She looked down at herself. “Why?”
“I just want to know. Are you?”
“Can you see anything?” she asked, returning to the bedroom to examine herself in the mirror.
Dane followed. “Damn it, Marlie, are you wearing a bra or aren’t you?”
“Do I need one?”
“I’ll find out for myself,” he said in frustration, reaching for her.
She slipped away, giving him a roguish smile. “Down, boy. You’ll have to wait until later to find out. We’re going to be late if we don’t leave right now.”
“I haven’t seen that outfit before,” he said as he followed her out the door.
“It’s new. I bought it this week.”
He studied her back, trying to decide if he could make out the outline of a bra beneath the white vest that bared a disconcerting amount of her. It wasn’t that it was indecent, just that he wasn’t used to seeing her dress like that. He liked the hell out of it, but he didn’t want anyone else to appreciate the view.
Trammell’s house was large and airy, with sleek furnishings in light, soft colors that opened up the rooms even more. His taste, Marlie admitted, was wonderful. There was a sense of space, serenity, and coolness, enhanced by lush indoor plants and overhead fans gently stirring the air.
Dinner was relaxed, with a lot of joking and teasing. Marlie asked Trammell when Dane’s house would be finished, and he lied without turning a hair. More delays, he said solemnly.
Grace told Marlie all about the wedding plans she was making, and how lucky it was that they had planned on a long engagement because she would need all the time to plan a large, formal wedding. Trammell broke out in a slight sweat as he listened to the discussion, but the look of wild panic was gone; he was adjusting to the idea of marriage in connection with himself.
A series of thunderstorms, normal during the hot summer nights, popped up and entertained them with dramatic flashes of lightning and booms of thunder. After dinner, Trammell took several photographs of them all, and that led him into showing the thick albums of shots he had taken over the years.
Dane figured prominently in a good many of them, and Marlie studied his face with interest. He looked different, somehow, in the stark black-and-white photos Trammell had taken. Seeing her interest, Trammell settled beside her to tell her all about every shot.
It was earlier than usual when Marilyn Elrod arrived home, but the passing storms had knocked out the electricity at the bar, and the patrons had been politely but firmly invited to leave. She was also tipsier than usual, and when the garage door didn’t lift, she pressed the button on the opener again. Still nothing happened.
“Damn it,” she muttered, pointing the opener directly at the doors and holding her thumb on the button. Nothing. She threw it onto the car seat beside her. “Stupid batteries.”
She tottered in her high heels up the walk to the front door, then stood weaving as she tried to remember the code for the security alarm. She only had a few seconds after unlocking the door, she didn’t remember how long, to punch in the code and prevent the alarm from sounding. She hated that damn alarm, so shrill it hurt her eardrums. The security system had been James’s idea, not hers. Men and their gadgets.
It took her a minute to notice that the little red light above the lock wasn’t shining. Damn, was everything in the house malfunctioning?
Then she laughed softly to herself. Of course! The electricity was off here, too. She should have noticed how dark the neighborhood was.
She fumbled the key into the lock and opened it, stumbling a bit over the threshold as she went inside. Damn, it was dark as a tomb! How was she supposed to see?
Candles, she thought. She had candles. She had bought an assortment of incense candles, thinking of the sexy atmosphere they would make when she brought a lover home. There hadn’t been any lovers yet, but she was prepared just in case. James had probably had some flashlights around, but she didn’t know where they were. It was likely he had taken them with him, the bastard. He wouldn’t want his little dolly to be caught in the dark.
But where had she put them? The kitchen? That didn’t seem like the right place to put incense candles.
On the other hand, that’s where the matches were, and maybe she had put them there. She slipped out of her heels as she felt her way through the dark house to the kitchen. She found the matches first and struck one, relieved by the small flare of light. Three of them burned down before she located the incense candles.
She lit one immediately, to give herself light. Well, this was a fine end to a boring evening, she thought in disgust. She might as well go to bed, since she couldn’t even watch television.
She carried the sack of candles in one hand and the lighted candle in the other as she went upstairs, only stumbling once. “Oops,” she whispered. “Have to be careful. I’m carrying fire.” The thought made her giggle.
In her bedroom, which she had changed completely after James had left—she had burned all the sheets the bastard had slept on—she lit the candles one by one and set them on her dresser, so she could see the effect when they were reflected in the mirror. Yeah, she thought. Pretty damn sexy. The thick aroma of incense rose, and she coughed a little. Maybe she should go for unscented candles.
She began to undress, leaving her clothes were they fell. The incense grew stronger, and she coughed again.
She halted, her head tilted a little to the side. Had she heard something? She waited, but the house remained silent. Too silent, she thought. Yeah, that was the problem. She was accustomed to hearing the quiet hum of the refrigerator, the clocks, the ceiling fans. Without them, she was too aware of the sounds outside.