Something Different/Pepper's Way by Kay Hooper Page A

by now heartily cursing the binding, uncomfortable corset. She was also beginning to wonder how on earth she was going to get out of the thing; she’d never been very good with knots. And along the same lines was her dress; the tiny hooks and eyes had been nearly impossible to fasten, and she wasn’t at all sure that she could
un
fasten them without tearing the rented costume.
    A solution occurred to her, and Gypsy considered it idly. Dangerous. Definitely dangerous. Playing with fire for sure. She wondered why she wasn’t at all concerned any longer about burning her fingers. It might have had something to do with the kiss Chase had bestowed during the unmasking at the party. It had been a definitely fiery kiss—a first cousin to Vesuvius. Her lips were still tingling.
    And after that… why worry about burning her fingers?
    Chase parked the Mercedes in his driveway, and they walked across to Gypsy’s door. She located her key in the string purse dangling from her wrist, and Chase unlocked the door.
    “Is the evening over, or are you going to ask me in?” he inquired politely.
    “The evening is young. Besides, I have a favor to ask. Come in, please.”
    “A favor?” Chase followed her into the dimly lighted den, his cloak and mask landing beside Gypsy’s on one of the chairs. “Your wish is, of course, my command.”
    “I’m so glad. It’s a… delicate favor.”
    “So much the better.” Just as she turned to face him he caught her in his arms. A faint, lazy smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Gentlemanly courtesy aside, though, I’m afraid I have other things on my mind right now.”
    “Chase—”
    He kissed her, and Gypsy promptly forgot all about the favor. She might have been vague, but she wasn’t stupid; what woman would pass up an opportunity to revisit Vesuvius? She felt his hands lifting, the fingers threading through her black curls, and her own arms lifted to slide round his waist. His lips toyed with hers for a brief moment; gentle, sensitive. And then he abruptly accepted the unconscious invitation of her parting lips, deepening the kiss in a sudden surge of curiously yearning hunger.
    Gypsy abandoned herself to sensation. A part of her stood back and watched, both disturbed and fascinated by the woman who gave herself up totally to addictive sensations. She felt one of his hands move to caress the side of her neck lightly, his thumb rhythmically brushing her jawline; his free hand slid slowly down her back, over bare flesh that tingled at the touch. The warmth of his mouth seduced, impelled, made her forget everything except the need to have more of this….
    The phone rang.
    Gypsy wanted to ignore it. She
tried
to ignore it. But it was ringing persistently, and finally Chase raised his head with a groan.
    “Oh, Lord! And we were doing so well too!”
    She stared up at him, dazed, for a long moment, then firmly got a grip on herself. A warlock. He was definitely a warlock. She moved toward the phone as he reluctantly released her. Clearing her throat as she lifted the receiver, Gypsy managed a weak “Hello?”
    “You’ve been out!” a wounded male voice accused sadly.
    Gypsy slammed the phone down so hard and fast that she nearly caught her fingers beneath it. “Oh, God…” she whispered to herself, appalled. A stranger? Some nut had been calling her, and she’d—
    “Who was that?” Chase had come up behind her and began to nuzzle the side of her neck.
    “Uh… wrong number.” She was glad he couldn’t see her face; it probably scaled the limits of human shock.
    He chuckled softly. “You obviously have no patience with wrong numbers; somebody’s ears are still ringing.”
    Apparently not; the phone began ringing again.
    Gypsy didn’t move, she just stared at it silently.
    “Persistent devil.” Chase made a move toward the phone. “Want me to … ?”
    “No!” Hastily Gypsy picked up the receiver, trying to ignore Chase’s startled look. “Hello?”
    “Darling,