cups from a stack inside a wood cupboard and poured liquor into one. He hesitated before pouring the second, glancing to Diana. “Do you drink hard stuff? I wouldn’t want to be accused of corrupting a minor.”
“I’ve drunk liquor before.” Once in her whole life, but she wasn’t about to admit it to him. Maybe if he thought she was a little more worldly than she actually was, he might treat her like a woman instead of a child.
He added liquor to the second cup and handed it to her, lifting his in a toast. “To a young and very beautiful lady. Happy birthday, Diana.”
When he downed his drink, she did the same. Fire burned her throat, stealing the breath from her lungs.Diana tried not to cough and succeeded in keeping her reaction to a choking gasp.
“It does make you warm, doesn’t it?” she laughed, her voice husky.
“It does,” Curly agreed and refilled her cup. “And it helps you relax, too.”
After a couple of sips, Diana discovered he was right about that, too. It still burned going down, but not nearly as much as the first time. And it made her feel pleasantly relaxed, giving everything around her a rosy glow. They talked about trivial things. He refilled her cup again. She was beginning to feel delightfully lightheaded when Curly snapped his fingers.
“I promised you dancing, didn’t I? Come on.” He reached for her hand and led her out of the tack room.
In the wide stable corridor that ran lengthwise to divide the stalls, Curly turned on the radio her father had installed there to soothe the horses. A dreamy instrumental ballad played from the speakers. Only the light from the tack room provided illumination.
He turned, flashing her that bewitching and seductive smile. “Will you dance with me?” he asked, as if they were at a nightclub instead of in a stable.
“Yes.” Diana seemed to float into his arms.
He was strong. She could feel his powerful muscles as he held her close. They swayed with the slow tempo of the music. Diana had never danced this way before; she could feel the pressure of his thighs against her hips and the hand spread near the small of her back.
“How do you like this birthday celebration?” His handsome face seemed only inches away. “Drinking, dancing—”
“—and the right company,” Diana said, supplying the last ingredient.
“And the right company,” Curly agreed. His gaze roamed over her upturned face. “It’s a pity I wasn’t here last year for your birthday. Sweet sixteen. I don’t suppose you have reached your seventeenth birthday without being kissed?”
“I’ve been kissed a few times,” she said, making it sound like an understatement. She studied the dark, springing curls of his hair, wanting to touch them and run her fingers through them.
“Today?” he asked.
“No.”
“No birthday is complete without a birthday kiss,” Curly said.
She had been kissed before, but when his mouth moved onto hers, his kiss didn’t resemble the awkward exchanges that had come previously. He claimed her lips with practiced ease. The relaxing effect of the liquor she had consumed permitted Diana to let instinct direct her response.
“Not bad for an amateur,” he commented when it ended.
“My teachers haven’t exactly been professionals.” She tried to sound as calm as he had, but his kiss had been as wonderful as her romantic imaginings had dreamt it would be.
“Let me give you some free lessons.”
“Okay.”
Any pretense of dancing was abandoned. Her arms circled his neck, fingers sliding into the thickly springing curls at the back of his head. She smelled the whiskey on his breath and knew hers carried the same odor. The driving pressure of his mouth forced her head back.
Diana wasn’t certain whether it was the liquor or the long, drugging kiss that was making her feel so faint. She decided it was a combination of both when he began nibbling at her neck and starting a whole new flurry of sensations. She moaned in reaction
“I’ve drunk liquor before.” Once in her whole life, but she wasn’t about to admit it to him. Maybe if he thought she was a little more worldly than she actually was, he might treat her like a woman instead of a child.
He added liquor to the second cup and handed it to her, lifting his in a toast. “To a young and very beautiful lady. Happy birthday, Diana.”
When he downed his drink, she did the same. Fire burned her throat, stealing the breath from her lungs.Diana tried not to cough and succeeded in keeping her reaction to a choking gasp.
“It does make you warm, doesn’t it?” she laughed, her voice husky.
“It does,” Curly agreed and refilled her cup. “And it helps you relax, too.”
After a couple of sips, Diana discovered he was right about that, too. It still burned going down, but not nearly as much as the first time. And it made her feel pleasantly relaxed, giving everything around her a rosy glow. They talked about trivial things. He refilled her cup again. She was beginning to feel delightfully lightheaded when Curly snapped his fingers.
“I promised you dancing, didn’t I? Come on.” He reached for her hand and led her out of the tack room.
In the wide stable corridor that ran lengthwise to divide the stalls, Curly turned on the radio her father had installed there to soothe the horses. A dreamy instrumental ballad played from the speakers. Only the light from the tack room provided illumination.
He turned, flashing her that bewitching and seductive smile. “Will you dance with me?” he asked, as if they were at a nightclub instead of in a stable.
“Yes.” Diana seemed to float into his arms.
He was strong. She could feel his powerful muscles as he held her close. They swayed with the slow tempo of the music. Diana had never danced this way before; she could feel the pressure of his thighs against her hips and the hand spread near the small of her back.
“How do you like this birthday celebration?” His handsome face seemed only inches away. “Drinking, dancing—”
“—and the right company,” Diana said, supplying the last ingredient.
“And the right company,” Curly agreed. His gaze roamed over her upturned face. “It’s a pity I wasn’t here last year for your birthday. Sweet sixteen. I don’t suppose you have reached your seventeenth birthday without being kissed?”
“I’ve been kissed a few times,” she said, making it sound like an understatement. She studied the dark, springing curls of his hair, wanting to touch them and run her fingers through them.
“Today?” he asked.
“No.”
“No birthday is complete without a birthday kiss,” Curly said.
She had been kissed before, but when his mouth moved onto hers, his kiss didn’t resemble the awkward exchanges that had come previously. He claimed her lips with practiced ease. The relaxing effect of the liquor she had consumed permitted Diana to let instinct direct her response.
“Not bad for an amateur,” he commented when it ended.
“My teachers haven’t exactly been professionals.” She tried to sound as calm as he had, but his kiss had been as wonderful as her romantic imaginings had dreamt it would be.
“Let me give you some free lessons.”
“Okay.”
Any pretense of dancing was abandoned. Her arms circled his neck, fingers sliding into the thickly springing curls at the back of his head. She smelled the whiskey on his breath and knew hers carried the same odor. The driving pressure of his mouth forced her head back.
Diana wasn’t certain whether it was the liquor or the long, drugging kiss that was making her feel so faint. She decided it was a combination of both when he began nibbling at her neck and starting a whole new flurry of sensations. She moaned in reaction
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