for a young girl, but to be without a mom? Without a female to give her direction and go through all the girly things with her?

  Not an easy task. Perhaps he should advertise. Disabled Man Seeking Woman to Raise Daughter and Share His Bed. Yeah—that would work.

  Most women his age were married, with a house full of kids. Or divorced, with their sights set on a bank account the second go-around. Internet dating? Come on. Who was he fooling? His physical wounds had healed pretty well, and the surgery on his optic nerve had been successful. Seeing light and dark and the density of form was great, but though it was improving, still no details, and it was those damned details that meant the difference.

  Finding a woman, touching her, living with a feminine presence in his life again—damn. He wanted that. But he wanted the visual, too. Wanted to see her eyes darken with passion, see the smile on her face when he bent in for a kiss, see her blissed out after he’d made love to her all night long.

  Only fools wish for something that will never happen.

  What woman in her right mind would voluntarily take on a disabled soldier with a daughter, anyway? No one he’d met in the last four years. The only response he’d gotten from woman number one—an awkward civility. And woman number two—he still remembered the sound of her feet hitting the concrete. Admittedly, he and Suzanna were a big project. But they had a lot to give in return. He just needed to find the right woman. She had to be out there somewhere.