Story disclaimers are all in Chapter 1.


Chapter 12: This Will Be Our Year

Ranger opened the car door and paused, holding out his arm to help her exit. And for about the hundredth time in the past hour, her breath stopped as she gazed at him.

Oh, she'd known Ranger for a few years and was used to his drop-dead, lethal handsomeness. But she wasn't quite used to having said handsomeness doting on her. Which led to her, yet again, discreetly poking herself just to make sure this all was real. And, boy, she was going to have a hard time explaining the map of teeny bruises she was probably developing as a result.

"Babe?" he said, bringing her attention back to the moment. And, yes, back to his toned, muscular form that so nicely filled out his fitted, charcoal gray suit. Yum! And how had she not noticed his garment bag— yup, black— hanging on the coat hooks by the front door the whole time they'd been in the condo this afternoon? Or his kit bag— yup, black— on the bathroom counter when she'd taken a momentary bio break?

Oh yeah; she'd been distracted by the man, himself. Thoroughly, dizzyingly, down-to-her-toes distracted. Just like right now, she had to admit as her eyes traveled up to his amused gaze.

"Just admiring the scenery," she confessed with a pixie grin that was quickly met with Ranger's satisfied expression.

As his gaze detoured along her seated form, she realized that it had been a long time since she'd gotten out of a car in a short dress and heels. At least, when a man was watching. A man whose opinion mattered. A man whose every gesture was as agile as it was efficient.

Of course, since this particular man was always ready for anything, probably he'd be as appreciative of a graceful exit as he would if she simply cannonballed out of his vehicle, purse straps hooking the unfastened seat belt and dumping its belongings behind her. Which may have happened exactly like that at some point when heading to a dinner with Dickie Orr's boss. Maybe.

Ranger, though, would simply make sure she was okay, pick the pebbles and crushed shells out of her hair with a sly remark or two, and then carry on as usual. It was good to know she had another option in case her elegant "getting out of the car maneuver" didn't quite go as planned.

With a Miss America smile, she shifted her weight, swiveled to the door as she'd learned so long ago, with her hands loosely marshalling her skirt to follow her legs. Then she stepped one foot out of the car door, toe first, followed by the other. Grasping Ranger's hand, she stood as though there had never been any doubt.

Ranger closed the door behind her and then, as her first few steps wobbled slightly on the uneven pavement, put his arm gently at her back and took her near hand with his far one. Walking suddenly became easier. And, okay, maybe the strappy heels she'd chosen weren't ideal for the shell and gravel surface of the parking lot, but they looked perfect with her dress. So they were still the right choice.

Especially since they had encouraged Ranger to walk snugly beside her in the intimate half-light of the early evening under the emerging stars. It was a Hallmark moment. The ocean lapped the beach on the far side of the restaurant to which they were headed. Overlaying that peaceful rhythm, muffled sounds of live music emanated from the restaurant.

As they turned down the path to the restaurant's entrance, she heard snatches of conversation and a stereo from the bar on the other side of the easement of palmettos and shrubs. She couldn't help but peek in that direction with an intake of breath.

"Ranger, do you remember?" She gazed at him. "It was just a week ago. I was sitting over there," she pointed across his body with her free hand toward the half-obscured bar. "I thought I saw you walking on this path to your car. I thought it couldn't be, but then you tracked me down the next day. It turned out that it was you, after all."

He nodded in affirmation, his arm tightening around her. "I thought I'd spotted you while I was still inside, finishing dinner." His mouth lifted in a secretive smile. "Then, when I got outside, I heard you laugh. I had no doubt, then, that it was you." His hand tapped her waist, where he held her. "And, once again, you'd handed me a mystery to solve."

"Me? I'm the opposite of a mystery," she objected with a snort. "You're the 'Man of Mystery'," she said with one-handed finger quotes. "I'm just a Jersey girl making it work in a crazy world."

"Stephanie, you have no idea," he finally said as they reached the restaurant door. Releasing her, he fingered a stray curl of hair that had drifted toward her cheek. "You're a mystery that never disappoints." His eyes caught hers, his pupils were dark pools that she could dive into. Darker and yet so much warmer than the night. "You don't even know how rare you are," he murmured.

She couldn't take her eyes from his, so close, just like his full lips. She shivered, though with a shawl over her shoulders she wasn't the least bit cold.

But then, the restaurant door opened next to them, and a group of laughing, chatting twenty-somethings came outside, bringing the sounds of voices and music with them. And also releasing the delicious aroma of roasted and baked food. Stephanie inhaled; there was no mistaking the delicate perfume of vanilla, sugar, pastry, and the deeper note to chocolate. Dessert was assured.

So of course, even over all of that sound, Stephanie's stomach rumble was unmistakable. She couldn't help the blush that rose to her cheeks as Ranger replied with an amused quirk of his lips.

"After you," he said, keeping the door open while motioning her inside.

Walking in, she scanned the restaurant's foyer. Above the currently vacant hostess desk, New Year banners and balloons festooned the amber-lit walls, joining garlands of holiday lights and pinned-up ornaments. The whole festive motif wove around the regular wall decorations, including artful collages of antique cutlery, the usual photos of famous visitors to the restaurant, ending in a large wood and gilt framed mirror off to the side.

