by Carol Grace
As much as she’d interested him in California’s history, he was quite aware that she lived in the past too much. He didn’t intend to get married. She didn’t plan on it, but he thought she probably would. Why not? She would make some man happy with her lively imagination, her stories of the past, her enthusiasm for the present and her willingness to try new things. Like swimming, flirting and kissing and whatever it led to. She’d make someone a great companion, wife, lover and friend.
Despite all the reasons for backing off, there was that eager wide-eyed look on her face that said yes, yes, yes, and suddenly all his scruples were gone, as well as all the negative thoughts racing around his head. He threw caution to the winds and kissed her again. A kiss, that’s all it was.
No sweet, exploratory kiss this time. They only had a week together. Might as well make the most of it. This time he angled his mouth and kissed her so hard and so thoroughly she leaned backward, farther and farther until her head was on the blanket. He fell foreword, bracing his arms on either side of her shoulders.
Then she kissed him back. Sarah, the shy, quiet, introverted historian, brushed her lips against his and then shyly slid her tongue into his mouth. He felt like he was on fire.
“Sarah?” he muttered. As if he wasn’t sure it was her.
Her answer was to wrap her arms around his neck, pull him to her and bury her face in the curve of his jaw. He kissed the tender spot below her ear, he trailed kisses along her cheek, until his lips met hers again.
With his body on top of hers, every hard masculine angle pressed into her soft curves, Sarah had never felt so small, so feminine and so desirable. She’d never felt so alive, either, every nerve, every molecule on fire. She wished she could get closer to him, but little twigs and small stones were embedded into her back, right through her shirt. Not that she cared. She was beyond thinking, beyond caring what happened. All she knew was that she’d never felt this way before.
They rolled over. Now she was on top of him. He grinned up at her, his eyes silvery-gray She felt the heat from his body, his warm breath on her face. So this was what it was all about. This was what she’d been missing all her life. If she’d only known.
She couldn’t believe she was doing this. She had never imagined she could be the object of somebody’s wild desire. She felt beautiful and sexy. It was all because of him. She was twenty-five years old and she was falling in love. Falling in love? In three days? Impossible. Falling in lust was more like it.
He kissed her again and she kissed him back. Again and again. Faster and harder and more intense with each kiss. She was no longer worried about her technique or lack of it. No longer worried about the future or if there was one. The only thing that worried her was that he might stop. All she cared about was him and the present. About the way his mouth felt on hers, and the way his hand felt reaching under her shirt, caressing the bare skin of her stomach and tracing the outline of her breasts.
She moaned deep in her throat and wondered where that sound came from. It couldn’t be her. Not strait-laced, virginal Sarah who’d hardly ever been kissed, let alone ravished on a grassy field by a man she scarcely knew. Her skin burned, her body ached and cried out for more.
She hated the barriers between them. She wanted to rip off her clothes and his, too. She didn’t. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. But oh, how she wanted to.
It was all so perfect. The smell of fresh grass, the scent of wildflowers and the sun filtering through the leaves. Like a scene out of that movie she’d been fantasizing. Somewhere a woodpecker was high in the oak tree above them hammering away. Just like her heart was hammering against her ribs.
Even louder was the blood pounding in her ears. The voice inside her that repeated urgently, now, now, now. Until the sound of voices came from out of nowhere and silenced that voice in her head. Children’s voices and their footsteps. Max heard them, too. She wrenched herself away from him, rolled over and lay flat on her back in the grass, one hand over her eyes. He was lying next to her, panting, gasping for breath. So was she.
She sat up, yanked her shirt down and brushed the grass and twigs off her pants. Just in time. They came marching around the bend, at least a dozen little kids, wearing red T-shirts with the name of a nursery school stenciled on the front, stopping at the edge of the pond, their little voices echoing across the water.
These were little children, little impressionable children who would have most certainly been shocked if they’d seen two adults rolling around in the grass, tearing at each others’ clothes. On the verge of whatever it was they were on the verge of. Sarah shivered at the thought. What would they have done if the group hadn’t arrived?
What would her boss have thought? What would her parents have thought? What would Aunt Mary have done if she’d known what a simple neighborly act had led to? Maybe this was what she’d had in mind. Maybe this was what she wanted to happen.
The kids stopped at the pond and threw food to the ducks. In actuality, they hardly bothered to look at the two adults who were sitting or rather sprawling on a blanket, the remains of a picnic lunch tossed to one side and an empty wine bottle on its side.
Sarah sat on the blanket, her chin resting on her knees drawn up in front of her, staring unseeing at the kids and the ducks, and taking deep cleansing breaths as she tried to feel normal again. Not that she really wanted to go back to her normal life.
As for Max, she was afraid to turn and look at him. The last time she looked, he appeared to be comatose.
“Time to go?” she asked, in what she hoped was her ordinary voice.
He didn’t answer, he just sat up and stuffed the leftovers into the grocery bag, then silently got to his feet. She didn’t know what he was thinking. Was he sorry they’d come here? Was he even sorrier he’d lost his head and made a scene in a public park?
Back in the car, he drove slowly back to town. He didn’t speak. Neither did she. The silence was painful. She racked her brain for something to say. Her mind was blank.
“Sarah,” he said at last. “We have to talk.”
Chapter Ten
But his cell phone rang before he could say whatever it was he was going to say. All the way home he talked to a client about her divorce. Sarah didn’t want to hear about the woman’s problems. From what she could hear, Max was all ears, treating her with kid gloves, sympathizing with her position and promising to get her everything she deserved. No wonder he was so good at his job. So good it was depressing.
From the one side of the conversation she heard she gathered that the woman had been dumped and was in the depths of despair. It was disturbing to think of some poor woman struggling to make ends meet just because she had been discarded like yesterday’s trash. Lucky for her, she could afford a high-priced lawyer like Max.
