the shoulder on the way.
“Damn it, Nick, let me go!” Maggy said in a furious undertone as they reached the dance floor and he turned to face her, his hand still imprisoning hers. Conscious of the other dancing couples, some of whom were watching, Maggy kept a smile glued to her lips. Though she had no doubt that it did not fool Nick, who was more accustomed than most to reading the danger signals in her eyes.
“Don’t swear, Magdalena,” he chided her on a tender note just as the pianist began a new song. Then he pulled her into his arms.
“ ‘Hey, where did we go days when the rain came …’ ” Nick sang the words softly in her ear as Maggy subsided against him in shock. “ ‘Laughin’ in the hollows …’ ”
She hadn’t listened to that song in years. Twelve years,to be precise. On the few occasions when she had been in a car and it had been aired with a selection of oldies, she’d asked that the radio be switched off. It had been too painful to listen to, because it brought back so many memories. Wonderful memories. Heartbreaking memories. And he knew it. Damn him, he knew it, and he was deliberately having it played so that she would remember things he knew she’d rather forget.
Nick had always loved that song, because he’d said it made him think of her. Magdalena’s song, he’d called it, just as he had once called her “My Brown-Eyed Girl.”
“ ‘Do you remember when we used to sing sha-la-la-la-la …’ ” Nick’s arms were wrapped around her waist, holding her close against his body. Her arms were looped around his neck. The song had shocked her so that she hadn’t even realized what she was doing until she was plastered against him, dancing like a want-wit in his arms. Now it was too late. To pull away from him would, she feared, cause more comment than finishing out the dance, especially if he wouldn’t easily let her go. Which, knowing Nick, he wouldn’t.
Maggy tried to put a modicum of space between their bodies, and realized he wasn’t going to let her do even that. Turning her head, she rewarded him with a furious glare, to which he responded with a twinkle and a naughty smile. No shame there. Maggy resigned herself to the dance. If only, she prayed, Lyle stayed at the far end of the room.
Nick had never been a great dancer—his forte was a standard box step—but then, he’d never needed to be. The thrill in dancing with Nick came from having his arms around her, feeling the hardness of his chest pressing against her breasts, feeling the brush of his thighs against her own as he moved her with him. When they were kids, all the girls had wanted to dance with Nick. He had usually obliged them, too, until the last few monthsthey’d been together. Then she’d been the only one.…
“ ‘You, my brown-eyed girl …’ ” Nick sang the words into her ear, pulling her even closer as he did so and executing a less-than-graceful turn. “My brown-eyed girl.”
Despite the best will in the world to do so, Maggy couldn’t prevent the memories from washing over her. She’d taken him to her junior prom, at Manual High School. They’d sneaked in, because the twenty-five-dollars-a-person cost of a ticket had been as out of reach for them as the price of the Hope diamond. She was sixteen, he was eighteen. She wore a white dress with a tulle skirt and a silver flower in her hair, both courtesy of Nick’s skill as a thief. He wore a tuxedo that he’d borrowed from a friend who ran a funeral parlor. In it he was so handsome that just looking at him had made her heart speed up. When he took her in his arms, he had made her shake—and this was while he was still treating her like a well-loved but sexless little sister. As far as she knew, he’d remained oblivious of her mad crush on him until that night.
It had been a magical night. He had even kissed her good night. The chaste peck on her lips had kept her dreaming of him for months of nights.
“Remember your
“Damn it, Nick, let me go!” Maggy said in a furious undertone as they reached the dance floor and he turned to face her, his hand still imprisoning hers. Conscious of the other dancing couples, some of whom were watching, Maggy kept a smile glued to her lips. Though she had no doubt that it did not fool Nick, who was more accustomed than most to reading the danger signals in her eyes.
“Don’t swear, Magdalena,” he chided her on a tender note just as the pianist began a new song. Then he pulled her into his arms.
“ ‘Hey, where did we go days when the rain came …’ ” Nick sang the words softly in her ear as Maggy subsided against him in shock. “ ‘Laughin’ in the hollows …’ ”
She hadn’t listened to that song in years. Twelve years,to be precise. On the few occasions when she had been in a car and it had been aired with a selection of oldies, she’d asked that the radio be switched off. It had been too painful to listen to, because it brought back so many memories. Wonderful memories. Heartbreaking memories. And he knew it. Damn him, he knew it, and he was deliberately having it played so that she would remember things he knew she’d rather forget.
Nick had always loved that song, because he’d said it made him think of her. Magdalena’s song, he’d called it, just as he had once called her “My Brown-Eyed Girl.”
“ ‘Do you remember when we used to sing sha-la-la-la-la …’ ” Nick’s arms were wrapped around her waist, holding her close against his body. Her arms were looped around his neck. The song had shocked her so that she hadn’t even realized what she was doing until she was plastered against him, dancing like a want-wit in his arms. Now it was too late. To pull away from him would, she feared, cause more comment than finishing out the dance, especially if he wouldn’t easily let her go. Which, knowing Nick, he wouldn’t.
Maggy tried to put a modicum of space between their bodies, and realized he wasn’t going to let her do even that. Turning her head, she rewarded him with a furious glare, to which he responded with a twinkle and a naughty smile. No shame there. Maggy resigned herself to the dance. If only, she prayed, Lyle stayed at the far end of the room.
Nick had never been a great dancer—his forte was a standard box step—but then, he’d never needed to be. The thrill in dancing with Nick came from having his arms around her, feeling the hardness of his chest pressing against her breasts, feeling the brush of his thighs against her own as he moved her with him. When they were kids, all the girls had wanted to dance with Nick. He had usually obliged them, too, until the last few monthsthey’d been together. Then she’d been the only one.…
“ ‘You, my brown-eyed girl …’ ” Nick sang the words into her ear, pulling her even closer as he did so and executing a less-than-graceful turn. “My brown-eyed girl.”
Despite the best will in the world to do so, Maggy couldn’t prevent the memories from washing over her. She’d taken him to her junior prom, at Manual High School. They’d sneaked in, because the twenty-five-dollars-a-person cost of a ticket had been as out of reach for them as the price of the Hope diamond. She was sixteen, he was eighteen. She wore a white dress with a tulle skirt and a silver flower in her hair, both courtesy of Nick’s skill as a thief. He wore a tuxedo that he’d borrowed from a friend who ran a funeral parlor. In it he was so handsome that just looking at him had made her heart speed up. When he took her in his arms, he had made her shake—and this was while he was still treating her like a well-loved but sexless little sister. As far as she knew, he’d remained oblivious of her mad crush on him until that night.
It had been a magical night. He had even kissed her good night. The chaste peck on her lips had kept her dreaming of him for months of nights.
“Remember your
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