Curious, she turned toward the mirror, which was old and spidered with delicate age crackles. It reminded her of Aunt Tootsie's entryway cabinet and matching mirror, which showcased her collection of fussy old clocks.

This mirror, though, gave her a view of herself, with Ranger standing attentively behind her. They looked like a couple from a magazine. Ranger in a suit always looked worthy of his own photo shoot in GQ magazine. Drool-worthy, in fact. This time, though, she saw her own appearance as a match to his impeccable bearing and it took her breath away.

She'd pinned her hair into an updo using a combination of clips and combs that looked intentional, as did the several corkscrews of hair that cascaded down alongside her face. Her crystal drop earrings— a birthday gift from her Grandma Mazur— dangled like fairy lights amidst her curls. They highlighted the elegant simplicity of her dress. It was black, a slim sheath with a generous neckline and a slightly cinched waist. Basically, it was the perfect dress, made even more perfect by having been on the Macy's sale rack during her shopping trip last week with Mary Lou.

She reached up to adjust the shawl that was starting to slip from her shoulders, when her charm bracelet— Ranger's Christmas gift— reflected in burnished gold in the foyer lighting. Who was this elegant woman who looked like Stephanie Plum?

"It's not an illusion, Steph," he spoke, his breath tickling her hair against her ear. "This is what I see whenever you're around," he added. She felt warmth spread from her center outward as she remembered him standing behind her, just like this, back at the condo as he'd helped her zip up the back of her dress. ("I'll help you, Babe, just so I can unzip you later.") And that was yet another reason why this was the perfect dress.

She began fanning herself, murmuring about how obviously she hadn't yet reacclimated to the relative warmth of Miami winters. Ranger's smug expression in the mirror was a big clue that he wasn't buying her excuse.

At that moment, a slim, dark woman approached the hostess station, moving like liquid femininity. Ranger stepped over, his low voice obscured by music that had picked up from the room on her left. Given her relationship history, Stephanie had to fight an almost overwhelming urge to storm over to Ranger and wrap her arm around his waist like a curly-haired boa constrictor, ensuring that both he and the obviously impressed hostess knew that he was with her. With Stephanie Plum: no other.

Taking a deep breath, she knew she had to trust Ranger. He was drop-dead handsome, he was a magnet for beautiful women— well really, for any woman with a pulse— and if she couldn't trust him there was no way a relationship between them would work. And she believed that she could put her faith in him; a feeling that was reinforced when he paused for a lingering glance her way, half turned away from the counter.

And, holy cow, was that a wink? Okay, probably it was a trick of the blinking garland lights. And, probably he was making sure she hadn't bolted or been abducted by monkey grinders. Nevertheless, it showed that he was aware of her, that he thought of her even when talking with another woman. This was something she could get used to, though it might take a little time for her to adjust.

Making a commitment to remain in place as a token of her trust, she figured it was still okay to take a few steps to peek through the swinging doors from where a live band was playing. Her eyes were drawn to a quartet on a small stage: a singer, pianist, bass guitarist, and maybe a violinist, all decked out in '30s style outfits. The music was danceable, though she swore they were playing a pop song, simply slower and more melodically than usual. And, not as loudly as she'd expect if they were in New Jersey.

A few couples were dancing on the central area of the floor, which had been cleared of tables. One couple was at least as old as her parents; the others were closer to her age. They weren't going to win any dance competitions, but they looked like they were having fun. A couple of "Happy New Year's" hats were visible, along with sashes and beaded necklaces with the year on them. She glanced at Ranger, wondering if he'd mind trying a dance or two after dinner. She definitely wouldn't mention hats or other festive wear.

"Of course, Mr. Manoso," the hostess spoke in the relative quiet. "Your table is ready in the back room with a view of the beach, just as you requested. Just follow me." She gathered a set of leather-bound menus while Ranger turned toward Stephanie, his arm extended.

"You ready?" he asked, his baritone voice like a feather moving slowly along the small hairs of her arms.

So ready….

"Oh yeah," she answered, closing the gap between them to place her hand in his larger palm.

"Let's go," he said with a nod to the hostess. With a glance over her shoulder, the woman made sure they were following before swaying down a hallway that Stephanie hadn't spotted before. They continued through one room, with Ranger darting subtle glances in a scanning pattern that she recognized. Then they turned into another, more intimate room with large windows, all facing the waterfront.

"Wow," Stephanie breathed. The room must be right up against the beach. Though it was now fully nighttime, she could see the crescent moon and the early stars reflected on the lapping water beyond the shoreline. She could hear the quiet plashing of wavelets through one partly open window, even over the sounds of diners in the next room.

They walked past three tables, stopping at the fourth at the far end of the room. "Here you are Mr. Manoso," the hostess said as she put down their menus, one per place setting. "Ellis, here, will be your waiter tonight. I hope you enjoy your dinner."

Before the hostess finished speaking, the waiter had already approached the table. A slim man in a vest, with curly brown hair and a close-clipped beard, the waiter greeted them. "Sir. Ma'am," he murmured as he ushered them through the ritual of seating, water pouring, napkin fluffing, and specials of the day. When they got to the question of cocktails before dinner, Stephanie knew that her stomach had again registered its opinion when Ranger hastened to order an extra-large appetizer platter along with a large bottle of sparkling water as a starter.

