“No,” she agreed, “but we’ll make the most of it.” Her relief was evident. “I was afraid once you looked at your schedule you’d find it impossible to get away.”
“I don’t care what it takes, I’ll be in California in two weeks.”
“Wonderful. I traded weekends with a friend so I can come to you in February. My mother’s already started to plan the wedding. She’s left a message with the secretary at the Moose Hall. It’s a very nice building.”
“Your mother’s enjoying every minute of this, isn’t she?”
Summer laughed. “Yes. But the one who surprises me most is my dad. I don’t know what you said or did, but my dad thinks you walk on water.”
It was his turn to laugh.
Then they were both silent. They’d spent nearly every minute of the previous week together. They’d discussed everything there was to discuss. Yet neither was willing to break the connection.
An hour later they were still on the phone. They hadn’t spoken more than a few words between whispered promises and deep sighs. They’d shared a few secrets and memories, some of them very private. Very intimate…
In their next conversation, he’d let Summer know he couldn’t handle much more of that.
“I’ve gotten together with a group of businessmen and spread the word,” Ralph Southworth was saying.
James sat in his office, gazing into the distance. As always, his thoughts were fifteen hundred miles to the south with Summer. He barely heard his campaign manager. In eight days he’d be with his wife. The last six had been the purest form of torture.
He lived for the times he could phone her. Because she performed in the last show of the night, he couldn’t reach her until after ten, and more often than not they spoke until past midnight.
“There’s a dinner party this Friday night at the Morrisons’,” Ralph announced.
James didn’t comment.
“You’re going, aren’t you?”
“You mean to the Morrisons’?”
Ralph Southworth looked at him oddly. “Who else do you think I mean?”
James shrugged. Ralph was a good man, a bit abrasive at times, but sincere and hardworking. According to people James trusted, Ralph Southworth was the best man for the job of getting James elected to the superior court.
“What’s with you lately, James?” Ralph asked abruptly. He pulled out a chair and sat down across from James’s desk.
Ralph was nothing if not direct. “What makes you ask?”
“Something’s not right. Ever since you got back from vacation, you haven’t been the same.”
James considered telling Ralph the truth. Part of him was eager to share the news of his marriage. Marrying Summer was nothing to be ashamed of—the opposite, in fact—but arrangements for the second ceremony were already being made. If he was willing to face the truth, James would have to admit he wasn’t keen on explaining his sudden marriage, especially to the man who’d frowned on his vacation in Vegas. He preferred to leave things as they were and invite Ralph to the wedding in April. So far, he’d told no one about Summer and for the time being even left his wedding band at home.
“Have you ever been in love?” he asked, unable to resist.
Ralph shook his head adamantly. “Never, and proud of it.”
James’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “I see.”
“Women have ruined more than one good man. Don’t be a fool, James. Don’t do anything stupid at this point. Unless it’s with someone who can help you politically, of course. Now, if you told me you were seeing Mary Horton…”
“Who?”
“Mary Horton—never mind, she’s not your type. All I can say is that if you’re going to fall for someone now, just make sure it’s a woman who can help you politically.”
“She can’t.”
Ralph tossed his hands in the air. “Somehow, I knew you were going to say that. Listen. Keep your head screwed on tight and your pants zipped up. The last thing we need now is a scandal, understand?”
“Of course. Summer’s not like—”
“Her name is Summer?” Ralph rolled his eyes expressively. “James, listen to me. You’ve asked me to run your campaign, and I’m glad to do it, but I’m telling you right now, getting involved with a woman named Summer is asking for trouble.”
“Don’t you think you’re being unfair?”
“No. Where’d you meet her?”
“Vegas.”
Ralph’s mouth thinned. “Don’t tell me she’s a show girl,” he muttered.
“No—but she’s an actress.”
A muscle leapt in his friend’s jaw. “Don’t say anything more. Not a single word. I’ve got high blood pressure and don’t want to know any more than you’ve already told me.”
“Summer has nothing to do with you,” James said, finding it difficult to quell his irritation. Ralph made Summer sound like…like a mistake.
“Don’t you remember a certain congressman who got involved with a stripper a few years back?”
“Summer isn’t a stripper!”
“It ruined him, James. Ruined him. I don’t want the same thing to happen to you.”
“It won’t. Furthermore, I won’t have you speaking about her in those terms.” In light of Ralph’s reaction, James didn’t think now was the time to announce they were already married. “If you must know, I intend to marry her.”
“Great. Do it after the election.”
“We’ve decided on April.”
“April!” Ralph barked. “That’s much too soon. Listen, you’re paying me big money to run this campaign. You want my advice, you’ve got it. What difference would a few months make?” He paused, waiting for James’s response. “Will you do that one thing?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you afraid you’ll lose her?”
“No.”
“Then put off the wedding until after the election. Is that so much to ask?”
“I’m not sure which is worse,” Julie said, applying bright red polish to her toenails, “this year or last.”
