Free Night Music by Linda Cajio Page A

showed up in triumph. Damn him, she cursed silently, and dragged herself across his torso in retaliation.
    “It’s so little in here, isn’t it,” she said, watching the color darken on his face. For a moment she thought he was going to kiss her.
    Instead he did nothing, just closed his eyes.
    Once she was past him, she heard his breath whoosh out of his lungs. Immediately she turned her gaze to the oven. She might have forced a response from him, but unfortunately she had one of her own to cope with. Her breasts tingled from the contact, the nipples tight buds. Blood pumped through her torso and thighs slowly, almost pulsing, her own lungs were having trouble finding air, and her stomach was fluttering. This was too dangerous, she thought.
    She bent down in her cramped corner to view the oven range. The fluttering increased. Ignoring the queasy sensation, she asked, “How do you light it?”
    “With a match,” he snapped, twisting dials. Unseen gas hissed into the air, bringing with it the familiar rotten-eggs odor. Her insides flipped sickeningly at the smell. Devlin turned off the dials, and the hissing stopped. Her stomach returned to near normal. She swallowed and swiped at the cold beads of perspiration that had suddenly popped up on her forehead. She’d taken Dramamine early, so she knew it wasn’t seasickness. It was the close quarters with Devlin.
    He pointed up into the oven, to where the broiler area would be, his finger on a little hole in thefront. “Light it here for both stove and oven. And don’t blow us up!”
    She straightened. “I’m not an idiot.”
    He looked her up and down. “Couldn’t go by me in those shoes.”
    “What’s wrong with my shoes?”
    “Nothing a teething puppy couldn’t fix.”
    “You,” she pronounced succinctly, “have the manners of a gorilla.”
    “And you have the sense of an antelope! If you don’t break your neck on the deck in those things, it’ll be a major achievement.”
    He stared angrily at her, and she stared right back. The silence lasted for one interminable breathtaking minute, then they were in each other’s arms, their mouths meeting in a hungry kiss. Their tongues plunged together, rubbing, curling, faster and faster. His hands were everywhere, holding her body hard against his. Excitement and hot need ran swiftly through her, and she dug her fingers into his shoulders to anchor herself against being swept away. She wanted him, and she couldn’t stop herself. Not the sniping nor the logic nor their blatant incompatibility could override the combustion he produced inside her.
    “Hey, you two!” Lettice shouted from above.
    They broke apart instantly.
    “Are we ever going to get moving?” Lettice sounded impatient.
    Devlin raked his fingers through his hair, looking everywhere but at her. Hilary was grateful not to be under that intense gaze of his—especially now.
    “I’d better go,” he said. “You know what to do?”
    She nodded, not daring to speak, for fear her voice would betray the confusion inside her.
    He grunted, then turned on his heel and strode out of the galley, his shoulders filling the narrow aisle.
    Hilary closed her eyes and slumped against the wall.
    “Holy Christmas,” she muttered, still shaken by the kiss.
    Every time she lost her temper with him, she did something incredibly stupid—like stabbing him in the foot with her spoon or rubbing herself against him like a wanton.
    Humiliation heated her face, and she ground her teeth together to fight the reaction. Her insides rumbled. The man was obtuse and infuriating. Never again, she thought. She’d just get herself through this outing with dignity. She hoped her grandfather would appreciate the torture she was putting herself through for him.
    Her lips still tingled from it.
    Dev glanced over his shoulder as they rounded the southern end of the inlet at the Crest. The grandparents were still in the stern, still staring out at the sea, still absolutely