"Thank you," Stephanie said, taking a sip of water. "You know what I want, even without asking."

"I've seen you have appetizers instead of a meal, so I know that's acceptable in the Stephanie Plum food pyramid," he said with a wry twist to his eyebrow. "I've also seen you have drinks on an empty stomach."

"So, what you're saying is that I'm an easy date?" She peeked at him over the rim of her water glass before putting it down.

"Far from it," he replied, gazing directly into her eyes. "I assure you, Stephanie, you're as charmingly and unpredictably complex when inebriated as when sober." His eyebrow canted upward as he added, "You do, though, tend to fall asleep a lot faster without food. I figure the chances of you enjoying dinner tonight improve substantially with the addition of appetizers."

While she laughed, Ellis the waiter set a pair of goblets on the table. With a twirl of the wrist and flourish of towel as though it were a fine beverage, he filled each glass with sparkling water. He then placed the bottle on the table, with an announcement that their appetizers were on their way.

After thanking the man, Ranger picked up his goblet and held it toward her. "To you, Babe. And the start of your new year," he toasted. His eyes were dark in the restaurant's intimate lighting. His amused lips were relaxed, inviting. The music from the main dining room was sweet and slow.

She raised her own glass. "Thank you," she replied, and then she inhaled away the almost shy feeling that tickled inside her, knowing how much this capable and always so very busy man had contributed to the start of her new adventure. With a smile she offered her own toast. "And to you, Ranger, and all of your help." she replied.

He saluted his glass toward hers without touching, exactly the way that Vogue article last holiday season had asserted was uber-classy. Since Ranger was a hands-down manly man with two guns and a knife— because, yes, of course she'd noticed the gun holster under his jacket and the slightly pouched drape at the small of his back and also the base of his ankle— she was sure that didn't read Vogue for classy dating tips. All of which meant that she now had proof that the article had been spot on. She couldn't wait to tell Mary Lou.

"Glad to help. Any time," he murmured, dispelling her distracted thoughts as he touched his goblet to his lips. After a brief sip, he added, "It means a lot to me that you chose to be here. Both tonight and in general." His eyes followed his hand as he put his water down on the table. He looked about to say something else when Ellis the waiter appeared with their appetizer platter, two plates, and special fork for each of them.

"Are you ready to order?" he asked, and then smiled gently when Ranger signaled that they weren't. "Take as long as you want. I'll check back in a bit." Ranger nodded, freeing the waiter to his other duties.

Meanwhile, she picked a few likely, yummy looking pieces from the appetizer platter, gathering them back to her own plate. And then, the first delicious bite of bacon-wrapped scallop burst against her taste buds. Followed by, moments later, a nibble of buffalo wing dipped in spicy sauce that sent her entire mouth into happy fireworks. She couldn't help but moan out loud. "These are good," she elaborated, cheeks rounded like a chipmunk as she readied herself for another bite.

"I could tell," he said with genuine pleasure infusing his voice. Then, he gestured to her menu. "Don't forget, there's more."

"You're spoiling me," she pretended to object while reaching for the menu. Scanning it, she thought she heard something like "that's the general idea" mumbled under Ranger's breath while she focused on scanning the menu. And, oh, there were several things she wanted. But wait… "Ranger, there aren't any prices," she frowned, blinking once to make sure she hadn't somehow missed them. "This is a fancy-shmancy place," she marveled, lowering the menu to look at him.

"No price, Babe," he smirked, and then effortlessly caught her tossed napkin mid-air. Handing it back to her, his expression now more serious, he explained, "I wanted to bring you someplace nice tonight" A brief smile played across his lips as his eyes caught hers. "The first time I was here, I thought of you. Even before I knew you were about a hundred yards away from where I was sitting."

"Well, it is nice. Priceless, even." she snickered at her own joke, seeing the gleam of humor in his eyes as well.

He reached across the table, lifting her fingers in his. Gazing at them rather than at her face, he said, "I'm a bit rusty at this dating part of my new lifestyle." His lips twitched. "According to my sisters, dates are more than hookups, which I already knew. But apparently dates are not nearly as similar to business meetings as I had imagined." At Stephanie's snort, he added, "My sisters have been coaching me. Or, to be honest, setting me up on a series of less than satisfying dates with their sorority sisters and acquaintances."

"Like when you were here last week?"

"Exactly," he agreed, eyebrows shrugging. "As a benefit, I know the nice restaurants in the Miami area, now. Beyond just those that are Cuban, that is." As though aware of what he'd just said, the band in the main room was now playing something with a decided Latin rhythm, though it was still a slow, danceable tune.

Stephanie turned her hand to wrap his palm. "I don't need nice restaurants, Ranger. Though I totally appreciate coming here tonight," she added in case he had any doubts. "But the fact that you made plans to be with me tonight is already special. That you chose someplace nice is above and beyond, like spun-sugar rosettes on the perfect cake."

While she spoke, her brows furrowed as she tried to remember the last time she'd been on a date at a restaurant. One that wasn't "let's meet the guys at Pinos," or "we'll get a nice dinner at the wedding reception." Or even, "have dinner with me, since it's after hours."

All of which she appreciated, but they weren't exactly write-in-your-diary date moments. Was her last, real date actually with Dickie Orr? She blinked a few times as though batting loose memories that had gone into hiding.

