“What’s playing tonight?” he asked her from behind. “Tell me it has mind-numbing action, or at least a monster or two.”
Smiling, she swung to face him, walking backward as she did. “We’ve got Sylvester Stallone in Rocky or Warren Beatty in Bugsy. Take your pick.”
“Bugsy, as in the guy who got Las Vegas up and running?”
“That’s the one.”
“Do you have a preference?”
She teased him with her expression. “You know I do, and I know you do. So where does that leave us?”
“In your theater of choice, apparently. I’m willing to bend any way you want me to, Mel. I said something like that in my wedding vows, I think. I remember your vows to me a whole lot better.”
So did she, all too well. In fact, she could still recite them from memory. But not there, not then. Not yet. Damn!
With a sigh, she swung back around. “Tell you what,” she said. “Why don’t we do the fair thing and flip a coin?”
And, while they did, try not to envision the myriad of ways one or both of them could die in a dark, small-town movie theater.
Gert reluctantly stayed home with Gomer, Pepper, and an old Bette Davis movie. Laidlaw kept watch in the lobby of the double theater. Thirty-plus people filed into the larger one, where Rocky had played nightly for the past week. Fewer than a dozen took on Bugsy Siegel and his band of baddies. Included in the lower number were Linda and Carl, as well as Percy and his wife. Apparently, the couple had made up. They were munching popcorn and chatting amiably with their seatmates.
“I am so into gangster flicks right now,” Melia declared as she climbed the stairs to the balcony.
Johnny guided her onto a seat in the cramped balcony.
He draped an arm over the back of her chair. When they’d first started dating, movie theaters had seemed incredibly romantic to her. She wondered if it could ever be like that again—if anything could ever be the way it had once been between them.
“I used to love going to the movies when I was in high school,” she said without thinking.
“So did I. Sad to say we’re not teenagers anymore.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Thanks for that.”
Before she could go on, he cupped the nape of her neck. “You know as well as I do you’re a beautiful woman. If Satyr was more of a man and less of a vindictive lunatic, he’d have gone after you in a totally different way.”
Amusement kicked in. “Different as in with candlelight and roses?”
“The guy’s not without his charms, Mel.”
“If you say so. Frankly, it’s been my experience that obsession tends to bleed through any facade. Insanity does it even faster.”
She doubted he even realized he was winding a strand of her hair around his finger when he shrugged. “I’m not sure I’d call Satyr insane. He’s become sociopathic to some extent, and cruel. But he knows exactly what he’s doing and why.”
Twisting slightly, she angled her head back to regard him. “How did you manage to avoid that?”
“The cruelty? I didn’t.”
It took her a moment to understand his meaning and interpret the silence that underscored it.
“I’m still working my way through your plan. Well, yours and McCabe’s. All in all, I think I would have preferred it if you set yourself up as the person who was unfaithful. Then I could have been outraged instead of feeling like scum.”
“I couldn’t take the risk that you’d forgive me, put my lapse down to overwork, and let me back into your life.”
“My God, I’m an incredibly virtuous person in your eyes. I loved you, Johnny, but not that much. Not cheating much.”
“You say that now, but would you feel the same if I really had cheated on you?”
She offered him a sweet smile. “We’ll never know, will we?”
“We might.” As the credits began to roll during the opening scene, Johnny whipped her onto his lap so she was straddling him. “I need you to forgive me, Mel. I don’t know what more I can say than I’m sorry.”
Caught off guard, she steadied herself by setting her hands on his shoulders. But she recovered quickly. Shoving back, she held him off straight-armed. “We’re not going there, Johnny. I’m still really angry at you.” Although he was making it very difficult at the moment for her to stay that way. She stared down at him—saw the guilt and sadness and God knew what else in his eyes.
He trapped the back of her head to hold her still.
“Say no, Mel. Say it right now, to my face. Tell me it’s over. We’re done. You want me to leave.”
She looked deeper into his eyes. Stopped struggling, stared at him. “Would you leave if I told you to?”
“Yes. Not until I knew you were safe. One hundred percent all the way out of danger. But yeah, I’d go then. And stay gone if that’s what you wanted.”
“You’re a bastard.” She wanted desperately to push him away, but dammit, his eyes were amazing. So dark and fathomless. She could get lost in the color and depth of them, had on too many occasions to count. She couldn’t help it. She leaned into him. Anger sputtered as the need inside her rose. “Jesus, Johnny. How do I know I can trust you all the way?”
“You don’t.”
And that was part of the appeal, wasn’t it? The knowing that he’d never cheat on her with another woman, yet also understanding he’d never be fully forthcoming about his work, or his motives for doing almost anything else?
She dug her fingers into his shoulders and felt the enticing combination of bone and sinew and muscle beneath them—the warmth of his skin, the smell of soap and fresh cotton, the gleam in his amazing eyes, the near smile hovering on his mouth.
Behind her, the music soared. So did the temperature of the air around them.
“I wanted to hate you after McCabe told me what you’d done. I wanted to hate you as much as I’d hated myself for three years. I almost made it there. But something stopped me just short of my goal. Hold fast to my heart as I will to yours. I said that to you when we got married, and I meant it. I still need to get over being mad, but I believe you thought you were doing the right thing.”
“I love you, Mel.”
“I believe that, too.” She slid down farther, until her forearms were resting on his shoulders and her hands were clasped loosely behind his neck. Until her mouth was less than an inch away from his. “We’re not the people we were three years ago. I’m not sure we ever will be again.”
“I don’t want to be that person.” He ran his thumb lightly over her cheekbone. “I also have to say I’m not necessarily better for having lived through the past three years.”
A smile blossomed. “Tough guy, huh?”
“More than before.”
“Ditto that,” she said, and giving up the struggle, slid into a kiss that had no option but to be hot and dark and laced with the fury of a full-blown storm.
Her mind, the theater, everything around her turned to black and white.
He tasted like the night, like the danger that surrounded them. Excitement built inside her. Her mouth was a fever on his. She wanted more, needed it. The feel of his hands sliding over her ribs to the waistband of her shorts told her he wanted the same thing she did.
Desire for him spiked. There was nothing teasing about his kiss. The demand was there, but he controlled it.
She could pull away, push him away, at any time. She had no doubt he’d let it end. Because, well…because he was Johnny.
“You’re killing me, Mel.” He ran his tongue along the side of her jaw.
“That’s the plan.” Letting her head fall back, she allowed him to explore the full length of her throat with his mouth. “It’s just a different brand of torture.”
Because heat and desire and hunger aside, they were sitting in a movie theater. And while kissing him was a delicious experience, Melia had no particular love for sticky floors or faded velvet seats.
“Johnny…”
“Busy here.” He turned her face with his fingers so his mouth could begin a fresh assault on hers.