Summer Day Dreams

by Verity Norton

  It was almost nine when he pulled up in front of the B and B. He took the stairs three at a time and tapped gently on the door. Too impatient to wait any longer, he used his key.

  She was sitting on the couch in the living room, dressed in soft flannel Scotty dog pajamas and a red tank top, skimpier than the previous one, if that was possible. Again no bra. This time she did not even attempt to hide that fact. She tossed aside her book and ran across the room to him.

  “I didn’t expect you until tomorrow!”

  He held her against him, struggling to breathe normally, struggling to breathe at all. Something was different about her. When he finally put her down, and looked at her flushed cheeks, and then across the room to the Queen Anne coffee table where the bottle of cognac sat beside her half empty glass, he knew exactly what it was.

  “I got all the information I needed,” he said.

  “Did you find him? Did you find my father?” She wasn’t slurring her words, but two more sips of cognac and she would be.

  “Not him, but his parents.”

  She let him go, a dreaminess glazing over her eyes. “My grandparents? I have grandparents. Did you meet them?”

  “They’re on a cruise in Alaska, but we’ll go see them as soon as they return. If we haven’t tracked down Michael Donahue by then, I’m sure they’ll tell us where he is.”

  “I’ve waited this long. I can wait a while longer.” She went back to the couch and reached for the glass of cognac and took a sip.

  Sean followed, easing the glass out of her hand and setting it down. “How much of this have you had?”

  “Not much. They’re tiny glasses. This is only my second one.”

  “Yeah, Soph, but they’re tiny glasses for a reason. This stuff is potent.”

  She shrugged. It couldn’t be much stronger than port, and she’d drunk a lot more of that the other night. “So tell me about them—what you learned. Do you know what my father does? Does he have a wife and kids? Other kids?”

  “All I know is that he was working at the same diner as your mother was when they met. And—”

  “And what?” She reached for the glass, but he snatched it away from her which caused her to giggle.

  “He was married when he and your mother were together.”

  Sophie sank back against the couch pillows. “No wonder. It must have been an affair. He didn’t want his family to find out.”

  “If your mother even told him.”

  “True. Self-reliant Barbara Weldon never needed anyone else, even when she had a baby. Except for a couple years when she manipulated poor David Culver into thinking he was my father.”

  This time she was faster than Sean when she reached for the glass. He was relieved she only took a tiny sip. Something was going on here. Something had happened to make her want to numb herself. He went over to the bar and poured her a tall glass of water.

  “Here, drink this.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s good for you.”

  “I’m tired of what’s good for me.”

  “Really? So, are you going to tell me what happened while I was gone?”

  “What are you talking about? Nothing happened.”

  “Something happened to make you want to drown yourself in a glass of cognac.” Unfortunately that was pretty much all it took.

  “If I drink some water, can we change the subject?”

  Sean laughed and shoved the water at her. She drank half of it, then looked up at him. Clearly it hadn’t made a dent.

  “So, what do you want to talk about?”

  “Your trip. Tell me more. Tell me everything.”

  “Your grandparents live just outside a little town in the foothills. Auburn. Very charming. You’ll like it a lot. They live on acreage . with horses.”

  “Horses? Really?” She went off into her dreamland. Sean could read her like a book. She was thinking how wonderful it would have been if she’d had grandparents to visit growing up, especially grandparents who lived in the country with horses. Although it was altogether possible that they had only recently moved to the country.

  “Now we know why you’re a natural at riding. It must have come from your father’s side of the family.”

  Sophie was still smiling, dreaming of the childhood she would have loved to have experienced.

  “Soph, can I ask you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “After meeting your mother, I’m just wondering how did you— How did you get to be you?”

  “By not wanting to be her, I suppose.”

  “But you’re so different.”

  “Who knows what she was like before. Maybe she’s the way she is for a reason. Maybe she shut herself off to survive.”