Ranger squeezed her hand, then released it to smooth his thumb along her knuckles. Oh, and who knew that knuckles could feel so sexy, all the way from her hands to… well, everywhere?

Of course Ranger knew because he was seduction distilled into male form.

"Steph," his low and earnest voice snared her attention. "You should, by all means, expect to be taken on dates and be treated as the special person you are. I should have taken you on an actual date long ago. So, I wanted to make sure to take you out tonight, instead of just staying in at your place, tempting though that was."

Thinking back, between his passion and her enthusiasm, she'd been surprised they'd managed to leave the condo for dinner. But now she understood why.

He'd paused momentarily, looking briefly into the distance, out the dining room's window toward the beach, before rendering himself again to her gaze. "I should have asked you to call me 'Carlos' long before now, too. It would be my pleasure if you would."

The very air seemed to glimmer around them as he finished speaking, though maybe it was just the prickle of moisture that was suddenly dampening her lashes.

When he seemed at loss for what to say next, she leaned forward. "Carlos," she said, his name melting in her mouth like a caramel covered chocolate truffle. "Thank you. I know that's a name you only give to people who you're close to, so it's a gift." In fact, it was the most precious gift he'd ever given her. That he'd bought the condo she liked was amazing, but he'd always bought or given her things before. This time, though, he'd said he wanted to try being in a real relationship. They were together on a date. And, he'd just given her the name that only his closest intimates used. After all these years. He was serious about this.

She resisted the urge to leap over the table and give him a hug. Her reticence was mostly because she suspected he'd find it too effusive, but also because she'd probably knock over the table and land them both on the floor amidst silverware and broken plates.

She'd make sure she had plenty of time to hug him later.

His deep brown eyes continued to watch her as though there was nothing else in the room. She squeezed his hand. "And, once again, you were right. Tonight is the perfect time for a first date. And so far, it is the perfect date."

"I'm glad," he replied, his simple words belying the deep emotions she could tell were enmeshed just behind his composed expression.

"Me, too," she replied as the hovering waiter appeared in her periphery.

Ranger apparently saw the man as well, since he leaned back, gently releasing her hand, and beckoned him over. Since Stephanie had figured out what she wanted— and hey, no price!— they both ordered. Ranger also requested a bottle of wine, at which point she renewed her amazement that he could select a wine by name, not by color or box size.

As the waiter nodded and stepped away, the music in the main dining room had changed, again. Now it had a country feel and a woman was singing something like "welcome to the future." Stephanie found herself swaying to the song.

"Do you think we could dance after dinner, Carlos?" she asked, still savoring his name on her tongue. Like she'd savor all of him with her tongue. For hours. The same he worshiped her. Oh my, she began fanning herself

"Of course," he replied smoothly, politely ignoring the sudden raging blush that had completely overtaken her cheeks. As she squirmed in her chair, his ever-curious eyebrow rose in question. full lips quirked.

"Everything all right there, Babe?"

"Oh yeah, just fine," she smiled brightly. And really, she was telling the truth. Mostly. And, thank heavens she was bailed out by Ellis the waiter, who chose that moment to arrive with the wine. While Stephanie took a moment to finish the appetizers on her plate, which actually was all of the appetizers remaining on the table at large, Ellis and Ranger did the whole ceremony of the wine cork and the first taste.

As the wine passed with flying colors, Ellis half-filled their wine glasses with the same classy twist-of-his-wrist maneuver he'd used for their water. At the same time, a similarly dressed, younger man slid beside Ellis to clear the appetizer accoutrements from the table and place wide salad bowls on top of their dinner plates. And then, when both men stepped away, both Stephanie and Ranger began to eat.

They took their time progressing through the three courses of the meal, with audible delight from Stephanie and measured nods of approval from Ranger. But, as Stephanie shared some of how she'd spent her last few days, it seemed like hardly any time had passed before they were almost through with the main course.

She was surprised there was so much to relate that she hadn't managed to cover during their night-time phone conversations. For example, there was yesterday's trip to the zoo with her nieces, when Mary Alice had announced that maybe she was a zebra rather than a horse. Important decisions like that might take time to decide, she informed Ranger who apparently didn't know about these things. He did agree with her, though, that it was a relief to avoid experiencing what might be months of her niece's back-and-forth equine experimentation in person.

And then, well, she hadn't wanted to mention it over the phone, but there was the almost ceremonial trip she'd taken with Grandma Mazur for a viewing at Last Journey funeral home in Ewing. It was a good thing her cousin Shirley-the-Whiner was there with her husband Eddie Gazzara— as she explained to Ranger, whose expression indicated that maybe he'd swallowed one of the lemons from his snapper— since Eddie had managed to keep all of their names off the police report.

While chatting, she'd also managed to find out how the giant SUV he'd used to pick her up from the airport had turned into the svelte Porsche 911 in which they'd driven to the restaurant. Instead of involving bippity-boppity-boo of pumpkins changing to carriages, the car swap apparently involved a couple of Miami Rangemen. And, though most Rangemen were like magic themselves, this time they'd simply driven to her condo and switched out cars in the short time before she and Ranger had left for dinner.

