Every eye in the rehearsal hall was on her, and Mattie knew it. As she played, the music electrified her, made her whole body come alive.
Hunter was sitting in the front row, long legs stretched out, one arm flung carelessly across the empty seat beside him. He appeared to be paying no special notice to her, but she had glanced his way often enough to know that he was aware of every move she made.
She grinned. Things were going her way. She brought Time on my Hands to a rousing conclusion and winked broadly at Hunter. He acknowledged the wink by quirking one eyebrow upward. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
"That was great, Mattie. Stupendous!" The director of the benefit, Jo Ann Tyler, stood up and led the applause. She pushed her glasses up into her stylish mop of dark curls and consulted her note pad. "Do you want to go on, or do you want to take a break?"
"One more, Jo Ann."
The director turned to the other performers. "We’ll take a break after Mattie finishes this one."
Mattie swiveled on the piano bench and looked down at Hunter. 'This one's for you." She spoke clearly enough for everybody in the front row to hear.
Jo Ann bent over her note pad, pretending she hadn't heard, but the two magicians craned their necks to get a better look at Hunter.
Once again Mattie saw his eyebrow shoot upward. Hunter was playing it cool, but she planned to shake him up a bit before the night was over. As she began the opening bars of Temptation she was very well aware that he knew the words. One thing that had attracted them to each other in the first place was his genuine love for music and his ability to sing along with most of the songs she played. He sang quite well, if she remembered correctly.
She grinned as he tensed and sat forward. He was getting the message. The big question was what would he do about it?
She wasn't long finding out. As soon as the song ended and everyone left the rehearsal hall, he jumped onto the stage and leaned against the piano.
"So I'm born to be kissed, am I, Mattie?"
She smiled. "That's what the song said."
"What do you intend to do about it?"
"I don't plan to stand in line behind every other woman in Dallas."
He chuckled. "If memory serves me, you have a rather unique way of annihilating your competition."
"I fight dirty for what I want."
"And what is it you want, Mattie?"
The way he asked the question, with that amber light in his eyes, almost made her lose track of her purpose. She did a light glissando on the keyboard for reassurance, then rose from the piano bench. She was wearing shorts, and standing so close to him that she could feel the rough denim of his jeans against her bare thigh.
"This is what I want." She closed the small space between them. Lacing her hands behind his neck, she molded her body to his. Their eyes locked, and she wasn't sure whether the thundering heart she felt was his or her own.
He used to love her boldness. She remembered how he would always pull her hips against his and capture her lips every time she touched him. Lifting her head, she waited expectantly for his mouth to crush down on hers.
Instead, he quirked an eyebrow upward again. "Well, Mattie?"
"Well, what?"
"Is this all you wanted? If so, hurry up. I'm in need of some refreshment before rehearsal starts again."
“Damn you, Hunter.” She would have jerked away from him, but he suddenly locked his arms around her and hauled her roughly against him.
"I didn't mention the kind of refreshment I had in mind." His smile was deceptively lazy. "I trust you were serious about being my slave, as the song says. I like my women willing and compliant."
He hauled her into his arms right there on the brightly lit stage. It wasn't a kiss; it was an assault. It was Sherman sweeping through Atlanta. It was Joshua tumbling the walls of Jericho. It was Caesar conquering Gaul. As his lips commanded hers, his hands pressed and molded her hips, moving slowly across the back of her denim shorts, wandering downward to caress the bare flesh below them.
Mattie was stunningly aware of his arousal. Her plan was working. She had Hunter in the palm of her hand. All she had to do was offer the body he knew so well, and she could do anything she wanted with him, including breaking his heart.
For a brief while her mouth moved expertly and mechanically as she kissed him, leading him on. But just when she would have backed away, triumphant and unscathed, her body began to betray her. She felt a sudden rush of heat, a frantic thrumming of her pulse. Her lips parted, and she found herself returning his kiss. To her mortification she became willing and compliant in his arms. She melted against him, reveling in the heated thrust of his tongue.
Revenge went begging. Betrayal was forgotten. The past didn't seem to matter. Nothing did except the moment and the kiss.
She knew it was insanity, but that didn't matter either. She felt as if she were standing in the center of a rainbow, its brilliance pouring through her veins, its radiance seeping into her soul.
Her hands crept up and wove into Hunter's untamed hair. The remembered feel of it, springy and alive and somehow very black, sent shock waves through her fingertips. She murmured his name against his lips and felt him smile. At first it was a small smile. Then it widened until it could no longer be contained.
