"I don't know. We have a lot of lost time to make up for, don't we?"
His voice held a tremor as he declared, "But we will, babe, we will."
"I can't wait. Can you stay for supper tomorrow?"
No matter how much he wanted to, he answered, "I'm afraid not. Beth's got something special planned for the two of us. She's doing the cooking."
"Well, next time, then."
"Next time for sure." Tommy Lee stifled a yawn-he hadn't had much sleep all weekend. "Rachel, I'm exhausted. I've been on the water all day."
But she wasn't ready to give him up yet. "Are you in the bedroom?" she asked.
"Yes, staring at the ceiling and picturing you as you were Friday night."
"Our bedroom?" she inquired softly.
"Yes… our bedroom."
"What's it like?"
"It's carpeted in blue to match the lake. The whole west wall is glass, and it's the only room in the house with draperies-they're the color of the sand on the beach. There's a king-size bed with a spread that's striped and kind of 371 soft."
"What's it made of?"
"Made of?" He rolled his head to check it out, smiling at the questions women came up with. "Hell, I don't know. It's got stitches all over it."
"It's quilted, you mean?"
"I guess so."
"Well, if I'm going to sleep there I have to know these things. Go on. Tell me more."
As teenagers, late at night after curfew, they used to talk on the phone like this-lazy inanities, unimportant chatter meant to do nothing more than delay the inevitable goodbye. Tommy Lee smiled, assessed the room, and imagined her entering it for the first time. "Across from the foot of the bed is a fireplace smaller than the one downstairs and with an arched opening. And do you remember once years and years ago when you told me you liked rocking chairs?"
"No, did I?"
"Well, there are two of them, big fat things covered with some kind of fuzzy blue stuff, one on either side of the fireplace. There's a walk-in closet big enough to put your whole store into." She chuckled appreciatively and he went on. "And beside the closet door is a valet chair with nothing on it at all right now. Everything's neatly put away."
There wasn't even a hint of laughter as she sighed. "Oh, Tommy Lee, I love you. I can't wait to live there with you."
At her confession his heart cracked like a flag in high wind, and he experienced the renewed wonder of dreams coming true.
"Tell me again, Rachel-I still have trouble believing it."
"I love you," she whispered.
He closed his eyes, absently running his free hand over the quilted spread as if it were her skin. "I want us to get married as soon as possible."
"I do, too. Did you tell Beth we want to?"
His eyes opened to study the ceiling again, and the hand that had been stroking the spread rested with its wrist against his forehead. "No, not yet."
"So she really is upset about the other night?"
"I'm afraid so."
"I should have thought of her. How selfish of me to keep you here overnight."
"You'd have played hell trying to get me to leave-don't you know that?" She laughed, but the sound was slightly strained. He drew a deep breath and went on, "Don't worry about Beth. I'll tell her soon. Then I want the two of you to meet. Properly. Out here at the house where we're all going to make it as a family. We are, Rachel, I swear it," he pledged intensely. Then, as if sealing a vow, he added prophetically, "Tommy Lee and Rachel and Beth."
"I'll hang on to that thought," she promised. "And I'll see you tomorrow at five."
The clock seemed to crawl as the following afternoon waned. Just before closing, Rachel stepped into the washroom to check her hair, dust her cheeks with blusher, touch a wisp of scent to her throat, and apply fresh rosy gloss to her lips.
In fifteen minutes I'll be with him again.
Her heart felt borne aloft by a bevy of butterflies. Life was a constant surprise. Who ever would have said one week ago that she would be experiencing this resurgent zest that lit her eyes, put a lilt in her step, and made her press a hand to her heart, as if to hold it captive within her body? And all this at the mere thought of Tommy Lee Gentry.
It was uncanny how one could revert to self-indulgent daydreaming when smitten by love, no matter what one's age. All day long she'd been wondering what he'd be wearing, what he'd say when he first saw her, fantasizing about their first kiss, making love, and following it up with an intimate talk, snuggled close in a nest of pillows.