By the time they got the dessert, Stephanie's non-dessert stomach was pleasantly full. Fortunately there was room for the slice of Four Layer Chocolate Buttercream cake that she'd ordered as her dessert. It was a thin slice, but as she laced her fork through the frosting and then brought each bite to her lips she couldn't help humming deeply in appreciation. She spotted the couple who had been seated at the other end of their dining annex peek her way. She smiled, certain that they'd be doing the same thing by the time they got to the dessert course.

In fact, even Ranger had a languorous, half-lidded look as he brought measured spoonfuls of flan to his lips.

"You were so right," she said between bites. "This is a great restaurant. Even you like the dessert."

"Flan," he answered as though a single word explained it all. Probably noticing that she'd actually halted, fork in the air, while she pondered his answer, he elaborated. "I like the desserts I grew up with, like flan, turrones, and brazo gitano cake. I eat them a few times a year during holidays." He angled his spoon down for another dollop of flan.

"Ah," Stephanie said, finally bringing her forkful of cake to her mouth. While savoring it, she wondered what it would be like to have a dessert only a few times a year. Would each one taste any better? Inspecting the cake on her fork she found that hard to imagine. If so, she'd probably pass out after the first bite, so all that waiting would be wasted. But then, Ranger was different; he was feeding his temple, not his sugar and fat hormones. Reaching for her final bite, she blinked, noticing that Ranger had actually finished before her.

Then, finally done, she reached for her water to swish her mouth, having learned all about chocolate cake teeth in her middle school cafeteria. As Ranger watched, she leaned back in her chair, content like a cat basking in the sun. "And it's still the perfect date," she said.

A rare Ranger smile lit his handsome face, mixing pleasure and pride in a headying combination. "Your happiness is my goal," he replied. In anyone else, that might have seemed like a cheesy comment and she almost said that aloud. She could see, though, the commitment in his eyes as well as the effort he'd taken tonight. This had really mattered to him.

"Then I guess we should have more dates," she replied. "But, like I said before, I'm happy because we're here together." As she spoke, the band started a new song in the far dining room; without realizing it, she'd begun swaying in place.

With a satisfied look, he set his napkin on the table. "Would you like to join me for a dance?" His eyebrow rose in a speculative arc, as though he really was trying to figure out this whole dating thing. Which Stephanie didn't really believe, though his modesty about it was charming.

After a beat, he amended, "Or, would you prefer coffee first, or maybe tea?"

"Oh, gosh, let's dance," she replied, her own napkin landing on the table in a flourish. Dancing together was something new, something they'd never done in the times they'd known each other. And, honestly, something she'd fantasized about for a while.

He stood, held out his hand for her, and then turned to escort her to the dance floor. The gentle touch of his fingers along her back as they began walking tingled, and yet grounded her. The deep thrum she felt at being next to him as they walked was practically enough to make her start fanning herself again. Good thing she'd left her shawl draped over her chair, because she didn't need any extra heat.

They passed by the other couple in their annex, who were now finishing their dinner course, so Stephanie felt virtuous at leaving them alone for the exquisite shared delight of dessert. They trailed through the rest of the hallway, passing through the smaller dining room on the way, and then reached the main dining-and-dancing room with its parquet floor and small stage.

The tables ringing the floor were only half full, as their occupants were dancing with one another.

On stage, the flapper-dressed singer was swaying to the beat as well, while the other musicians played the intro to the next smooth yet upbeat melody. Ranger led them to the dance floor and then turned to frame her in his arms. There was plenty of room around them; probably the slower music of the past quarter hour or so had calmed the dancing and persuaded more energetic partiers to sit down for a while.

"Oh, I recognize this song," Stephanie enthused as she began following Ranger's steps.

"The warmth of your love, like the warmth of the sun," the singer's honeyed voice infused seamlessly into the melody. "This will be our year, took a long time to come."

Stephanie felt the pleasure of letting her body follow the melody while also following Ranger's movements. They were all aligned in the quiet joy of a shared, happy moment. She looked up, seeing a quizzical tilt to Ranger's lips. "What?" she asked, leaning into him as they moved slowly to the melody.

"This only happens when you're around. Not with anyone else."

Her eyebrows pulled together in puzzlement. Meanwhile the singer's voice deepened into the refrain. "I won't forget the way you held me up when I was down…." she sang, gazing wistfully over the dancefloor and into the distance.

As she continued singing, Ranger reached his hand up, lightly soothing Stephanie's worried brow. Still gazing into her eyes, he brushed those same fingertips over to ruffle a couple of the corkscrew curls along the side of her face. "When you're around, songs start playing that match the moment. That really never happens otherwise."

"You just need to listen," she leaned into his trailing fingers. "I'll help you with that," she smiled, half leaning into shoulder with a sigh. "It's like how you help me pay attention to my surroundings. You're looking for bad guys with guns, for safety's sake. I'm looking for birthday cake and happy songs and great shoes, for happiness' sake. It's like the two sides of the same coin thingy."

His quiet laughter rumbled from his chest into her body. They had managed to slowly dance into an area of the floor that was mostly empty when he lifted her chin with his fingers. Leaning down, he touched his lips to hers, pressing them into a slow, full kiss with intensity that seemed to convey the passion of words he had saved up until now. His fingers moved to cup her cheek while his tongue teased against her lips.