Hunter was laughing. The kissing stopped as he threw back his head and laughed.
"Damn you. Hunter."
"That's twice you've said that, Mattie."
She would have pulled out of his embrace, but he held her tight.
"You're reprehensible," she said. She didn't know whether she was more furious with him or with herself. She was fast losing control.
"Why?" he asked. "Because I gave you what you wanted?" He tipped up her chin with one finger. "That was what you wanted, wasn't it?"
She bit back a hateful no. Anger was no way to handle Hunter. In order for her plan to work, she had to be what he wanted. He did like his women willing and compliant. But he also liked them with a touch of spice.
She forced herself to smile, hoping she'd combined just the right touch of playfulness and sensuality.
"It will do for starters."
"What else did you have in mind, Mattie? I'm willing to play this game."
"Right here on center stage?"
"Why not? We're both accustomed to publicity."
"I don't think Dallas is ready for what I have in mind." She moved her hips provocatively against his. Even through all that denim she could feel the heat of him. It almost made her forget her purpose—again.
Hunter caught his breath as he looked down at her. He held her tightly against him, savoring that well-remembered body for a small eternity. Then, abruptly, he let go.
"Dallas may not be ready," he drawled, "but I am. Anytime, Mattie. Just crook your finger. Or better yet, play that song again. Temptation, wasn't it?" He reached over and traced her lips with his forefinger. "I'll add you to my list."
He walked away quickly, while he still could. He had thought he could play Mattie's little game and not feel a thing. He'd been wrong. He'd never wanted her more than at that moment. Desire raged through him with a force that nearly snapped his control. As he left her standing on the stage, he considered his narrow escape. He'd come too close to backing her through the curtains into a dressing room and taking her with all the fury of a summer storm.
"Just who was the tempted and who was the tempter in that game, Mattie Houston?" he muttered. But it didn't really matter. He felt an exhilaration he hadn't known since those sweet summer days when Mattie had been his love and Dallas had been his challenge.
He was smiling when he walked into the lobby. "I don't know what you're up to, Mattie, but you're on."
He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud, until Jo Ann handed him a glass of lemonade.
"Is it the custom of toy makers to talk to themselves?" she asked.
"Only the sexy ones." His conscious pricked him only a little as he looked at her over the rim of his glass. It wasn’t as if her were leading her on. Every woman in Dallas knew his reputation. And she might be the perfect antidote to Mattie.
Jo Ann dimpled. "I've heard you were arrogant, but your conceit exceeds my expectations."
"I'm always happy to oblige a beautiful woman. Are you busy tonight?"
"I've also heard that you move fast." Jo Ann Tyler assessed him with her round, baby-blue eyes. "For you, I'll cut the rehearsal short."
"It's going to be a mite crowded in that bed," Mattie said. She moved in and linked her arm through Hunter's. "Is ménage a trois your style now, Hunter?"
He smiled down at her. "I'm game if you are."
"I'm more than enough for any man. Two would be superfluous." Mattie glanced significantly at Jo Ann.
Jo Ann's dimples faded. "When I'm directing a show, I like to keep it on a strictly professional basis. I hope everything has been satisfactory so far, Mattie."
"When everything's going my way, I'm easy to please, Jo Ann." Mattie's smile made the remark bantering instead of egotistical.
"Then there'll be no problem. Rehearsal will resume in ten minutes." Jo Ann Tyler took her dimples and her baby blues to the opposite side of the lobby and struck up an animated conversation with Captain Kangaroo.
"Care for a sip of my lemonade?" Hunter asked, offering his glass to Mattie.
"Yes. Being bitchy always makes me thirsty." She took a big swallow and handed the glass back to him.
He lifted it and ran his tongue over the rim exactly where her lips had touched. The unexpected sensuality of the move made her breath catch in her throat.
He lowered the glass. "Are you, Mattie?"
"Am I what?"
"Still more than enough for one man?"
Her heart caught when he said still. Was he remembering or was it a slip of the tongue? Careful. This was a game, not a trip down memory lane.
She made her smile provocative. "Yes."
"What's to be the proving ground? My bed or yours?"
Her eyes widened. She didn't know why his boldness shocked her. He'd always been forthright and aggressive.
"What's the matter, Mattie? Scared?" His black eyes raked her boldly from head to toe.
"Certainly not." Her chin lifted as she rose to the challenge. After all, this was what she'd set out to do. If he moved things along faster than she'd imagined, that simply meant she could put all this behind her that much sooner.