  Not unlike his cousin had done, Sean thought. But the last person he wanted to bring up tonight was Alex. He had a suspicion he was the reason for Sophie’s non-sober state.

  “But how did you survive that? How did you come out with your love of life still intact? Your enthusiasm? Did your mother ever let you express that?”

  Sophie shook her head. “Not really. I learned to keep my mouth shut around her. I think I was more of an annoyance to her than anything else, especially when I was excited about something.” Her eyes opened wide. She’d never said that to anyone but Arielle who had known her back then. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “It’s okay. I could see that about her.”

  “But she loves me, Sean. I know she does. It’s just that—”

  “She isn’t real good at showing it.”

  “Exactly. I think she feels bad for not being there for me more, but it was easy to rationalize at the time. She needed to work hard. She needed to provide for us.”

  He took her hand and squeezed it. She held onto his as if it were a lifeline to the spirit that had survived. “How did you come out okay? I still don’t understand.”

  She was clinging even more tightly to his hand, and he noticed her eyes were glistening with moisture. “Arielle,” she whispered. “And Davie.”

  “Arielle is your best friend.”

  “Yes. And Davie—was her little brother.”

  Her use of the past tense had not escaped him.

  “We met when we were seven years old when we moved into the house next door to them.” She was smiling as she remembered. “Arielle and I became best friends that very day. And we’re still best friends.” She looked up at Sean. “Even though we talk all the time, I miss her so much. But she lives in Santa Barbara and I live— Where do I live?” Her sigh caused her to shudder.

  Instinctively Sean put his arm around her.

  “Ari’s home was my real home. They were my real family. Her parents were so kind. They included me in everything. It was their house I came home to after school, their house I stayed at on weekends. We had so much fun. Arielle and I both loved to play imaginary games. I became really good at creating my own pretend world. And family.”

  That explained a lot. “But there’s something else, Soph. You appreciate everything. You see everything. You can spot a butterfly fluttering around a tree while you’re driving twenty-five miles an hour, or a lone daisy from the back of a horse.”

  “That was Davie,” she whispered. “He taught us that. He was such a gift. He taught us to see things, to embrace life, to live every minute. To appreciate.”

  Softly, Sean asked, “What happened?”

  Tears were flowing down her cheeks and he attempted to wipe them away with his thumb, resorting to his shirt. “He died when he was twelve. Leukemia.”

  “I’m sorry. Obviously you loved him a lot.”

  “He was my little brother too.” She leaned toward him to rest her head on his shoulder. “They leave,” she whispered. “It hurts so much when they leave.”

  He held her for a long time. She was still, and he would have thought she had fallen asleep but for the inconsistency in her breathing. He wanted to cheer her up, but he questioned if that was for his own sake or her
s. He had to let her go through the pain. God knows he had done the same thing enough himself.

  “That’s why you cried when I told you about Jeff.”

  Sophie nodded against him. They were silent for a few minutes and he failed to notice when she reached for the glass of cognac that was still sitting on the table. She put it to her lips just as he tried to caution her, “No, Soph. It’s too strong. You’ve had enough.”

  But it was too late. She had swallowed the entire contents of the glass. Their conversation had done anything but distract her from what was bothering her tonight. He knew if he didn’t get her upstairs to bed now, he would be carrying her. Not that he’d mind that, masochist that he was.

  “Come on, Soph, I think we’d better get you to bed.”

  She smiled at him, her cheeks turning pink. “Shounds, sounds good!”

  He raised a single eyebrow. It wasn’t what he’d meant, but truthfully he didn’t mind her assumption or her response. He took the glass out of her hand and set it on the table. Then he handed her the glass of water and watched as she finished off the other half. After setting down the glass for her, he took her hand and led her up the stairs to her bedroom.

  He pulled back the covers and told her to lie down.

  “Are you—are you coming with me?”

  Sean only wished she would remember this conversation in the morning. “Hadn’t planned to,” he mumbled.