His kiss was filled with sensuality and promise. And it was good that she was in his arms since his lips, combined with the tingle his fingers left along her skin and the press of his warm, strong body left her weak-kneed and ready to surrender.

But instead of surrendering, she reached up to pull him closer while her tongue joined his, dancing together while their feet stayed in place. Pressing even closer to him, she was once again glad she'd worn her new heels tonight because she didn't even need to reach for his lips. And, his fingers running along the generous neckline of her dress once again confirmed that it was truly the perfect dress. Or it was truly the perfect night and she was wearing a dress. And shoes. Or something….

She finally broke for air, a bit glassy eyed. Her tongue darted along her own lips as though rehearsing a memory. Then, before she knew what she was saying, she blurted, "Wow, flan really is delicious."

This time he actually laughed out loud. "You never disappoint."

She chuckled along with him, stepping slightly out of the way of another couple that was bravely attempting a floor-covering foxtrot. Ranger looped her toward him and resumed dancing.

In a velvet tone, the singer wrapped up the song with the final refrain, "And this will be our year, took a long time to come." And then the band started up another song, equally slow but with a different beat. Ranger, of course, effortlessly changed his steps to match, subtly guiding her with his hands on her arms.

It was one of those seductive songs where, in high school, the nuns would have insisted on the dancers having straight arms to create space between the dancers. Here with Ranger, straight arms had been replaced with all the contact she could want. His hands pulled her tight and she remembered yet again how perfectly they fit together. She hummed, low and long, as his warmth enveloped her. His new aftershave entranced her, his thighs flexed against hers, and his hardness pressed against her stomach, igniting the heat of her very core.

He inhaled sharply, muscles taut, and she had the suspicion she'd hummed her pleasure a bit more vigorously than she'd thought.

Her guess was confirmed when he teased his left hand up her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps up her neck, and then to her cheek. "You know, I am a man of strong self control," he murmured, his voice husky and dark.

A shiver ran up her spine. "I've always known that."

"You do test it, though" he breathed warmly against her ear.

"You've told me that I play with fire," she replied. Peeking around to see that they were at the far, shadowed edge of the floor and relatively alone again, she decided to match action with words. With just a slight shift she was able to turn and lightly touch the edge of his ear with her tongue.

And well, perhaps she shouldn't have had that extra glass of wine during dessert to help finish the bottle. Because brushing her hands along his body to pull his hips against hers seemed like exactly the right thing to do at the moment. She took particular pleasure at the sound of his breathing, more like panting. Or was that perhaps a growl?

With a quick touch of lips against her hairline, Ranger gently separated them. As he caught her eyes with his own indulgent, intent gaze, his full lips were curved with amusement. "Babe, I may be an opportunist, but I'm also a strategist. That tells me that you probably don't want us to be thrown out of the restaurant after I ravish you on the floor."

She puffed out her disappointment, though she wholeheartedly agreed with his conclusion. About the "being thrown out part," at least. Also, as a pair of dancing teenagers passed near them doing some type of joyous shuffle dance move while holding their cellphones, she admitted she didn't want to become a viral internet example of bad adult behavior at the very start of a new year. Tempting though it was, in a Grandma Mazur "do what you want, kiddo" sort of way.

So she took another deep breath to steady herself and smiled. "You're right," she said, pouting. "Why are you always sensible? And right?"

He urged them back into something resembling a dance step while saying, "I'm not sure if I'm being sensible, in this case."

"You are," she followed his steps, though she couldn't help sashaying her hips. What was that song… hips don't lie? After all, her entire body was feverish with the knowledge that she was inches away from the sexiest man in the room. A man who was looking at her with very bedroom eyes.

"Remember to thank me later for my exemplary dedication and selfless service," he said in a deep, ironic tone. Then, he murmured so softly that she could barely hear him, "And here I thought it was difficult to leave your condo in time for our dinner reservations."

As he spoke, the band began a new song. Perhaps wanting to redirect the hanky panky on the dance floor— and Stephanie was pleased to note that they weren't the only couple whose dancing had apparently gotten a bit, umm, steamy— the band had switched to a more up-tempo song. "You know you make me wanna shout," the singer enthused while sketching out dance steps with the band. Younger diners hopped up to the floor while several of the older couples around Stephanie and Ranger began heading toward their tables.

"Ranger," she began. Then, smiling as she remembered her New Year's present, she said, "Carlos, Let's head back home."

He actually blinked as though trying to process her words. "Are you sure you don't want to stay to watch the offshore fireworks at midnight?"

"So sure," she answered, her body already imagining an entirely different type of fireworks. She positively melted at the thought.

"Works for me," he replied with a smirk. In almost no time, they'd retrieved what they'd left at the table, Ranger had ensured that the check was paid with a hefty tip, and they'd hastened back to his parked Porsche.

Focused as she was, the drive back from the restaurant took hardly any time. She emerged from his car, once again with her hand supported by his. This time, though, she tipped toward him until he was holding her up, which of course led to a kiss. Another delicious taste of him as her mouth moved against his and then nibbled along his lip, her tongue soothing immediately afterward.

Though maybe it wasn't as soothing as it was inciting, as she felt every inch of him hardening through their clothing. One large hand moved up to cradle her head, his fingers delving into her pinned-up hair and teasing the small tendrils against her neck. The other moved down slightly, pulling her hips toward his in that ancient, primal gesture of need.