"Good," he said. "From the look on your face, I was beginning to think I'd have to kidnap you."
"You'd do it, wouldn't you?"
"Yes. Since you've deprived me of one woman tonight, I see no reason why you shouldn't be a fairly good substitute."
"I’ll make you eat those words. Hunter Chadwick."
"I'm counting on it, Mattie Houston."
"After rehearsal, then. Your bed." She walked away with more jauntiness than she felt. Playing this game was going to be harder than she had thought. Hunter was no ordinary man. His only consistency was in always doing saying the unexpected. He was bigger than life, virile, vital. And he was almost sinfully handsome.
Mattie forced herself to walk into the rehearsal hall without looking back over her shoulder. Hunter was not an easy man to walk away from.
"Here's to you, Mattie," he said softly. "You're one helluva gutsy lady." His pulse drummed with excitement as he thought of the evening ahead. Whatever her game plan, he was fascinated. This evening was going to be very interesting, he decided. More than that, it might prove to be educational. He might even get a glimpse of Mattie's motives. Pillow talk sometimes loosened the tongue.
"I can hardly wait, Mattie."
He was grinning broadly as he followed her into the rehearsal hall. But not for one second would he ever have admitted that his excitement was due to more than curiosity.
o0o
Mattie aimed her Porsche In the general direction of her garage and screeched to a halt. She hadn't stayed for the rest of rehearsal. Call it a brilliant move, a calculated ploy to make Hunter wonder what she was doing. Call it anything except what it was— cowardice. Seeing the Chadwick puppets again had brought back too many wonderful memories. How they had dreamed, she and Hunter and Fuzzy Wuzzy, his first puppet. How they had laughed, Hunter affecting a deep, rumbling chuckle for the puppet. No, she hadn't stayed. It had been too much.
She tiptoed into the house, hoping to keep from waking Papa Houston. But he bounded down the stairs, did a brief karate kata, and gave a karate bow.
She put her arms around his shoulders and squeezed. "Papa, you're incorrigible. What are you doing up? It's late."
"It's always late for me. I'm getting older every day, and I don't want to miss a thing." He kissed her cheek. "Especially not a minute of seeing my beautiful granddaughter. How was rehearsal?"
"Good."
"How could it be otherwise with my sweet granddaughter there?"
Mattie laughed. "Papa, I've never been sweet in my life, and you know it."
"When a fellow gets to my age, he can say anything he pleases—as long as he knows the difference between what's true and what's not." He chuckled as they walked together up the stairs.
"I won't be staying here tonight, Papa."
"You don't have to report to me, Mattie, but I hope to the Lord he’s somebody I like. I didn't like that fellow you had at the party. Too much muscle. I never did trust anybody who looked like he could bench-press Texas."
"Neither did I."
"Then what in the heck did you invite him for?"
"Appearances. I have to keep my tarnished reputation intact."
Phillip stopped and put his hands on either side of her face. "Mattie. . . Mattie."
He spoke with such compassion that Mattie wanted to hide her face against his shoulder like a child. She wanted to pour out her frustration and her unresolved anger. She wanted to be weak. She wanted to transfer her burden to him. She was tired of being strong. She was tired of rationalizing for Victoria. She was tired of despising Hunter. She was tired of the gay deceit. She was tired of hurting.
Taking a deep breath, she shook off her weakness, blaming it on the tension at the rehearsal hall.
"Papa, don't you worry about me. I'm a tough little hellion. Cut from the same cloth you are. Besides, I’ll just be next door. If I need any help. I’ll simply yell for Uncle Mickey Mouse."
"You'll be with Hunter?"
"Yes."
Phillip was thoughtful for a moment. "I always did like that boy." He patted her cheek. "Good night, my sweet."
Mattie pondered over whether to change out of her shorts into something more seductive. She wanted to make Hunter desire her, but at the same time she didn't want to seem overly eager. In the end she decided on a fragrant bubble bath, the denim shorts, and a short-sleeved cotton blouse. Perhaps they would evoke memories of those wonderful, lazy days on the beaches ten years ago. In a burst of sudden inspiration she even scrubbed the makeup off her face and pulled her hair back in a ponytail.
She leaned close to the mirror and decided that in the dark she could still pass for eighteen. Almost. If you ignored her more-voluptuous curves and the tiny laugh lines next to her eyes.