  “Please,” she said. But this time there was no sexual implication in her tone of voice. It was something else entirely. “I don’t want to be alone. Please stay with me?”

  He could do that. Hopefully without losing his mind. He took off his shirt and his boots and socks. He unclasped his jeans but left them zipped and climbed in beside her, pulling her into his arms. Once she fell asleep he could leave. No, he’d promised her he would stay, even if it was pure torture.

  Just when he thought she’d fallen asleep, she surprised him. “I have a question for you, Sean McCullough. Why are you being sho-so nice to me?”

  “You’re easy to be nice to.”

  “You didn’t think so when you first met me. Doncha remember? You didn’t like me.” She ended her sentence with a hiccup.

  “Of course I did.”

  “Ha! Does ‘Is not rocket science’ ring a bell? Or how bout ‘Sorry, we don’t serve crème brulee or tira—tira whatever it is, here?’”

  Sean cringed. “Sorry about that.”

  “You didn’t think I was good enough to marry into the McCullough family. You didn’t think I was good enough for your cousin.”

  “You really thought that?”

  “Why else would you be so mean to me?”

  “Seriously?”

  “Sheriously.”

  “You couldn’t be more wrong. The minute I saw you I—I had to be aloof, or mean as you call it. It was the only way I could keep from—” He hesitated, but then assured himself that she would not remember any of this conversation. “Keep from falling in love with you. Didn’t work so well,” he mumbled.

  Stirring in his arms, she looked up at him. “You’re wonderful, you know that?”

  “Thanks.”

  “I mean it.”

  “What happened today, Soph?”

  “What happened? Today? I got smart, that’s what happened. Or stupid. Not sure which. I’ve always been sensible though, you know? Sensible Sophie. That’s what Alex calls me. He likes that. Sensible Sophie. Yeah, right. More like stupid Sophie. And here I called you stupid.”

  “You did?”

  “Well, I plied—implied it. Remember back when you were mean? I got you back. I told you the meaning of the word stupid. Doncha remember? Well, now you can get me back. Go on, insult me all you want.”

  “That’s the last thing I want to do, Soph. And you’re anything but stupid.”

  “Well, that just shows to go you. That makes you even stupider if you think I’m not stupid. Falling for a man who can’t love you is as stupid as it gets. Why did I fall for a man who’s already taken? Way to go, Sophie. Your fiancé is in love with someone else. And always has been.” She reached around Sean’s neck and with no resistance from him, she pulled him closer.

  She wasn’t slurring her words anymore and her tone had become serious. “Why didn’t I fall for you?” she asked, her lips softly melding into his.

  Sean thought he had died and gone to Heaven.

  He was even more certain of that when she opened her eyes and whispered, “Maybe I did.”

  She wasn’t sober. He knew that, but for the life of him he could not stop kissing her. Suddenly cognac tasted better than it ever had before.

  His mouth devoured hers as he eased on top of her, letting himself indulge in the feeling of her beneath him. It was far beyond anything he could have imagined. Her body was receptive to every move he made. His hands found her breasts and she arched her back in invitation.

  “You feel so good,” she murmured against his neck, her mouth teasing and tasting him.

  God he wanted her. As tempted as he was to ease her clothes off of her and make love to her willing body, he knew he couldn’t. He had to stop. He had to stop now. But even as he thought that, he pressed against her, wanting more.

  Sensing his thoughts, she whispered, “Don’t stop, Sean. Please don’t stop.”

  Hearing his name sent him closer to the brink. She was not all that drunk. She knew his name. She knew he was the one in her arms. But was that enough? If he took her now, he would never forgive himself and worse, he ran the risk of her never forgiving him.

  “We can’t do this, Soph. Not now. Not yet.”

  Her eyes opened as he pulled back. The pain in the blue-grey spheres almost sent him back into her arms. “Why not? I’m not lovable?”

  “Oh, God, Soph, you’re plenty lovable. But you’re engaged to my cousin. Remember him?”

