A/N's: For a few minutes there I thought maybe u guys weren't interested in this fic anymore...but Dani, u brought me back. Thanks so much chica! Also, looks like Dee's wearing something she shouldn't...naughty, naughty Dee! ;)

Chapter 8

Bright October sunlight caused Dee to open her eyes and blink. She knew she'd overslept. Groaning, she tossed back the covers, took a quick shower, and pulled on her jeans and a sweat shirt.

The Columbus Day parade was to begin promptly at ten o'clock on the Saturday before the actual holiday. Dee, used to rising early every morning, hadn't set her alarm, certain she'd awake with time to spare.

Now, at five after nine, she was speeding toward the station in her blue Porsche. She roared into the parking lot and up to her office where a note was tapped to the door.

"Dee, your costume is in Dwayne's office, Janelle."

Dee turned and sped down the hall. The station was quiet. All the other participants were already at the parade site or across the street at Griminzo's. Dee threw open the door to Dwayne's office, saw a big box on the couch, and drew out a green satin dress, a matching garter, a pair of black mesh hose, and very high heels. The green satin hat had a curling green feather.

Dee smiled and slammed the door closed. She soon stood frowning before the big mirror. Mesh hose and high heels on, satin hat pinned atop her upswept hair, Dee was frantically trying to hook up the back of the tight dress. Arms bent behind her, she fumbled with the stubborn hooks, her cheeks staining a bright red.

Her high breasts were practically spilling from the snug bodice. The full skirt reached her knees, but the hem was folded back over the dress at one point, showing off white, frilly ruffles as well as a stockinged leg. The green garter was visible upon her left thigh. Momentarily wishing she'd dressed up as a schoolmarm, Dee gasped when the office door opened.

In the portal a tall, dark cowboy stood gaping at her. Booted feet apart, the intruder's brown eyes flashed with menace. A tailored shirt of snowy white stretched across muscular shoulders; a star of shiny silver flashed upon his chest. Tight black trousers revealed the lean, hard muscles of his thighs. Around his narrow hips, a gun belt of smooth leather rode low, a silver pistol in the holster. Upon his head was a pearl-gray Stetson, and on his hands, gloves of black kid leather.

"Dwayne!" she gasped, clutching frantically at her open dress.

His eyes raking over her, he took a step inside, closing the door behind him. Dee met his furious gaze, although her stomach was doing a flip-flop and her hands were trembling.

She lifted her chin and said, "Dwayne, could you help me fasten my costume? I'm having a little trouble with the hooks." She smiled sweetly at him as though she'd not noticed his displeasure.

Dwayne couldn't keep from smiling back. Rigid body relaxing, he replied, "I'm not Dwayne. I'm the marshal ma'am, and I ought to arrest you for going about half-naked."

Relief flooding her body, Dee laughed and took up the game. "Oh, marshal, please don't take me to jail. I'll be plenty hooked up." She batted long eyelashes at him.

"I doubt that." He grinned, his eyes moving to the swell of her breasts. "But I'll do what I can." He pulled off his gloves and came to stand behind her. Nimble brown fingers went to the tiny hooks at her waist. "Move your hands, Dee, and I'll have this taken care of in a minute."

"I'm all yours," she said, smiling, and felt warm hands brushing the bare skin of her back as Dwayne tugged at the tiny hooks. A shiver went up her spine. She wondered if he felt it. All at once the big hands stilled, left the dress, and gently cupped her bare shoulders. Turning his head, he lowered his lips to her nape, kissing her lightly. He looked at her in the mirror opposite and said softly, "What am I doing dressing you when all I've ever wanted to do is undress you?"

Dee opened her mouth, but no words would come. A little gasp escaped her lips and Dwayne pulled her back against his tall, hard frame. He pressed his open lips to the sensitive cord going down her neck.

"Dwayney-Boy," her nickname for Dwayne rolled easily off her tongue in a hushed whisper. She tilted her head to give him total access.

"Dee," he murmured hoarsely, while he nibbled tenderly. "Why do you have to be so sweet?" His tongue teased at the tender spot beneath her ear. "Why must I feel I'll starve without the taste of you?"

Dee sighed and turned her face toward his. Dwayne's lips lifted and her looked into her shining gold eyes. He moaned and slowly lowered his mouth to her soft, parted lips. He kissed her with restrained passion, trying desperately to control the fire she'd kindled in him. But when their lips separated, his eyes dropped to catch the brief, fleeting glimpse of the rosy-hued crest of a creamy white breast.

It was his total undoing.

Dwayne groaned, pulled her back against him once again and let his hands slide up her rib cage to the top of the dress. With his lips in her hair and his deep, drugging voice whispering her name, he slowly peeled the green satin down to her waist. Dee didn't protest as, with a gentleness that left her breathless, those sure hands moved up her trembling body, tenderly cupping her bare breasts.

Unbelieveable warmth and pleasure quickly flooded Dee's being. Open-mouthed, she kissed his smooth cheek, licking a line along his chiseled jaw.

"Dee." His voice was husky. "Dee, honey, open your eyes."

Face still turned, she let her eyes open and gasped when she cut them across the room toward the mirror. "Dwayne." She bit her bottom lip and once again closed her eyes.

"No, sweet," he pleaded. "Open your eyes and look. Look at us, honey. Oh, you're so beautiful."

Face flushed, Dee opened her eyes again. In the mirror two eager lovers were caught and framed.

Dwayne's hands reluctantly left her breasts; he turned her in his arms and pulled her up against his tall, hard, body. His mouth lowered to hers and all restraint was gone. Hungrily, deeply, he kissed her, holding her head in his spread fingers to press her closer. Sighing into his mouth, Dee pushed the Stetson from his head and ran an eager hand up in this black hair, her senses reeling from the heated mouth devouring hers.

Dee was vaguely aware of something on Dwayne's broad chest pressing into her naked shoulder. It was mildly abrasive, and soon forgotten when his hot, wet tongue dipped deeper, finally drawing her own into his mouth.

Weak, dizzy, thrumming with desire, Dee clung to him, loving the feel of his mouth, his hands moving over her bare back and finally sliding to her satin-clad hips to press her ever closer to the pulsing, throbbing hardness straining against his tight black trousers.

"Hey, Johnson." Jeff Groen's voice was followed by pounding on the door.

"Dwayne!" Dee gasped, horrified.

Dwayne, eyes still glazed with passion, stepped protectively in front of Dee, shielding her should Jeff open the door. "Be right with you, Jeffrey." His voice was just a bit shaky. "Stay where you are, we're on our way out." Broad chest rising and falling rapidly, Dwayne deftly hooked up Dee's dress.

"All done," he whispered and she turned to face him. Dwayne winced. There on her delicate white shoulder, red blotches from the punishing silver star on his chest looked tender and raw. "Dee, I'm sorry," he said, and Dee knew he was apologizing for more than chapped flesh. Before she could respond, he retrieved his Stetson and hurried her to the door.

Jeff Groen, dressed as a piano player in an old-time sporting house, stood with his arms folded. "I was beginning to..." His words trailed off as he looked from Dwayne to Dee and back again. Eyes twinkling, his lips began lifting into a pleased smile.

"Open your mouth and I'll shut it for you, Jeffrey." Dwayne glared down at him. Jeff remained silent, but he winked at Dee. She couldn't keep from smiling.