“Don’t agree too readily. It’s a big favor. For the charity benefit, will you cut your hair and shave your beard?”
Startled, he lifted onto an elbow to look down at her in the meager moonlight peeking through the window.
“You don’t like it?” Her opinion of how he looked shouldn’t matter, but it did.
“I like it, Noah, but it might serve our purposes to have you clean-shaven for the gala. Would that work for you?”
This—this—had been his biggest fear with Monica, her lifestyle. He wanted to be part of her, but not necessarily of her world.
Why wasn’t he good enough the way he was? But then the admiration in her eyes had him rethinking his insecurities.
Maybe her concern was practical.
“Do you think it will bring in more money?”
“I think the people I’m inviting to the benefit will take you more seriously so, yeah, it might make a difference to how much they donate.”
“Then I’ll do it.” He rolled over onto his back. “Do you like my beard?”
She snuggled against him. “I like you. Your passion, your generosity, your personal social conscience all appeal to me and leave me breathless.” She hid her face against his shoulder. “And feeling inadequate.”
What? “No. God, no. Anything but that. I think you’re amazing. For years I didn’t want to give you credit for anything because I felt inadequate compared to you. I thought you would never give a geeky guy like me a second look.”
“You intimidated me. You were so smart. I had to fight to bring in good marks, but you knew so much. You were so you so early. It feels like it’s taken me years to become me.”
“I like who you are, Monica. I really do.”
Monica fell asleep in his arms. He liked having her in his home, in his bed and his arms.
He touched his beard. It had been part of him for so long, he couldn’t imagine life without it.
What the hell was he worrying about? It was only hair. It would grow back quickly.
Even so, a frisson of unease unsettled him.
* * *
IN THE MORNING, Monica rolled over, but Noah wasn’t there.
She rubbed her hand across the spot where he’d slept, but she didn’t feel the emptiness that dogged her every morning. Full of joy and hope, she jumped out of bed, more fired up than she had felt in years—more so even than when she’d been anticipating those mornings of flirtation. The only thought swirling through her mind was Noah, Noah, Noah.
She showered then put on her dress.
Downstairs, the scent of coffee drifted from the kitchen. She made herself a cup, sipped half of it, set down the mug then went outside to find him.
He was tending to his fields, his short red hair a fire in the morning sunlight. Short?
Where was his ponytail?
He’d cut his hair already?
He sensed her movement and looked up. His beard was gone!
Dropping the hoe, he strode toward her, his steps eating up great swaths of distance until he stood in front of her, tall and handsome, and all traces of amusement gone. No easygoing hippie this morning, his intensity flared and her stomach cramped with longing.
“Look at you. You’re beautiful.” She touched his skin, which was smooth from his fresh shave.
His smile was small and sheepish. He watched her steadily, as though gauging the depth of her response. “I figured I’d better shave soon so the bottom half of my face can tan to match the top half.”
“I didn’t expect you to really do it, let alone so soon.”
“Come here,” he said, taking her hand to lead her away, but she stood her ground.
“Noah, wait. This is big.” He’d done what she’d asked even though she’d known it wouldn’t be a small concession to make. “Thank you.”
He shrugged off her thanks. He seemed uneasy about the change.
She let it go and allowed him to lead her around to the lawn at the back of the house.
There in the sunlight lay a couple of flowered quilts with an enticing breakfast spread—croissants he must have picked up yesterday, and tiny jars of different jams and a bowl of what looked like sweetened whipped cream.
“Oh, Noah,” she breathed. “You beautiful, romantic man.”
She kneeled and prepared two plates, then handed him one. They ate in the gentle heat of the warming day. When they finished Noah laid her down and unbuttoned her dress, taking his time spreading it open.
He draped her body across his legs like a shawl and took a dot of whipped cream onto his finger. When he spread it onto one of her nipples, her body tingled. He touched her with his lips.
“Heavens, Noah. You’re going to kill me. I love your mouth.”
He took her breast into that full-lipped mouth and sucked. Her body arched.
“Noah, let’s do everything imaginable here in the sun. Let’s feast on each other all day today. Let’s do all of the things men and women can do with their bodies. Teach me things I don’t know.”
Noah grinned. “Anything, Monica. Everything.” He laid her onto the quilt, slid between her legs, slipped his arms beneath her knees, spreading her wide to lust and nature, and entered her.
Her sigh echoed his.
* * *
REALITY INTRUDED, EVENTUALLY, but not until Monica made sure they had their day in the sun.
“Tomorrow I’m making a big push to get most of the details for the benefit wrapped up.”
“I’ve been too distracted by you and your insanely sexy perfume to ask how it’s been going.”
“I got a corporate sponsor to donate their grounds for the barbecue. They’ll rent tents in case it rains, too. The lawns at the back of their building are absolutely gorgeous. I remember being there once for one of my dad’s fund-raisers.”
“Hey, that’s awesome.”