  She shook her head.

  “You don’t remember Alex? The man you’re supposed to marry?”

  “Oh, that Alex?” She turned onto her side, snuggling into her pillow. Her words came slowly as her eyes closed and her breath eased. “The Alex who asked me to marry him even though he’s still in love with his childhood sweetheart?” She took a deep breath as she slipped into the sanctuary of sleep.

  So, she had figured out that Alex was still in love with Cassie. He just wondered how. He would ask her in the morning, when she was conscious. Maybe she would tell him. Maybe not. But for now he would lie in bed beside her, and hope that maybe he too would escape into the refuge of sleep.

  But he doubted he could escape as easily as she had. His thoughts would remain on that kiss that he had been imagining since the first time he’d seen her. It was definitely a kiss to build a dream on. The only problem was, after that kiss, a dream was no longer enough.

  Chapter 21

  Despite getting almost no sleep, Sean awoke at five o’clock. Habits of a farm boy. Sophie was still sleeping soundly beside him. Thankfully she had not been sick during the night. That was the reason he had stayed. He would not have wanted her to be alone if she had awakened in the middle of the night and found herself face to face with a toilet bowl.

  Memories of the moments before she had fallen asleep drifted back to him. Ecstasy. And sheer hell. He still didn’t know how he had stopped, but he was grateful he had.

  He debated whether or not to get up. Not wanting to disturb her, he stayed put, slipping back into a soft sleep. This time it was six-thirty when he awoke. Quietly he slipped out of bed and put the rest of his clothes back on. He went downstairs and made a pot of strong coffee. He poured himself a large mug full, then silently he slipped out the door and settled into a wicker rocking chair on the wraparound porch. No one was on the streets of the village. It was his favorite time. He often woke up early and sat outside on the stairs in front of the general store and watched the sun come up.

  He knew he should get over to the store. He had work to do. He did not have a good feeling about Sophie’s father. Barba
ra Weldon’s words of caution had continued to haunt him. What was he going to discover that could hurt Sophie? He figured by the end of the day, he should know more. But he did not want her to wake up and find him gone. Something had upset her last night and it would, no doubt, be the first thing she thought of when she woke up. As much as he hoped she would remember what had happened between them—at least some of it—he knew it was unlikely.

  Taking his coffee with him, he headed down the porch stairs.

  Sophie’s voice stopped him. “Why are you leaving?”

  “I have work to do.”

  “Did you stay with me? All night?”

  He nodded.

  “But you didn’t—Why didn’t you make love to me?” She ran down the stairs in her feet bare, but now dressed in her jeans and a different tank top. And, thankfully, a bra.

  “Two reasons.” He looked away from her. “One, you’re engaged to my cousin. Two, to paraphrase Jude Law, I’m not in the habit of making love to women who are unconscious.”

  “But I woke up. And I was conscious. And you were gone. And you promised you would stay.”

  “You remember that? Do you remember everything?”

  She scrunched up her forehead. “There might be some gaps.” But she did remember some things very clearly—watching him unbutton his blue oxford shirt that was only half tucked into his jeans, then unhooking the clasp on his jeans, and the disappointment she felt when he stopped there. But then he was lying on the bed beside her. And she remembered the feel of his mouth covering hers, the feel of his body pressing so deeply into hers that she was left with a permanent imprint of his desire. And the way he had looked at her, she remembered that well. It was the same way Alex looked at Cassie. “I remember asking you to stay and your promising—”

  “What else?”

  “You kissed me. Or I kissed you. And—more.” Her blush was endearing. Slowly she walked over to him, her eyes holding his with her hypnotic gaze. When she was standing directly in front of him, she reached up, her hands moving tantalizingly up over his chest to his shoulders, then to his neck as she pulled him closer until his lips were within inches of hers. Then she closed the gap, pressing her mouth to his. He could taste the mint flavor of her toothpaste that had replaced the flavor of the cognac.