Feels Like the First Time

Zoe inspected the blonde’s costume, then raised a brow. “Really? And you realized it’s 2009, right? Not 1999? Or has life been so bad since school that you’re living in the past?”

Fair question, given that Candice was wearing a cheerleader costume. Not quite the same as the one she’d worn in school, instead of a C on her low-cut sweater, there was a picture of a bee wearing a crown and a bunch of tiny bees lined up like her court. What the hell? Queen-bee bitch was now a job designation? Contrary to Zoe’s petty hopes, Candice hadn’t sagged, uglified or turned into a toad in the past decade. Nope. Blondie was still trim, perky and pretty. Figured.

“I’m in costume,” Candice dismissed. “Apparently we both held on to quite a bit of our high-school personas, hmm?”

Charming as always. Zoe decided then and there she wasn’t giving Candice a second more of her time than she had to. Stealing Gandalf out from under her nose would be her reward for resisting the urge to fling insults.

“Apparently,” was all Zoe said, flourishing her riding crop with a quirk of her brow. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m supposed to meet someone.”

Blue eyes narrowed at the dismissal. Zoe took pleasure in brushing off the woman who so easily stirred up every insecurity she’d ever had.

Crop tapping against her thigh, Zoe made her way across the loud, overheated room and out the side doors into the dark garden, letting the pitch-black evening envelope her in obscurity. She breathed a deep, cleansing breath and closed her eyes. Two more breaths and she could feel her shoulders again underneath the ropes of tension.

Well. That’d been fun. Not.

Absorbing the serenity of the moonlit garden, Zoe took another deep breath and tried to pep-talk herself into going back into the ballroom. Gandalf was in there. She’d be damned if she’d let Candice and her pom-poms intimidate her into losing her edge.

“Whip me, beat me, make me attend a class reunion?”

Zoe spun around to face the owner of the low, male voice. She peered through the dark, only able to make out his costumed body, since his face was shadowed. Still, heat flared and a wide, appreciative grin curved her lips.

Helloooo, gorgeous.

Breathless, she stared. Leaning against the wall, the guy was pure sex appeal. She narrowed her eyes, trying to make out his costume. Tight leather pants, a loose shirt and a bigass sword. Between the dim garden light and what looked like a wide mask à la Zorro, she could barely make out his face. But his body was a work of art. Tall, lean, but well-muscled, all Zoe could think about was pressing herself against his chest and trying him on for size. A black cape completed the mysterious look.

“Having fun?” he asked, his question reminding her of his ordinal comment.

“Hardly. To tell you the truth, it would have taken a whip to get to me attend if I’d known it would be this bad,” she admitted.

“Time heals all wounds?” he asked in a teasing voice.

“Or sharpens all claws.”

“Interesting image coming from a woman wearing leather and studs,” he teased, his tone low and husky, almost as though he had a cold or was disguising it along with his face. He had a faint accent, giving his sexually charged words an extra dose of romance. She couldn’t tell from where, though.

But there was something familiar about him. Not surprising, given the circumstances, but still she wished she knew who he was. She eyed his cape and recalled the photographer’s comment. But, even though it’d been ten years, this guy just didn’t remind her of Brad.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Aragorn.”

She narrowed her eyes. Wasn’t that a Lord of the Rings character? She scanned the costume again and tried to remember the movie. Unlike some of her friends, she hadn’t read the books. Instead, she’d gone to see the hot, sexy hunk hero and that cute blond elf guy. She regretted not paying more attention to the names, but with all that eye candy, she’d been distracted.

“How about your real name?” she invited.

“Nah. It’s a costume party. Go with the mystery.”

Zoe debated. He could be Brad under that mask. Better yet, he could be Gandalf. Or was she just justifying her need to spend some time with a guy who got her thinking naked thoughts with just a few words?

“How about a break?” he suggested. “Catch your breath before you head back in to whip butts and make them beg.”

He gave a charming, one-sided grin in response to her snort of laughter, then gestured to the path leading toward the rose arbor. “Maybe a walk in the moonlight?”

When he gestured, his cape fell back. She could clearly see the outline of his chest and shoulders beneath the soft flowing fabric of his shirt. Her breath caught. The sculpted muscles beneath the white cotton owed nothing to the costume and everything to Mother Nature. Broad shoulders, solid pecs and biceps that made her mouth water.

Sexy. Zoe swallowed hard, her body already aware, went on hyperalert. Her breasts swelled, nipples pressed arousingly against their leather restraints.

“A walk sounds tempting,” she breathed, tucking her hand in his elbow. God, what could be more romantic? A moonlit walk in the gardens beside a gorgeous guy with a really big sword who got her hot with just the sound of his voice.

She slid him a sideways glance, but even close-up she couldn’t make out his features. Between the dark night and the wide black mask wrapped around his upper face and tied behind his head like a bandana, all she could tell was that his hair was slicked back. Short? A wig? The way the mask was tied made it hard to tell.

Who was he? If he was Brad, he’d have said something, wouldn’t he? But Brad was the only guy at Central High ever to really notice her. She tried to remember if he’d been this lean. Granted, it’d been ten years, but she’d remembered him as having more of a ballplayer build than a runner’s physique.

They stepped off the patio and into the open garden. The cold evening air hit her almost-naked body. Zoe grimaced and instinctively stepped closer to the man’s warmth.

So much for romance. She’d forgotten she was dressed up as the menacing man-eater.

“Here,” he said shifting his cape.

She caught her breath, wondering if he meant to pull her under it with him. But he didn’t. Instead he released the collar and swung it off, then wrapped it carefully around her shoulders.

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

“You looked uncomfortable.”

“I forgot how chilly it could get,” she said.

“I meant in there,” he said, gesturing toward the curtained windows of the ballroom. The noise was blunted out here, but they could still hear the occasional loud laugh, screech or drum roll.

“I forgot what it was like. Feeling like such an outsider,” she murmured. “I didn’t quite expect …”

“Were they rude?” His words were simple enough, but the anger underlying them made Zoe shake off her pity party and stare up at him. Now that he’d pulled off the cloak she could see the wide strength of his shoulders. But it was the set of his jaw that caught her attention. Stiff with anger, for all his calm words he looked like he might go back in there and … what? Give them a one-two-kapow?

Zoe snickered at her imagination. Then she realized she’d given too much energy to the responses in the ballroom. She hadn’t cared what those people thought ten years ago, why should she now?

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