His Blazer was in the driveway when she pulled around the corner and depressed the activator for the automatic garage door. He got out and stood with his hands on his hips, watching her drive past him into the garage. He was dressed in tight tan jeans, white leather tennis shoes and a sporty baby-blue pullover with a V-neck. The first thing he said was "Come here." He had opened her car door and was waiting to haul her into his arms even before she captured her purse from the seat. They stood in the wedge of the open car door, her arms clinging to his neck, her breasts buried against his hard chest, kissing recklessly, murmuring in the wordless, insatiable way of lovers who'd thought this moment would never come.
His tongue was hot and insistent as it roved the contours of her mouth, and hers brought an answering urgency as it tasted and tantalized. His hands spread wide, covering her back with demanding caresses before dropping low to ride her hips, then the curve of her buttocks as their bodies pressed together in anticipation, then swayed from side to side in an age-old message of accord.
Their heads slanted, changing directions as their mouths remained locked, open and impatient. His hand cupped her breast and hers found his naked back, slipping beneath the ribbed waistband of his sweater onto the warm flesh. His thumb rubbed her nipple and she shivered and thrust her tongue more forcefully into his mouth. She ran her hands over the back pockets of his jeans, drawing him as close as possible, holding him as he'd held her a moment ago.
When at last the initial rush of possessiveness had been accommodated, they drew apart, found each other's eyes, then clung again, rapturously.
"My God, did you ever think it could be this way again?" he asked breathlessly.
"Never! I've felt like a teenager all day!"
Again he backed away to look into her radiant eyes. "You, too?"
She smiled and nodded a little sheepishly. Then they were laughing and holding hands as he impatiently hauled her after him toward the back door. He flung it wide and tugged her inside behind him, both of them giddy, giggly, and slightly flushed… and came up short at the sight of Callie Mae, spreading chocolate frosting on a pan of brownies.
The older woman swung around, her eyes flew wide, and she gave a chortle of amusement. "Well, I declare, if it ain't that nasty li'l Tommy Lee Gentry, used to come snitchin' my cookies just before suppertime."
Tommy Lee and Rachel gaped at the maid, then at each other, then burst out laughing again before Tommy Lee lunged across the room to give the woman a bone-crushing hug. "Callie Mae, you crusty old despot-damn, it's good to see you!"
She backed off to adore him with glistening eyes while his hands pressed her thick waist.
"Lord, Lord, but ain't you a sight for these tired old eyes-you and Miss Rachel, come a-laughin' in the way you used to." A tear plumped on her eyelid as she hugged him again, and Rachel looked on with glowing eyes. Suddenly Callie Mae pulled back and her heavy pink lips took on a scolding pout. "Been wonderin' when the two o' you would come to your senses."
Tommy Lee cocked one eyebrow and suppressed a grin. "Oh, you have, have you?"
She turned back to her brownies, giving an indignant sniff, while Tommy Lee's and Rachel's eyes met and shared an instant of powerful nostalgia. Memories tumbled back, of another time, another kitchen, two sun-drenched children scampering in to the gruff but loving maid who, like them, never questioned their rightful place together. Washed now in Callie Mae's benediction-the first, after facing so much opposition-they felt ho
peful and ebullient. It was like stepping into a scene in which the action had been frozen twenty-four years ago and had been waiting all that time for them to walk on stage and bring about a happy conclusion.
Tommy Lee looped an arm around Callie Mae's shoulders and turned his attention toward the counter. "What're you cookin' up there, darlin'?"
"Why, just one o' your favorites. My prize-winnin' chocolate brownies with plenty of pecans, just how you like 'em."
"Whoo-ee!" He licked his lips. "Them's mighty hard to resist." Tommy Lee pointedly checked his watch, then let a grin crawl up one corner of his mouth. "And besides, it's a whole hour before supper." He snatched the spatula from Callie Mae's fingers and dug a bar from the corner of the pan, lifting it to lick an icicle of fresh frosting that oozed over the edge.
Callie Mae laughed, gave him a playful swat, and nodded in Rachel's direction. "You wanna do something, you git her to eat brownies. She's the one needs 'em!"
Tommy Lee turned around, smiling.
Rachel chuckled and said to him, "See what I've been putting up with all these years?"
