Page 526 of Summer Heat
And he thanked the stars or God or whoever it was that had arranged this moment. High above the earth on a clear mountain night, with this woman pressed so close against him, he felt an odd sense of peace. Of disconnectedness to anything but her.
The wheel jerked again, harder, and with a quick, stomach-wrenching movement, they sailed upward, maybe two positions. Then another. The car swung slightly, almost at the top. The wheel ground noisily, and Lance could see a crowd gathering, far below. He frowned when he realized the operator was unloading riders, rather than loading them on.
“What’s happening?” Tamara asked in a faint voice. Her face was pressed tightly into his shoulder.
“We just have to get to the bottom and we’ll get off.” The worst that could happen was that the wheel would freeze. It wasn’t as if the cars would come loose or anything of that nature. He was comforted by the fact that they were on the way down.
Even if it was a long, long way yet.
A shout came from below, and the wheel made a long, extremely loud grating noise. It moved one inch, maybe two. And stopped.
By the cursing below, Lance knew they were in for a wait. He
doubted it was anything serious, but he also doubted Tamara would take that news in stride.
She lifted her head. “We’re stuck, aren’t we?”
“’Fraid so.”
Her face was white. “I hope I don’t have to be sick.”
“You won’t,” he said, and gently pulled her back into his arms. He stroked her back, and her arms, and felt her trembling begin to ease. Her breast pushed into his side, infinitely plump and soft, and Lance fought an image of her naked and pressed against him this way. His unruly member leapt to attention at the thought, and he shifted slightly to accommodate it.
To distract himself—and her—he said, “So tell me about the last book you read.”
“The last book?” she echoed nervously. “Uh… Accounting Procedures.”
“No, not for school. For fun.” Under his arms, she was rigid as a rock. “Surely you’ve read something interesting recently.”
She peeked over the edge. Her fingers dug almost painfully into his thigh.
“Don’t look down, sweetheart,” he said. “Look at me. Let’s just talk. They’ll get us out of here safe and sound.”
With clear effort, she dragged her gaze upward, and focused on his face. “Why do I torture myself with high rides like this when I know heights make me sick?”
He grinned. “You’re a daredevil at heart?”
A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “That must be it.”
Up close like this, her beautiful eyes full of fear and bravery in equal measures, with her thigh next to his, and her warm body nestled against his, she was more than any man with a lick of sense could resist. “So, what was the last book?”
A frown wrinkled her brow for a moment. “Let’s see…it must have been Alice Hoffman. It was a wolf story—I’ve been on a magical realism kick.”
He smiled. “That fits.”
“Oh?” She narrowed her eyes. “How so?”
“You’re a very practical woman, but I see that wish in you for things to be magical.”
“Are you a fan of those kinds of books?”
“Me? Not really.” He lifted a shoulder. “I don’t have time to do a lot of reading, but I usually go for suspense or horror when I do.”
“Stephen King kinds of things?”
“Sometimes. He has great characters, but Dean Koontz has better romance.”
She gave him an impish grin. “You like a little romance with your gore?”