She flipped off her lights and waited beside her bedroom window. She knew the exact moment Hunter's car turned into his driveway. Her hands clenched on the arms of her chair, and she sat forward to watch him enter his house. His walk was still cocky. She used to love that walk. She could pick him out in a crowd simply by his walk.
He tossed his keys into the air, caught them, and entered his house. She imagined that he was whistling. He always used to whistle. Sweat dampened her palms as she watched his progress through the house by the lights he turned on. Finally she saw the light in his bedroom window. He was there! Her heart pumped so hard, she could almost hear it.
Any minute now he would call. She looked at the silent phone. The minutes ticked by. Why didn't he call? Maybe he was waiting for her to call him. She reached toward the phone just as it rang.
"My bed's empty, Mattie."
His voice sent shivers down her spine. She licked her lips. "I’ll be right over," she said.
"Hurry, Mattie. It's been a long time."
She gently cradled the receiver. Her hands shook. What did he mean—it's been a long time? Did he mean a long time since her, or simply a long time since he'd had a woman? Could it be that something had been missing from his life these past ten years? Could it be that his quest for love had been as futile as hers? Could it be that nothing and nobody had ever filled the emptiness after she'd gone?
Rubbish, she told herself. This was revenge, not déjà vu. Tossing her ponytail defiantly, she walked outside.
"Look out, Hunter Chadwick. Here I come." And with those brave words she crossed through the gap in the hedge between her house and Hunter's.
o0o
Hunter stood watching at his bedroom window. Mattie looked young and vulnerable in the moonlight. Soft. Seductive. Spirited. All the things a man could desire. Then why wasn't he feeling exuberant?
Something was wrong here. As he watched her walk across his patio he tried to decipher his feelings. Why wasn't he excited about having one of the most beautiful, most talented women in the world coming blithely to his bed?
Because it was Mattie. That was the problem. With Mattie, sex had been more than a brief pleasure. It had been an act of love. It had been more than a mere coupling of bodies. It had been a joining of two hearts.
He struck the windowsill with his fist. What was he going to do about this latent attack of scruples? He dared not show his vulnerability, especially to Mattie. She'd broken his heart once, and he'd be damned if she'd do it again.
In the halcyon days of their youth she had been so innocent, so trusting, so warm. Something precious seemed to shrivel up inside him as he heard her tread on the stairway. That was no innocent woman coming boldly to his bedroom door. His smile was cynical. So now the pot was calling the kettle black, was it?
He saw his door open. The die was cast. Now was not the time for silly sentimentality. The woman entering his bedroom was not the girl he'd loved ten years ago. She was as worldly-wise as he.
Mattie stepped into the room.
"What took you so long?" he asked.
"I can't sprint through that hedge as fast as I could ten years ago."
The way she said it, breathless and laughing, with an odd little catch in her voice, drove a shaft through Hunter's heart. Oh, Mattie. Don't resurrect the past. His gaze lingered on the freshly scrubbed face, the ponytail, and he was bereft.
He stood stiffly by the window, pulling himself together, telling himself that all the wishing in the world couldn't bring back their yesterdays.
"Has age also diminished your ability to strip?" he asked.
"No."
Her voice was throaty, sexy. She actually lowered her eyelashes when she said it. Her hands trembled slightly on the top button of her blouse. Watching her, Hunter decided she was a consummate actress.
o0o
Each button she popped open sounded like a thunderclap to Mattie. She was tense and uncertain, and she didn't know why. Now that she had Hunter exactly where she wanted him, she didn't quite know what to do with him. She knew how to make men want her, all right. She knew all the seductive moves, all the subtle glances, all the suggestive words. She knew how to retreat, too, how to leave them laughing and thinking they'd had it all. And how to keep them coming back for more. But this was Hunter. This was the sweet teddy-bear man who still lived somewhere in her memories in spite of the terrible thing that had happened.
She undid the last button and let her blouse slide to the floor. To her overly sensitive ears, its landing sounded like the clap of doom.
Slowly she lifted her face. Hunter was still standing beside the window, as remote and cold as one of Michelangelo's statues. And just as beautiful. For a moment the past and the present became one, and she felt such a surge of joy that she almost rushed across the room into his arms.
The ambivalence of her feelings shocked her. How could she feel joy in the presence of the man who had betrayed her?
Innocent, Hunter thought. Her eyes looked innocent. Why did she keep doing that to him? Why wasn't she acting bold and brazen and wanton? That innocent act was killing him. It was keeping him from lifting that flawless face to his and kissing her until her lips were bruised. It was keeping him from ripping that bra from her intoxicating breasts and drinking his fill of her. It was stopping him from throwing that miraculous body onto the bed and loving her till he was too exhausted to continue.