"Mmm… Callie Mae is kind of mouthy, all right. She might not work out after all."
"She might not. On the other hand, I am rather used to her outspokenness. And you'll have to admit, she is a pretty decent cook."
Tommy Lee swallowed his mouthful of brownie and shrugged indifferently. "Yeah, these are all right, I guess."
"All right?" Callie Mae exploded, swinging around with her hands on her hips.
Tommy Lee took another nonchalant bite, grinned at Rachel, and asked teasingly, "Think we should tell her?" He wandered over and held the brownie to her lips.
She took a nibble, grinned, and returned conspiratorially, "I don't know. What do you think? Should we?"
"Tell me what?" Callie Mae insisted.
Rachel took a bigger bite of brownie and the frosting fell in a string down her lip. She reached up to swipe at it, but Tommy Lee waylaid her hand, then held the wrist while leaning forward to lick the frosting off. Without removing his eyes from Rachel's, he smiled and answered Callie Mae, "Might be a new job opening up for you."
"A new…?..." But Callie Mae's lips fell open and her eyes sparkled with speculation as she watched Tommy Lee lean down and place a lingering kiss on Rachel's uplifted mouth, the brownie all but forgotten in his fingertips.
He lifted his head lazily, and still gazing into Rachel's eyes, added, "Out at my place."
Callie Mae's beaming eyes rested on the two she'd loved for so long, as Rachel rose up to brush Tommy Lee's lips once more, then added dreamily, "Working for both of us."
Callie Mae rolled her eyes heavenward, threw her hands wide, and exclaimed, "Lord o' mercy… at last!" She watched them kiss again, and when they drew apart, they seemed to have forgotten anyone else in the room. "Hmph!" Callie Mae snorted. "I can see there ain't no need for me to hang around here no longer. Act like I don't count for nothin'…" She grumbled on in mock reprimand while whipping off her apron. "Person ain't never done teachin' children their manners… fine thing, bein' ignored." She threw open a pantry door, hung up the apron with a flourish, and swept up her purse. She was still muttering as the door slammed behind her.
At the sound, the pair in the kitchen seemed to come awake. They glanced at the door, then at each other, and laughed while Rachel flung her arms about Tommy Lee's neck.
"Everyone will know now," she said.
"Do you care?" he asked against her hair.
"No. All I care about is you… us. I missed you so much."
"I missed you, too… every minute."
Their mouths met again eagerly as he reached out blindly to set the brownie on the counter. His fingers were coated with chocolate, and when he lifted his heads to impatiently lick off a thumb she captured the hand and carried it from his pursed lips to her own, meticulously laving each finger, slipping it into her mouth with sensual slowness, aroused by the salt-sweet taste of him, by the heavy, hooded look that overtook his eyes as he watched. When the fingers were clean she ran her tongue down the palm of his hand and bit its heel, while his relaxed fingertips rested on her closed eyes. She kissed his wrist, the metal band of his watch warm beneath her lips, then moved beyond it to the soft warm skin of his inner elbow.
Suddenly he pulled her head to his chest, groaning softly, and beneath her ear she heard his pounding heart as his fingers plowed through her hair to contour her skull and cradle her head possessively.
She felt an outpouring of love, far too powerful to be voiced. And as she raised her eyes to his, she saw it returned a thousandfold. They stood close, caught in the shaft of late-afternoon sun melting through the window. It glinted off the golden rim of his glasses, scintillated from her open lips, gilded the gray above his ears. Had they loved this fully at sixteen? Perhaps it had seemed so then. But in this moment as they stood bound together by feelings so profound as to be voiceless, their lorn love of long ago seemed paltry by comparison.
She reached both hands up to slip off his glasses and set them beside the brownie on the counter. His hands clasped her jaws as his mouth descended-open, hungry, purposeful. Her answering lunge and lift were all he needed before his fingers trembled over buttons, hooks, and zippers, and they knew again the swift swelling of sexual appetite, appeasing it with little thought of time or place. In moments they stood among scattered articles of clothing, pressing their naked bodies together, exulting. He lifted her to his waist and her legs twined about his hips, the vacant core of her femininity seeking only one restitution: to be filled by him. The contact was sleek, immediate, and restorative as their bodies reunited and their arms clenched possessively.