“That’s not all. They’ve agreed to let us use their parking lot at the side of the building for another barbecue.”
Noah perked up. “A second barbecue?”
“Yeah, I had this idea that we could open it up to the public, so the big donors would have their posh barbecue in the back, but anyone else who wanted to attend and offer a donation, any size, could get a meal, too.”
“That’s a great idea.”
“There’s more.” Monica was proud of everything she’d come up with. “We can also feed the needy. I’ve been talking to a couple of organizations in Denver. They’re putting the word out that if people can somehow get themselves over to the event, but can’t afford to make a donation, they’ll still get a meal—for free.”
Noah’s shimmering smile, his obvious approval, warmed her to her core.
The best was yet to come, the part she thought Noah would particularly appreciate. “Want to know the best part?”
“Yeah, I really do.”
“We’re going to serve sliders at the posh part of the benefit.”
“Sliders? Isn’t that a little lowbrow for you rich folk?”
She smacked his arm playfully. “Everyone loves sliders. We’ll get Maria and Joseph to supply amazing condiments. Have you ever tried their pickled eggplant? Incredible.”
“Okay. Sounds good, but there’s a lot of high quality steak that will be wasted if it’s all going to be ground up.”
“It isn’t.” She couldn’t hold back a mischievous giggle. “We’re also going to have steaks, but we’ll be serving them in the parking lot to the so-called hoi polloi and the homeless.”
The spread of Noah’s white smile was the morning’s sunrise, healing and benevolent after a long darkness. She basked in it, because all that glorious heat was aimed her way.
“Brilliant,” he whispered. “Absolutely brilliant.”
* * *
<
br /> MARCIE STEPPED INTO the art gallery.
She needed to make friends with her sister, with someone, at any rate. Since coming to town the only person she’d spent significant time with was her father.
And it was good, better than good. Getting to know her father was turning out to be more rewarding than she could have anticipated. But she could spend only so much time with him.
Monica spotted her and approached.
“Hi,” she said. “What can I do for you?”
Something had changed. The woman positively glowed. What had happened?
It struck her hard. Monica and Noah were getting it on.
Envy—stupid, stupid envy—burned through Marcie.
I want.
She bit the inside of her cheek so she wouldn’t say something nasty, something beneath her. She’d come to the woman for help. The last thing she should do was alienate Monica.
But she wanted to. She wanted to rant and rave and break through the bonds of unfairness and inequality in which life had bound her.
She didn’t make a peep. Instead, she swallowed her anger and said, “Will you come out to lunch with me? My treat.”
Her father had given her an allowance. He was setting up a room for her jewelry-making and had let her order supplies online using his credit card.
This was her chance to get ahead, to start making money from her craft, more than a few odd dollars here and there. She could start a website. She could sell across the country. She could do what her heart desired—to design gorgeous pieces all day long and make a living from her passion.
But first, she had to get through today’s lunch, to swallow her pride and ask for her sister’s help.
Her sister. That was still so hard to come to terms with.
“I’d love to have lunch with you,” Monica answered, perky and friendly, no trace of that small, tight, condescending smile in evidence, thank God.
Marcie disliked that controlled smile, but the reason it had been banished bothered her even more.
Monica, who had started life with so much more than Marcie, who had really had the perfect life, just kept getting more and more thrown her way.
Monica gathered her purse and they went to the café-bakery again.
“They make an amazing BLT with added avocado,” Monica said. “That’s what I’m ordering. I adore avocado.”
So did Marcie. Okay, so her twin liked avocado as much as she did. No biggie.
When they were seated at a table, lunch in front of them, Monica asked, “What’s up? What do you want?”
When Marcie stared at her, surprised that the woman was more perceptive than she’d given her credit for, Monica laughed.
“Oh, come on. We haven’t exactly hit it off. I assume you need something or you would never buy me lunch.”
Marcie finished chewing and laid her sandwich on her plate, giving herself time to swallow her pride along with the avocado.
“I need you to take me around town and introduce me to people.” She wiped her fingers on her serviette. “I’ll be honest, I hate asking you for help.”
“I’m sure it took a lot of courage.” She seemed to reach a decision quickly. “I want to help. Our lives have been lopsided. I’ll do everything I can. What do you need? How’s it been going so far? Have people not been friendly?”
“They’ve been okay. I mean no one’s been mean, but the way they look at me leaves me cold.” Before Monica could misunderstand, she rushed on. “They aren’t being cold, but I’m an interloper while you’re a solid part of their world.”
She picked up a piece of lettuce from her plate and tucked it back into her sandwich. “I’ve put a lot of effort into coming here to make a new life.”
Here came the hard part—admitting her deepest wishes. “I came to find a home, but I’m still what I’ve always been. An outsider.”
Monica’s look was sympathetic. No pity, thank goodness. “Marcie, I’ll let you in on a secret about small-town life. Unless you were born in town, it will take years to become a true part of it.”