“What do you mean?” Summer asked.
“You.” She swirled the brush in the red paint and started with the little toe on her left foot. “Last year, after you broke up with Brett, you moped around the apartment for months.”
Summer laughed. “This year isn’t much better, is it?”
“Not that I can see. Listen, I understand how much you miss James. The guy’s hot. No wonder you fell for him. If the situation was reversed, you can bet I’d be just as miserable. The thing is, you won’t be apart for long. April’s right around the corner.”
Summer folded her arms and leaned against the back of the sofa. “I didn’t know it was possible to love someone as much as I love James.”
“If the number of times he calls you is any indication, I’d say he feels the same about you.”
“He works so hard.” Summer knew that many of James’s late-night calls came from his office. She also knew he was putting in extra-long hours in order to free up time he could spend with her.
“Summer, he’ll be here in a few days.”
“I know.”
“You haven’t told him about Brett?” Julie asked.
Summer’s nails bit into her palms. “What good would it do? James is fifteen hundred miles away. Brett hasn’t got a chance with me. Unfortunately he doesn’t seem ready to accept that. But he’s going to get the same message whenever he calls.”
“By the way, when James visits, I’m out of here.”
“Julie, you don’t need to leave. We can get a hotel room—really, we don’t mind.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. This is your home. You’d be more relaxed, and both of you have been through enough stress lately.”
Summer was so grateful it was all she could do not to weep. It was the stress, she decided, this tendency to be over emotional. “Have I told you how glad I am that you’re my friend?”
“Think nothing of it,” Ju
lie said airily.
“I mean it, Julie. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you these last weeks. I feel like my whole world’s been turned upside down.”
“It has been. Who else goes away for a week and comes home married? Did you think James had lost his mind when he suggested it?”
“Yes,” she admitted, remembering the most fabulous dinner of her life. “I don’t think he’s done anything that impulsive his whole life.”
Julie grinned. “Until he met you.”
“Funny, James made the same comment.”
The phone rang just then, and Summer leapt up to answer it on the off chance it was James.
“Hello,” she said breathlessly.
“Summer, don’t hang up, please, I’m begging you.”
“Brett.” Her heart sank. “Please,” she told him, “just leave me alone.”
“Talk to me. That’s all I’m asking.”
“About what? We have absolutely nothing to say to each other.”
“I made a mistake.”
Summer closed her eyes, fighting the frustration. “It’s too late. What do I have to say to convince you of that? You’re married, I’m married.”
“I don’t believe it.” His voice grew hoarse. “If you’re married, then where’s your husband?”
“I don’t owe you any explanations. Don’t phone me again. It’s over and has been for more than a year.”
“Summer, please…please.”
She didn’t wait to hear any more. His persistence astonished her. When she’d found him with another woman, he’d seemed almost glad, as though he was relieved to be free of the relationship. In retrospect, Summer realized that Brett had fallen out of love with her long before, but had lacked the courage to say anything. Later, when he’d married, and she learned it wasn’t the same woman he’d been with in Vegas, she wondered about this man she thought she knew so well, and discovered she didn’t know him at all.
His behavior mystified her. After loving Brett for six years, she expected to feel something for him, but all the feeling she could muster was pity. She wanted nothing to do with him. He’d made his choice and she’d made hers.
“Brett? Again?” Julie asked when Summer joined her in the living room.
Summer nodded. “I hope this is the end of it.”
“Have you thought about having the phone number changed?”
“That’s a good idea. And I’m going to get call display, too.”
Julie studied her for a moment. “Are you going to tell James why we’ve got a new phone number?”
“No. It would only worry him, and there’s nothing he can do so far away. Brett doesn’t concern me.”
“Maybe he should.”
Summer arrived at the Orange County airport forty minutes before James’s flight was due, in case it came in early. Every minute of their day and a half together was carefully planned.
The only negative for Summer was the brunch with her parents Sunday morning. Her mother had several questions about the wedding that she needed to discuss with James. Summer begrudged every minute she had to share James; she knew she was being selfish, but she didn’t care.
Julie, true to her word, had made a weekend trip to visit a family member, an elderly aunt in Claremont.
By the time James’s plane touched down, she was nearly sick to her stomach with anticipation. As soon as he stepped out of the secure area, he paused, searching for her.
Their eyes connected and in the second before he started toward her, her heart seemed to stop. Then it began to race.
When they’d parted in Las Vegas, it felt as if everything had come to an abrupt standstill. Now she could see him, could feel him, for the first time since they’d parted two weeks ago.
Dashing between the other passengers, she ran toward him. James caught her in his arms and crushed her against him. His hands were in her hair, and his mouth hungrily sought hers.
His embrace half lifted her from the ground. She clung to him, fighting back a flood of emotion. Unexpectedly tears filled her eyes, but she was too happy to care.
James broke off the kiss, and Summer stared up at him, smiling. It was so good to see him.