Then he turned to lean her against the car, pressing his body even closer to hers, his muscular bulk molded to her curves. His fingertips traced a line from her neck down to her neckline and cleavage. His other hand stroked broadly down her flank, awakening every nerve along her thigh and between her hips. As was only fair, her hands had traded roles with his, with one tangled in his hair and the other pulling his wonderfully toned backside against her, pinning herself even closer to his car.

Their kissing, his increasingly harsh breathing, and her moans that were half swallowed by his lips were the only sounds in the quiet of the palm-ringed night. Well no, Stephanie realized, frogs and crickets had resumed their night songs in the fringe of her condo's parking lot, while muffled music and laughter sounded from one of the condos beyond. Muted conversation echoed from the other side of the lot. And the crunch of gravel from the street told of people driving home from a party, or perhaps from work. With one or two possibly headed to this very parking lot.

She took a breath, tucking her forehead against his shoulder. They were in the clinches of desire while in public, yet again. She inhaled his delightfully masculine scent to borrow some of his noted self control— which okay, might have not helped at all but was so worthwhile, anyway— and then managed to speak his name. His special name, that he'd gifted to her.

"Carlos," she took another breath, with its not-helpful but so very worthwhile infusion of his scent. "Um, we should probably take this 'public display' inside," she murmured against the cloth of his suit jacket. His shoulders straightened with his inhale and, with that, she was almost unable to imagine anything beyond what that movement would be like skin to skin.

"Good thinking, Babe," he interrupted her thoughts while gently separating from her. He moved his fingers to the side of her face, lightly kissing the other side nearest his lips. "I'm glad of your awareness of your surroundings. Though if you change your mind about public display outside, let me know and I'll be more than happy to oblige. After all, this is my favorite car."

Pulling back to peer at him, her eyes rounded, she saw that the corner of his lips were lifted in genuine amusement. "You're such a guy," she shook her head.

"Twenty-four, seven. And at your service," he said, eyes glinting like dark stars under the light from one of the lot's lights. Probably aware of her visions of what that twenty-four-hour service might be like, he nudged her shoulder. "Come on, let's go," he said with a knowing smirk.

He shepherded her along the shell-and-stone parking lot and then down the pavers that really shouldn't have had those seams between them that tipped her heels. Then finally, thanks to Ranger's dexterity with her keys and brand-new alarm controls, they made it through her front door, the tail ends of Cindy-Lou Who's gift ribbon flying through the air as the door swung shut.

"Welcome home again, Babe," he half-whispered into her ear, his breath caressing almost as delightfully as his lips had done previously.

"Mmm," was all she could manage to say in reply as he pushed her gently against the closed door. His elbows bracketed her as his palms cradled her head for a kiss. While his knee slid between her legs, her own hands were busy reaching under his suit jacket and up to the backs of his broad, strong shoulders. "Mmm," she repeated. Then, as his lips met her cheek, her ear, and then the tender skin of her neck, she heard herself murmur, "This is just like against your car, but warmer."

His slow, rolling laughter filled the room. "Perhaps my romantic technique is somewhat repetitive," he said with a kiss to her forehead. The amusement in his eyes was clear in the glow from the kitchen nightlight.

"I wasn't complaining," she protested when he backed away, leaving her hands bereft as they slid out from under his jacket. He did, though, have a point. She distinctly remembered a number of other clinches with him while leaning against her apartment wall in Trenton, the bricks of the buildings in the Plum Bonds alley, and against the main door of his seventh floor apartment at Rangeman. She hadn't complained then, either, but she couldn't deny the pattern.

While she pondered that, he had steered them past her small wall of unpacked boxes toward the bedroom. "Steph, I want to do this right," he said, stopping them just inside the doorway. "So you know that being with you is important to me."

Tilting her head as though to see him better, she blinked. "I think I missed something," she finally confessed.

He reached up, fingering her increasingly unruly hair away from her forehead and eyes. "We've made love before," he began, brows drawn together in thought. "Maybe 'friends with benefits' but I'm not sure that's the right phrase. Anyway, here, right now, we've spoken about trying something more serious between us. I want tonight to be part of that."

How could he be so rational in the throes of lust? As she saw the corner of his lips twitch, she suspected she'd said that aloud. But, for once, the words she needed to say were surprisingly easy. "If we each decide that tonight means more than before, then it does. For me, being her with you is special. I mean, I flew over a thousand miles to get here, with everything that matters to me in boxes, and Rex on the way. A big part of why I decided to do that is to be together with you."

She rested her hand on his shoulder. "And I think you're saying that being together tonight is special to you, too. After all, there was all the wining and dining and dancing, earlier. And now there's you. Right here. Telling me that I matter in between kisses." She couldn't help smiling. "You have no price; I have no doubts. So, Batman, what are we waiting for?"

Once again, his easy laughter filled the room. "Good question," he said as he pulled her close, taking a deep breath before meeting his lips with his. While they kissed, she helped him shrug out of his suit jacket and began to unbutton his shirt.

"I'm good at questions," she murmured as his hands stroked down her back, pulling open her dress zipper as he went. He ended with his palms straddling her rear, pulling her firmly against him as she butterflied her mouth along his neck.

