Every Last Fantasy
“So, do you think there’s anything you can do?” Vikky
had asked him, a teasing lilt to her voice, her pretty
blue eyes dancing merrily.
Hell, yeah, he’d see what
he could do.
As
Erik pulled into the small Indiana town where they’d
grown up, he recalled the Santa episode. That woman was
dangerous. Oh, he figured she had done it just because
Cindy had assumed she wouldn’t—and maybe she did it to
aggravate Mickayla.
But
she had been speaking the honest truth, he suspected.
And
damned if he hadn’t been more turned on than he’d ever
been in his life.
Drumming his fingers on his thigh, he debated whether or
not to go into the bank and see if she was there. He
almost pulled away.
Almost.
But
then he recalled that low, husky laugh, that wicked
gleam in her bluer-than-blue eyes and that odd, hopeful
note to her voice.
He
had felt more alive since talking to her than he had
felt in months.
Oh, yeah. He was going in.
It
was Monday and she was back at work. Her episode with
Santa had passed and she had all but shoved it out of
her mind. Good for a giggle at the time, but her mood
had dropped again, swinging awfully low and she knew
damn good and well that teasing some stranger wasn’t
going to do a damn thing for it this time.
She
needed a change. A big change.
Ah hell, Vikky mused as
Rosa Fielding continued to jaw on about her gout, and
her bad heart, and her rheumatism. I need to get laid.
Bad.
She
grimaced as she was finally able to get away from old
Mrs. Fielding. With her back to the counter, she caught
Micky’s gaze and rolled her eyes, suppressing the urge
to make a stabbing motion at her belly.
Kill me now, she mouthed.
Micky smirked.
Damn, that woman was as long-winded as they came. Her
ears practically ached from listening to her gab for the
past thirty minutes. She shot hopeful glance at the
clock and saw that she only had about ten minutes to go
until lunch. Eureka…a break!
From the corner of her eye, she saw a large shadow step
up to her window and she plastered a bright, friendly
smile on her face. Those eyes…
That was the first thing she noticed, his eyes. Big
gray-green eyes with thick lashes. Then he smiled, a
slight lift to one corner of his mouth.
“I
don’t believe it…Erik Fortner,” she said, shaking her
head and leaning on the counter, staring at him with a
dopey grin.
Damn, he was still as good-looking as he had been ten
years ago.
“Hello, Vikky,” he said. The low, rough voice sent a
shiver down her spine, rubbing over her skin like a
caress.
“What are you doing back in Corydon? Aren’t you a
big-time hotshot reporter now?” she drawled.
He
laughed, leaning his elbows on the counter. “I’m not a
reporter. I’m a photojournalist…big difference,” he
said. “And I’m taking a break. A very long one.”
She
watched something dark and grim enter his eyes and her
heart went out to him. “I heard you spent some time over
in Iraq. I’m awfully glad to see you’re still in one
piece,” she said quietly.
He
shrugged. “That’s why I’m taking the break. My head…some
of the things I saw are messing with my mind. I think it
was the right thing, going over there, but still… My
mind is raw from it,” he said, his eyes taking on a
far-off look. For a second, she thought he forgot where
he was, and when he blinked and looked around, a bemused
look in his eyes, it just helped confirm that idea.
“It’s really good to see you, Erik,” she said, smiling,
leaning over to peck his cheek across the counter.
He
turned his head and she could almost swear he did it on
purpose so, at the last second, her lips brushed his
mouth instead of his cheek. And her entire body
literally sizzled from that light contact. Pulling back,
she felt the blood rushing to her face as he said,
“Oops. Sorry.”
Judging by the look in his eyes, he wasn’t sorry at all.
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