“What’s this?” he asked, brushing his thumb across the moisture on her cheeks.
“I guess I missed you more than I realized.”
“You’re beautiful,” he said in a low voice.
“I bet you tell all the women that,” she joked.
“Nope, only the ones I marry.”
Summer slipped her arm around his waist, and together they headed toward the luggage carousel. “I packed light.”
“Good.” Because it felt so good to be close to him, she stood on the tips of her toes and kissed his cheek. “You’ll be glad to hear Julie’s gone for the weekend.”
“Remind me to thank her.”
“She’s been wonderful.”
“Any more crank calls?”
Summer had almost forgotten that was the excuse she’d given him when she’d had her phone numbers changed. “None.” And then, because she was eager to change the subject, she told him, “I’ve got every minute planned.”
“Every minute?”
“Well, almost. Mom and Dad invited us over for brunch in the morning. I couldn’t think of any way to get out of it.”
“It might be a good idea to see them.”
“Why?”
James frowned, and she noticed the dark circles under his eyes. He was working too hard, not sleeping enough, not eating properly. That would all change when she got to Seattle. The first thing she’d do was make sure he had three decent meals a day. As for time in bed, well, she didn’t think that would be a problem.
“There might be a problem with the wedding date,” he said reluctantly.
Summer halted midstep. “What do you mean?”
“April might not work, after all.” He paused. “It doesn’t matter, does it? We’re already married.”
“I know, but…”
“We can talk about it later, with your family. All right?”
She nodded, unwilling to waste even one precious minute arguing over a fancy wedding when she already wore his ring.
Seven
For years James had lived an impassive and sober life. He’d never considered himself a physical man. But three weeks after marrying Summer, making love occupied far more of his thoughts than it had in the previous thirty-odd years combined.
“How far is it to your apartment?” he asked, as they walked to her car.
Summer didn’t immediately respond.
“Summer?”
“It seems to me we have a few things to discuss.”
“All right,” he said, forcing himself to stop staring at her. She had him at a distinct disadvantage. At the moment he would have agreed to just about anything, no matter where the discussion led—as long as they got to her place soon. As long as they could be alone…
“I want to know why there’s a problem with the wedding date.”
He should’ve realized. “Sweetheart, it has more to do with your parents than you and me. Let’s not worry about it now.”
“You want to delay the wedding, don’t you?”
“No,” he responded vehemently. “Do you honestly think I’m enjoying this separation? I couldn’t be more miserable.”
“Me, neither.”
“Then you have to believe I wouldn’t do anything that would keep us apart any longer than necessary.” James glanced at her as she drove. He was telling the truth, although not, perhaps, the whole truth. Time enough for that later, he thought. He was worried about Summer. She seemed pale and drawn, as if she weren’t sleeping well or eating right. This situation wasn’t good for either of them.
After fifteen minutes they arrived at her apartment building. He carried in his suitcase and set it down in her small living room, gazing around.
Summer’s personality seemed to mark each area. The apartment was bright and cheerful. The kitchen es
pecially appealed to him; the cabinets had been painted a bold yellow with red knobs. Without asking, he knew this was her special touch.
She led him into her bedroom, and he stopped when he noticed the five-foot wall poster of her as Beauty posing with the Beast. She looked so beautiful he couldn’t take his eyes off it. He felt a hint of jealousy of the man who was able to spend time with her every night, even if it was in costume.
His gaze moved from the picture to the bed. A single. He supposed it wouldn’t matter. The way he felt just then, they’d spend the whole night making love anyway.
He turned toward his wife. She smiled softly, and in that instant James knew he couldn’t wait any longer. His need was so great that his entire body seemed to throb with a need of its own.
He held out his hand, and she walked toward him.
If he had any regrets about their time in Vegas, it was that he’d been so eager for her, so awkward and clumsy. Tonight would be slow and easy, he’d promised himself. When they made love, it would be leisurely so she’d know how much he appreciated her. They’d savor each other without interruption.
“Summer, I love you.” He lifted the shirt over her head and tossed it carelessly aside. His hands were at the snap of her jeans, trembling as he struggled to hold back the urgency of his need.
He kissed her with two weeks’ worth of pent-up hunger, and all his accumulated frustration broke free.
He eased the jeans over her slender hips and let them fall to her feet, then released her long enough to remove his own clothes. As he was unbuttoning his shirt, he watched her slip out of her silky underwear. His breath caught in his throat.
When James finished undressing, they collapsed on the narrow bed together. And then he lost all sense of time….
Summer woke to the sound of James humming off-key in the kitchen. The man couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, as her dad liked to say. Smiling, she glanced at her clock radio—almost 6:00 p.m. She reached for her housecoat and entered the kitchen to find him examining the contents of her refrigerator.
“So you’re one of those,” she teased, tying the sash of her robe.
“One of what?” He reappeared brandishing a chicken leg.
The Manning Grooms Page 27
