Prom Night in Purgatory (Purgatory #2)(47)

“Yep. Think about it. Everything that’s pink is usually soft, pretty, and it tastes good.” Johnny’s voice was husky, and he drew his words out slowly. She knew he was flirting, that he had possibly used the line before, but it didn’t matter. His words made her hot inside, and she wished for a second that she was the kind of girl who would take what she wanted and to hell with the consequences. But she wasn’t. Life had taught her that consequences were ugly and painful, and seldom worth the pleasure they had been bartered for.

“It’s your turn.”

“Huh? Oh. Yellow,” she supplied. “Yellow is happy.”

“Put yellow and pink together, and it makes peach....soft, pretty, tastes really good, and makes you happy.”

“Perfect. Then we’re meant for each other.” She sighed and batted her eyes, and he laughed again.

It was his turn for a question. He asked her for her favorite movie. He’d just seen Hitchcock’s Vertigo and liked it - Maggie had no idea what to say. So she offered Rebel Without a Cause.

Johnny groaned. “All the girls say that. James Dean isn’t really that good looking, is he?

“I think he looks a little like you,” Maggie grinned.

“Well, then. I guess he is pretty irresistible.”

“I guess so,” Maggie snickered.

Favorite song? Johnny liked too many to decide. Maggie scrambled to claim a favorite from his decade and blurted out “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.”

Johnny shook his head. “I don’t know that one. Kinda funny title. Sing a little for me, and maybe I’ll recognize it.”

“It’s an oldie, but it’s probably still the best love song I’ve ever heard.” Maggie grimaced. She didn’t know when that song actually came out. She shouldn’t have said it was an oldie. She tried to change the subject.

“I can’t sing it to you because I sing like a frog. I’m a dancer, not a singer.”

Johnny got a speculative look on his face and without warning, he loped back up the hilly incline to the car. He started it up and flipped on the lights and within seconds Ray Charles was groaning out “A Fool For You,” the gritty longing pouring out of the windows and touching her like a caress. Shutting the doors, Johnny walked back down the hill, and just liked he’d done earlier in the evening, he held out a hand to Maggie.

“You only got to dance to two songs before the heat caught up to you.” Johnny’s lips turned up at the mention of ‘heat.’ “Would you like to dance?”

Maggie slid into his arms like she had never left, and he immediately spun her out again, and then pulled her close, locking her up tight against him. Maggie caught her breath. The song was sexy and sinuous, and Maggie closed her eyes and moved with him. Freed from the confines of a crowded gymnasium, neither of them seemed willing to maintain a respectful distance. But in spite of their proximity, the music was not an excuse to simply hold one another, and they danced, gliding around the hard-packed beach with the car lights creating a spotlight that blotted out the rest of the universe.

One song led to another. “In the Still of the Night,” “You Send Me,” “Stardust,” and “Mona Lisa” echoed out across the glassy water. Maggie was grateful for the melancholy radio announcer spinning out love song after love song, mournful ballad after mournful ballad, giving them words when it was too soon to speak them.

“And here’s to all the young lovers, wherever you are - so many people have sung this one...but I like the way Frank sings it best. Here’s ‘Where or When.’”



The opening bars of a song Maggie had never heard before rang out and wrapped around them in silky persuasion.



It seems we stood and talked like this before

We looked at each other in the same way then,

The clothes you’re wearing are the clothes you wore

The smile you’re smiling you smiled then

But I can’t remember when.



Some things that happen for the first time

Seem to be happening again

And so it seems that we have met before

And laughed before

And loved before

But who knows where or when





Maggie tipped her head up to look at Johnny. He didn’t break his gaze as his legs moved against hers, her skirts wrapping around him as they danced. His arm was firm on her waist, her hand tucked against his chest, his eyes on hers. The last notes rang across the distance, and Johnny dipped Maggie so low that her hair brushed the beach before he swung her back up against him.

The lights on the car flickered once and faded sickly. The climactic final note still echoed in her head, but no more music filled the air. Johnny stepped back slightly and dropped his hands to hers. The lights from the car no longer illuminated the dark, but Maggie could still see Johnny’s face, though it was shadowed. He had an inscrutable expression in his eyes, like he was fighting an inner battle of sorts. Maggie stared, not willing to step away, but afraid to step forward. It could be too soon, but it might be all they had.

And then he closed the space and his mouth was poised above hers. His breath fanned against her face, tangling with her own in a heady mix of anticipation and desire. His hands released hers, sliding up the smooth skin of her arms, up her shoulders to cradle her face in his fingertips. He lifted her chin slightly and touched his lips to hers, leaving the barest whisper between their mouths.