"You're good at many things," he replied while she was busy slipping his opened shirt as far as she could over his shoulders.

"Mmm," she replied while she slowly drew her hands downward along his undershirt, from his delightfully bulky shoulders, brushing against his male nipples, all the way down to his waistband. She delighted in his low groan as her fingers, having freed the front of his undershirt, began fluttering further along his skin.

In a shrug, Ranger freed his arms from the constraints of his dress shirt, tossing it to the floor to land with his jacket. That will wrinkle, Stephanie thought idly while she used that moment to push up his undershirt in a broad hint. He readily caught her meaning, and yet another male garment hit the floor.

He then began freeing her from her dress. Mission accomplished, she stepped out of the dress with his help, and her panties as well. He then joined his fingers to hers where his skin met cloth along his waistband. A button undone, a zipper opened, and she was quick to palm the warm delight that sprung from the opening in his pants. They both moaned in tandem as he freed his legs and stepped fully nude into the moonlight sifting through the drapes.

And, wow, when had he removed his shoes, since hers were still on? He was still the wizard.

His slow chuckle brushed against her skin like the bubbles of warm champagne while he pulled her back to the bed. She landed half on top of him, giving herself extra points for not having lost the treasure in her hand. While she was busy, he traced his fingers in patterns across her skin, pausing at the swell of her breasts. With one hand remaining in place, the other resumed its exploration down to her waist, her hips, and finally sliding over to tease at the apex of her womanhood.

With a gasp, her head tilted back and she felt the warmth of his mouth as he began to tongue the tender skin that his traveling hand had recently left. Within only a few moments, it was as though those previously imagined bubbles of warm champagne had burst throughout her entire body and she arched with a wordless cry.

"That's it," he murmured against her tingling skin. "Enjoy it."

And she did, wholeheartedly, until finally his fingers stilled and her breathing slowed to closer to normal levels. It took a while before she was able to resume using her hands more strategically. "My turn," she finally murmured. Mmm, what a fine man he was.

"Let me help," he said, shifting and levering them both until she straddled him.

In the distance, she heard cheers and the sound of fireworks from the hotel side of Key Biscayne. The whole island is in favor of this, she thought while gazing at the handsome man beneath her, his eyes almost black with desire. She was over the moon at hearing him breathe as heavily as she still was.

He tilted his head slightly until those eyes locked with hers. With a passion-smoked, amused smile that rivaled his 100-watt daytime version, he said, "Happy New Year, Steph."

"Oh yeah," Stephanie grinned. "I kinda forgot, with everything going on, and all." She rolled her still quite satisfied hips against his, pleased at the resulting gasp and the lust-filled reaction on his face. Delighted that she could use his real name to complete the experience, she murmured, "Happy New Year, Carlos. It's starting out really, really well."

She spared a moment to enjoy the caress of his hands along her hips while hers enjoyed the expanse of his chest and shoulders. Then she leaned down for a kiss. "Really well," she repeated, hearing him rumble "It's my pleasure" into her ear.

"That's my plan," she giggled while nipping along the edge of his ear, and then returning to his mouth to renew her kiss. And while renewing other activities, as well. And again, after experiencing Ranger's robust pleasure. And yet again while sharing their mutual pleasure. And again... well, it really was shaping up to be a very good new year.

Later— very much later— she was tucked next to his side, her arm around his waist while his fingers toyed through her freed, unruly hair. Sweat beaded along her skin, leaving a tingling coolness where it was beginning to dry in the nighttime air. The nearby New Year's parties had ended hours ago and the only sound she heard, beyond the occasional froggy chirp from outside, was the rhythm of their breathing.

Lulled into a doze, half asleep, she realized that a new day was about to start. With the reality of being in Key Biscayne, not Trenton. With the reality that there were so many practical things she needed to do before getting swept into her new test-run job with Ranger's sister. She found herself muttering, "I need to tell Dillon my address so he can forward my mail. I need to get cable." As her brain caught up to her mouth, her eyes opened. "I need to get a car."

Feeling Ranger's laughter rumbling beside her, she poked him in the shoulder. "And don't you even get any ideas. mister, about how maybe Cindy-Lou Who drives a Porsche! But wait, I also need to…."

He stopped her words with a lazy kiss against her lips. A kiss joined shortly by his tongue teasing along her lips. And with his hands, as they began to roam against her skin. Murmuring, he finally said, "Plenty of time to do all of that tomorrow. We're starting a whole new year." He kissed her again, slowly, thoroughly, deliciously. "Remember, I promised I'd help." With his words buzzing against her skin, he added, "And how do you know Cindy-Lou Who doesn't drive a Porsche?"

And then he dispelled all thoughts of words from her mind as he turned toward her, reaching for her hip to pull her more firmly against him. Skin against luscious skin, he rocked his toward his ready firmness, and she was just as eager for him as though the evening had just begun. And, in fact, his touch was all that was needed to send her spinning yet again into the vastness of the waning night's sky. Into the tomorrow that Ranger promised would be theirs together.

To be continued…


Note: The song This Will Be Our Year is an unexpectedly sweet tune by The Zombies. It's not a holiday song, but it came on in the car when I was plotting this story and I'm happy I could sneak it in. Along with the snippets of other songs that made their way to the virtual dancefloor.