Shane gave her a sidelong look. "Why? You planning on watching the movie?"
She laughed. He tickled her. She shrieked and ran on ahead, but he caught her and tackled her down to the grass of the park on the corner, and for a couple of seconds she kept laughing and struggling, but then he kissed her, and the sensation of his warm, soft lips moving on hers took all the fight right out of her. It felt wonderful, lying here on the grass, with the sun shining on them, and for a few minutes she was floating in a soft, warm cloud of delight, as if nothing in the world could ever ruin this feeling.
Until a police siren let out a sharp burst of noise, and Shane yelped and rolled off of her and up to his feet, ready for . . . what? Fighting? He knew better. Besides, as Claire struggled up to her elbows, she saw that the police car that had pulled up to the curb was--once again--Chief Hannah Moses. She was laughing, her teeth very white against her dark skin.
"Relax, Shane; I just didn't want you scaring the little old ladies," Hannah said. "I'm not hauling you in. Unless you've got something to confess."
"Hey, Chief. Didn't know kissing was against the code."
"There's probably something about public displays of affection, but I'm not so much bothered by that." She pointed at the western horizon, where the sun was brushing the edge. "Time to be getting home."
Shane looked where she pointed, and nodded, suddenly sobered. "Thanks. Lost track of time."
"Well, I can see how." She waved and pulled away, off to deliver helpful encouragement to other wandering potential victims. It was different from the way Monica's brother, Richard Morrell, used to do things, and before him the old police chief, but Claire kind of liked it. It seemed . . . more caring.
Shane held out his hand and pulled her to her feet, and helped her dust the grass off, which was mainly just an excuse to be handsy. Which she didn't mind at all. "Did you see my ninja move? That was fast, right?"
"You are not a ninja, Shane."
"I've watched all the movies. I just haven't gotten the certificate from the correspondence course yet."
She smiled; she couldn't help it. Her lips were still tingling, and she wanted him to kiss her again, but Hannah was right--sundown was a bad time to make out in public. "I've thought about the drive-in."
"And?"
She fell in beside him as they walked toward home. "I don't care what's playing after all."
His eyebrows rose. "Sweet."
Michael wasn't home when they got there, but Eve was, buzzing around upstairs. Claire could immediately tell, because either it was Eve in those shoes, or the hoof beats of a small pony. Not that Eve was large; she just . . . clomped. It was the big, heavy boots.
"It's chili-dog night," Shane said. "How many?"
"Two," Claire said.
"Really? That's a lot for you."
"I'm celebrating the fact that you didn't fry out your brain being stupid."
He crossed his eyes and let his tongue loll, which was disgusting and funny, and smacked the side of his head to put everything back right again. "Jury's still out on that one. Two chili dogs, coming up."
"Hey!" Claire called after him, as she leaned her backpack against the wall. "No onions!"
"Your loss!"
"I meant for you! Not if you want to get kissed tonight!"
"Damn, girl. Harsh."
She grinned and ran up the stairs, intending to use the bathroom--but Eve was breathlessly rushing toward it. "Wait, wait, wait!" she squeaked. "I have to finish my makeup! Please?"
Claire blinked. The outfit, even for Eve, was a little much . . . a skintight black minidress with all kinds of lacing and buckles, fishnet hose, and big plaid boots with two-inch-thick soles that came up to her knees. "Sure," she said. "Uh--where are you going?" "Cory--you know, the girl from the UC coffee bar, the one who isn't a butthead?--she's going to this rave thing, and I promised her I'd go with, just so she doesn't feel so weird. She's not much of a partyer. It'll be an early night, but I promised her I'd be ready by seven--"
"She's picking you up?"
"Yeah. Why? You need the car?"
"If you're not using it."
"Knock yourself out--just please let me have the bathroom!"
Claire sighed. "Go ahead. And thanks. Oh, and be careful?"
"Please. I am the queen of careful. Also, princess of punk fabulousness."
She was probably right about that last part, anyway. Claire continued on down the hall to her room, closed and locked the door, and opened up her dresser to go through her choices for underwear. She wanted something pretty. Something . . . special.
In the back of the drawer, neatly folded, was a bra-and-panties set that Eve had bought her for her birthday--way too revealing, Claire had thought, since it was mostly net and little pink roses. But . . . cute. Very cute. Eve had handed it to her and whispered, "Don't open it in front of the guys. Trust me. You'll blush." And she had saved it to open in private, and stuck it in the back of a drawer, although she'd been delighted. It was like a sexy little secret she hadn't known if she'd ever actually be brave enough to share.
Now she took a deep breath, stripped off her jeans and top and plain underwear, and put on the new bra and panties. They fit--not that she expected anything else from Eve, who had an eye for that kind of thing. She was afraid to look, but Claire made herself walk over to the mirror on the back of the door.
After the blinding shock of OMG, she tried to be objective and not cover herself up with a blanket. She looked . . . naked. Well, almost. But . . . the longer she looked at it, the better she liked it. It made her tingle, just a little. What really made her tingle was the idea of what Shane would say when he saw her like this.