He perched her on the edge of the counter, and the sun burned warm on her shoulders as his lean hands parenthesized her hips. Dark eyes captured and held hers. Lips parted. Breath mingled. The movement began.
And in moments Rachel and Tommy Lee shared that glorious outpouring of body and soul found only by the very lucky-by those who bring unquestioning love to the act. When their matched cries echoed through the kitchen, she held his head to her breast and sighed in repletion.
His shoulders were damp-she brushed the sheen from them.
His heartbeat was uneven-she pressed a palm to it.
His eyelids were closed-she kissed them.
And in the end he stayed for a late, late supper.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
A week passed, during which Rachel and Tommy Lee had only stolen hours together whenever possible, but "stealing" time left them dissatisfied and impatient. Only one thing happened that brought them smiles. Tommy Lee had to make an unexpected overnight trip, and before leaving town he stalked, unannounced, into Panache, crossed straight to Rachel, and dropped a heedless kiss on her mouth. "Hello, darling. I've got to fly to Atlanta and I won't be back till tomorrow. Thought I'd better let you know before I left."
Verda stood taking it all in, her jaw hanging slack.
"Atlanta?"
"Uh-huh. I'm on my way to the airport now." Oddly enough, Rachel didn't even consider subterfuge. She merely removed her reading glasses, left her desk, and followed his impatient figure to the door.
"Business?" she asked.
"Yes. Some land I've been thinking about buying that somebody else has suddenly taken an interest in. I'd rather not go right now, but it can't be helped. If anything comes up, you can reach me at the Sheraton. Okay?" He was already reaching for the doorknob.
"Okay. Have a safe trip. I'll see you when you get back."
Distractedly he dropped a parting kiss on her mouth while she held the door open, and then he left in a rush.
When he called her, late that night, she casually mentioned, "You threw Verda into major shock when you came sashaying into the shop that way and kissed me."
His laughter came across the wire. Then he asked, "What'd she say?"
Now it was Rachel's turn to laugh. "Are you sure you want to know?"
"Of course. You've piqued
my interest."
"She said, `I thought he wasn't pesterin' you!`"
When his second round of laughter died, Tommy Lee asked teasingly, "Am I pesterin' you, Rachel?"
"You bet. Please hurry home so we can get on with it."
But their bit of mirth at Verda's expense was the only lighthearted escape they shared during those days when intimacy was denied them. He returned the following evening straight to her arms as if he'd been gone a fortnight. They shared a quick and frenzied reunion. Then he tore himself away, declaring he had to get home and spend some time with Beth, especially since he had missed the supper she'd painstakingly prepared for him several nights earlier plus several others, and had found little time to devote to her since.
"I'm sorry, Rachel. I'd like to stay longer, but I'd better go home and try to smooth the waters."
"You don't have to apologize, darling. I understand. But don't you think it would be better if you introduced the two of us so that she can see I'm not trying to snatch her father and lure him away from her?"
He smiled and squeezed her arms. "You're right."
But she could see he was apprehensive about it. "When?"
He drew a deep breath and seemed to pluck an answer from the air before he could change his mind. "This weekend. When the dragon isn't around."
But one day before the weekend, the shop door opened and Rachel glanced up to find three teenage girls entering. Since her merchandise was targeted chiefly at mature middle-income women, girls of this age rarely shopped at Panache. She smiled a welcome. Then her heart seemed to pause in trepidation as she recognized Beth as one of the three, though Beth didn't give Rachel so much as a glance.
She had a pretty little face, and Tommy Lee's mouth, but her attractiveness was spoiled by a smug expression as she sauntered into the store with her giddy friends. They were obviously in one of those abhorrent adolescent moods that can seize a band of normally polite teenage girls and change them into rude little minxes who delight in disdaining anything smacking of middle-aged maturity.
They were a little too loud and disruptively brash as they invaded the store, plucking at this item and that, dropping them in distaste and making faces at one another that sent them into spasms of laughter.
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