He hardened his heart.
"Take off the rest."
She licked her lips and slowly unfastened her shorts. They slid down her perfect legs and landed in a heap at her feet.
Mattie in black lace bikini panties and bra was enough to make angels turn in their haloes. Hunter had to sit down. He made a great show of pretended indifference as he sprawled in the armchair beside the window. He hoped the dark would disguise his almost-painful arousal.
"I'm waiting, Mattie."
She reached behind her back for the bra snaps. She felt cold. She felt lonesome. She felt small. And somehow she felt betrayed again.
Her hands hesitated. "You always used to help me with this."
Hunter couldn't stand it any longer. He didn't know whether she was acting, but it didn't matter anymore. What mattered was that he couldn't bring himself to take her as callously as if she'd never meant anything to him. He'd just have to do a little acting of his own. He flinched, stiffening his back.
"Ouch!"
"What is it, Hunter?"
"It's my back. An old injury." He wiggled his back and moaned.
"Lousy timing." She was smiling as she picked up her shorts.
"You can say that again." He stood up and made a great show of trying to loosen his back. "It happens sometimes.”
Mattie fastened her shorts and picked up her blouse, covering a giggle as she bent over. "Are you sure it's not that injury I gave you with the tennis racket?"
He grinned. "Would I con you?"
"I don't know. Would you?"
"I would no more con you than you would con me."
She laughed. "Then we're in trouble. Hunter."
"That was quite a show you put on."
"When?"
"Just now. That innocent act."
She started to say something, then changed her mind. Instead, she stood very still, watching him.
"It was a show, wasn't it, Mattie?" Deny it. Tell me it was no show, Mattie. Tell me you still feel something for me. Tell me you can no more have casual sex with me than I can with you.
The appeal in his black eyes was so strong Mattie almost told him the truth. She almost told him that what had started out as a game of revenge had become a dangerous attraction. She almost admitted that the old spark was still there, that something in her still reached out to him. But the truth would never do. She didn't think she could survive being hurt all over again. If Hunter had hurt her ten years ago, what would he do now, faithless womanizer that he was? No. The truth would never do.
She tossed her ponytail and put a gay lilt into her voice. "Of course, it was a show. I've learned all sorts of interesting tricks in the last ten years." Her reprieve made her brave. She walked toward him with a sway to her hips so provocative, it would have sobered Skid Row bums. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she leaned over and whispered, "When your back gets well, I'll show you a few."
At that moment Hunter could have choked her. He didn't want to hear about her tricks. He didn't want to know what she had become. Reading the headlines had been bad enough. He didn't think he could bear a demonstration. Something in him still wanted Mattie to be the innocent girl she'd been when he'd first known her. As unrealistic as it was, he wanted her to be the "good girl" he'd fallen in love with. Damned if it made any sense to him.
"Go home, Mattie." He pulled her hands off his shoulders.
"No."
"No?"
"That's what I said." She walked over to the bed and sat down. "If I go home. I’ll ruin both our reputations."
"What do you intend to do?"
"Sleep here." She patted the mattress.
"Dammit, Mattie. You can't do that."
"Why not?"
He was temporarily at a loss for words. She grinned up at him. "Because it's my bed," he finally said.
"You can sleep here, too. I won't bother you."
"Good Lord, woman." He paced the floor, speechless. Every now and then he smote the air with his fist.
"You've made a remarkable recovery," she said.
He stopped pacing. "What?"
"Your back. It seems to be all right now."
There was nothing else to do but laugh. He stood in the middle of the room and laughed at the ludicrous situation. Mattie's mouth tilted up at the corners, and then she was laughing too. Their mirth made it seem like old times.
"A pretty pickle we've gotten ourselves into," she said.
"You might say these two old con artists have outfoxed themselves," he agreed.
"What are we going to do about it?"
"One thing's for sure. I'm not sleeping in that bed with you."
"I didn't think you would."
"You're sure you aren't going home?"
"I can't. I told Papa I'd be gone all night. If I go home now, he's liable to think I'm an intruder and attack me."
"Phillip probably would." He chuckled. "Do you still like cartoons, Mattie?"
"I don't know, Hunter. I haven't seen Bugs Bunny in ... a long time."
He opened a door in his entertainment center and rummaged around. "We've just shot a decent night's sleep; we might as well watch TV." He held two tapes aloft. "How does this sound to you—The Revenge of the Road Runner?"