Marcie’s disappointment must have shown because Monica said, “You have a secret weapon, though.”
“What’s that?”
“Me.” Monica finished her sandwich and wiped her lips delicately. “And the scandal that has embroiled our family. Believe it or not, that can work in your favor.”
Marcie cocked her head to study this woman who looked so deceptively benign, but who had an awesome head on her shoulders. “How?”
“People are thirsty for something different, even while they distrust anything new. And though you are different and also new, you’ll have the benefit of my patronage.”
“Patronage? Geez, what century are we living in?”
Monica laughed again, the radiance of her happiness casting Marcie further into gloom.
“It may be an old-fashioned concept, but it carries a lot of weight in this town. Dad and I will give you validity.”
That raised Marcie’s hackles. She was good and fine on her own, thank you very much. “I’m valid as I am without the mighty Accords behind me.”
“True. Dad and I are just giving you a shortcut into acceptance by this town. Isn’t that what you want?”
She had a point there. So they made plans to hang out on Monica’s next day off.
As they left the café, several people stopped them. Marcie watched while Monica worked her cool, aristocratic charm, including Marcie in every conversation until people started looking at her differently, and even smiling at her.
When they parted at the gallery, Monica winked.
“See? It worked, didn’t it?”
It did. So why did Marcie still feel so disconnected?
* * *
IN THE FOLLOWING week, Monica threw herself into the organization of the benefit, feeling more alive than she had in years.
She spent her mornings on the farm, her days at work and her evenings on the phone pulling everything together.
A couple of days she hung out with her sister and, to her utter shock, enjoyed it. She took her to Tonio’s and The Last Dance to introduce her to Maria and Audrey.
Marcie seemed to thaw by small increments.
Monica crossed her metaphorical fingers. Maybe a relationship with her sister was possible.
Her nights were Noah’s, nirvana and heaven and paradise rolled into one because she spent them with him, the master of sweet lovemaking.
But soon the time came for dinner at her father’s.
“Noah, come with me. Please. I want to introduce you to my dad.”
A startled laugh burst out of him. “Your dad? Monica, I’ve known Ian my whole life.”
“I know, but not as my boyfriend.”
His self-satisfied smile made her respond in kind. “When you put it that way, okay.”
She walked the rows of potatoes with Noah looking for pests.
“I’ve been thinking about the situation with Marcie and the conclusion I’ve come to is that I like getting to know my sister. We had a rocky start, but I’m trying really hard to change that. I spent too much time alone growing up. My dad will be gone someday. Not for a while yet, I hope. But it would be amazing to have a close sibling when that time comes. To have someone else in life besides just me.”
“I get that,” Noah said. “I love Laura and adore my niece. If they have more kids, I’ll spend the rest of my life showering them with love. I feel like I’ll never be alone because they are all my family.”
“I’d like to have that, too. If I don’t put in a strong effort with Marcie, if I don’t find some way to make her a true part of the family, I will someday be alone.”
Monica would have loved for Noah to protest, to say, “I will always be here for you,” but their
relationship was far too new for undying, forever declarations of love. She understood that, but she wanted to hear them anyway.
Back to the problem at hand, she asked, “What do you think of Marcie?”
“I think she’s so consumed by envy that she’s going to cheat herself out of her family if she isn’t careful.”
“Noah! She’s not that bad, is she?”
“Bad? No, but she has a hole that needs filling, and you and your dad might not be enough.”
“I can’t worry about that, Noah. I can only do my best to befriend her.”
“Yeah, that’s about it. And maybe the solution to all of this is to kill her with kindness. To show her what a family can really be by showering her with warmth and affection. We both know how kind you are at heart.”
She liked when he said good things about her.
Noah took her hand and held it while they inspected the crops. “I’ve seen Marcie around town. There are times when she looks lost to me. If she catches me watching her, she toughens up and becomes a bit of a hard-ass.”
“I’ve seen that behavior, too, but I don’t know what to do about it.”
“There’s nothing you can do. It’s self-protection on her part. I don’t know how you break through that.”
“It sounds like she had a difficult childhood, moving around constantly.”
Noah swiped sweat from the back of his neck. The atmosphere had become hot and heavy with impending bad weather. “That could sure make a person develop a hard shell.”
“Yes. She has that. For sure.”
Noah pointed to the ominous clouds gathering on the horizon. “There’s a severe storm coming in. Head on to your father’s and I’ll get there when I can. Don’t hold dinner for me. There are things I still need to do here.”
He kissed her, hard and fast, and she wanted more—couldn’t get enough of Noah—but she had to pick up groceries and then rush to her dad’s to start on dinner. Not only was she a guest in her father’s house tonight, but Dad had also asked her to cook the risotto he loved so much.
She spent the first couple of hours at her dad’s house cooking and fuming while clouds gathered and darkened the day, bringing with them an unnaturally early twilight. Rain started coming down hard.
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