Better than the revenge of Mattie Houston. "Great," she said.
He put one tape into his VCR and walked toward the bed. "Scoot over."
"You aren't taking the chair?"
"No. I always watch TV from my bed." One side of the mattress sank under his weight. "Does it bother you?"
"No," she lied.
"Good. Who do you think's going to win?" he asked as the Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote began their battle of wills.
"Doesn't Road Runner always win?"
"Yes. But just once I'd like to see old Wile E. Coyote win. I'm going to bet on him." He turned up the volume. "Go get 'em, Wile E."
He was so like the fun-loving man she'd fallen in love with. "I'll take that bet. You know you're going to lose, Hunter." She pointed to the TV. "Did you see that? Road Runner's already winning."
"That's okay. Don't you want to know what the wager is?"
"You made me forget to ask."
Hope rose in him. "How did I do that, Mattie?"
By being so like the gentle man I once knew, she started to say. By being so close, you make me dizzy. By being so lovable, you almost make me forget the past. But she said none of those things. "By acting so silly."
"Lady, you ain't seen nothin' yet." He hopped out of bed and pulled a tattered old mass of felt and fur from the top shelf of his closet.
"Fuzzy Wuzzy!" Mattie said.
"The same," Hunter said, affecting the puppet's deep, growly voice. "Who's that sleeping in my bed?"
She laughed. "I'm not sleeping, Fuzzy Wuzzy. I'm watching TV."
Hunter was delighted with her spontaneous response to the puppet. He continued the impromptu show. "Don't you know it's bad for your health to watch TV without eating? Have some potato chips." Working the puppet's hands, he whisked a bag of chips from a drawer of the bedside table.
"You still keep chips beside your bed?"
Hunter grinned. "Shh. Don't tell on us. Fuzzy Wuzzy and I like to eat in bed."
"Don't you dare drop a crumb," she scolded the puppet as Hunter plopped Fuzzy Wuzzy beside her and climbed back into the bed.
"I'm not worried about crumbs tonight," Hunter said, leaning against the headboard and propping his arms behind his head. "I'm not the one who'll be sleeping on them."
"You were invited." She reached for the bag of chips.
He caught her wrist and looked deep into her eyes. "Was I, Mattie?"
She didn't want to lose what was happening between them now, so she told him the truth. "Not really, Hunter. It was all a game."
"Why?"
"I can't tell you."
"Can't, or won't?"
"Both."
He turned her hand over and studied it. "Long, lovely fingers. Talented fingers." He bent his head and kissed the inside of her wrist.
The gesture was so tender it made a small chink in the armor she had built around herself. "Don't."
"Why not?" He massaged her fingers.
"Because . . . you'll miss the cartoon." Deliberately she pulled her hand away. "See? Road Runner's winning."
She was freshly scrubbed and smiling. And he almost believed she was still his Mattie. "Why did you leave?"
"Did you see that rock fall on Wile E.? You're losing, Hunter." She pretended great interest in the cartoon, but he saw the fleeting look of pain on her face.
He called himself fifteen kinds of fool for waiting so long to ask the question he should have asked ten years ago. "I lost a long time ago. Why, Mattie?"
"Forget it. We can't go back."
The truth resounded in the still room like a dirge. They both heard the death knell of a love lost.
On the screen in front of them, Road Runner exacted his final revenge on Wile E. Coyote. Cymbals crashed and drums rolled as Wile E. met his fate beneath the screaming wheels of a train.
Neither spoke as the tape blurred into a gray nothingness. Finally Mattie, the consummate actress, tossed her head, setting her bright hair aswing, and smiled at Hunter.
"I won," she said.
He was falling in love all over again. Heaven help him, he was falling in love with Mattie.
His smile was bittersweet as he rose from the bed and punched the button to rewind the tape. "You certainly did win."
"Well?"
He turned around to face her. "Well, what?"
"Don't be dense, Hunter. What's my prize?"
He walked swiftly to the bed and bent over. "This," he murmured as he cupped her face. "A kiss for old time's sake."
His mouth was tender and undemanding and unbearably sweet. Mattie thought she had died and been reborn at eighteen. There was no probing tongue, no heated desire in the kiss, just gentleness and giving.
When the magic had ended, Hunter looked deep into her eyes. "We both won. Good night, Mattie."
"Good night, Hunter."
He left the room quickly, left Mattie staring at the closed door, her lips still warm from his tender touch. What was she going to do now?