But what if she had no money, did Max take on such cases? Did he take them on spec? At the end of the conversation she heard him set up an appointment with the woman for that afternoon at his house. He hung up just as he pulled into his driveway. Sarah wanted to ask him about the case. But of course it was none of her business. He was probably sworn to secrecy because of attorney-client privilege.
In a way she was grateful for the phone call. It meant she didn’t have to hear what Max had to say to her. She could only imagine what it would be.
I didn’t mean for that to happen.
It was my fault. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I shouldn’t have suggested a picnic.
You’re a very attractive woman, but…
We shouldn’t see each other again for obvious reasons.
You were right about your aunt. I was only doing this because she asked me to.
All Sarah wanted was to get out of the car, run inside her house and close the door behind her.
Which was exactly what she did.
When she turned to look back over her shoulder, she saw he was standing in his driveway, watching her go, a strange look on his face. The look could have meant any number of things. What Sara
h thought was that it was one of relief. She knew just how he felt because she felt the same.
She went back to her computer and stared at images of adobe houses and the missions of California, each mission constructed one-day’s horseback ride from the other. Many of them still intact, now turned into museums visited by thousands of tourists every year. She’d been to them all, taken pictures of them, steeped herself in the atmosphere, until she knew how it would have felt to have been a Spanish missionary or a Native American pressed into servitude, to work the fields around the mission, to paint the church or to try to run away from an alien culture.
Usually that’s all it took to get her fired up. Not today. Even though she knew she had a whole chapter to write by the end of the week for the pamphlet published by the historical society, she couldn’t write a word. All she could think about was Max and how he looked bending over her in the dappled sunlight.
If it hadn’t been for the children, what would have happened? Surely she would have come to her senses and jumped to her feet and put a stop to it. Or would she? Was she so enamored, so blown away by this man, she would have risked her reputation by making love on the grass? Of course not. She wouldn’t make love to anyone unless she was serious about him, and Max Monroe was not going to get serious about her or anyone.
She got up and walked around the house, trying to stay away from the windows that faced his house. She knew she was being silly. Nothing had happened except for a little picnic and a little flirtation. If she were an ordinary woman, accustomed to such things, she’d go back outside, lie in the sun on a chaise lounge in the patio, and give a casual wave to the man across the fence.
Instead she paced around the house like a caged tiger. She needed an excuse to stop working. She was tired of sitting there, staring at the screen, feeling like a different person than the historian who got her biggest kick out of reading, writing and living history.
What had happened to that woman? She’d been replaced by a sex-crazed zombie who wanted a man she couldn’t have. Why didn’t she lust over one of her colleagues, one who admired her mind? Someone who she could communicate with on an intellectual level.
Why? Because they were dull, dull, dull. Considering all they had in common with her, it was strange that she still had no desire to hang out with them and talk history after work. Talking history with Max was different. Though he claimed to know nothing about the subject, he acted like he was interested in everything she told him.
His interest seemed genuine, and his attention inspired her to make the stories even more interesting. But what if this was all Aunt Mary’s doing? What if she’d made sure he knew what would appeal to her? She thought he’d have to be a really good actor to fake the smile on his face, the eager look in his eyes and the questions he asked her.
Still, he didn’t have to as far as he had. He didn’t have to give her swimming lessons or kiss her in the park. All he had to do was to be polite. He’d gone way beyond that.
The phone rang and she was grateful for the interruption. She was tired of reading and writing though she’d done precious little of it for the last few days. It seemed the more fun she had, the more fun she wanted to have.
“I just called to see how the presentation went,” Trudy said.
Sarah assured her everything had gone well. The kids were well-behaved, they asked good questions and she’d enjoyed it too. “Except for the dress. It was so tight I could hardly breathe.”
“Really? I sent it out to be cleaned and it must have shrunk.” Her voice trembled.
“Are you all right?” Sarah asked, alarmed. Maybe she was sicker than she’d admitted.
“Actually I…I didn’t want to say anything, but…”
“Yes, what is it?” Now Sarah was really worried. Trudy never took any sick leave. She seemed in excellent physical and mental health. She was generous with her time and her praise, but always very professional. Her boss had never discussed anything outside of work with her. But Sarah had seen pictures on her desk of Trudy and her husband and their dog. A perfect family.
Trudy burst into tears on the other end of the phone.
“What’s wrong?” Sarah asked, gripping the phone tightly.
“It’s Graham. He…he wants a divorce.”
“What? But I thought…”
“You thought we had the perfect marriage. So did I. But Graham didn’t. He’s found someone else—” Trudy broke off and sobbed loudly. When she caught her breath, she continued. “After twenty-seven years. I don’t know what to do. What to say. I feel, I’ve never felt this way before. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be crying on your shoulder, Sarah, after all, it’s not your problem.”
Sarah was shocked. All this time, all these years she’d worked at the society, Trudy had been the very picture of control, the epitome of calm and serious professionalism. Here she was, calling Sarah and spilling her most private problems. Maybe it was easier to tell someone you worked with rather than a family member or a close friend. Sarah didn’t know what to say, except how sorry she was.
She had a million questions to ask. What about money? Do you have a good lawyer? There was a question she could ask, that she should ask.
“I haven’t talked to a lawyer yet,” Trudy said weakly. “It’s all been so sudden. I don’t want to make things worse by getting a lawyer. Especially not a shark. You know how lawyers are.”
Sarah murmured something noncommittal. She only knew one lawyer, and her impression of lawyers was clouded by his personality. He was lively, interesting, interested in her, and very very attractive. He made her feel like a desirable woman. But what was he really like as a lawyer? He was a shark, that much was obvious. He had to be if he was as successful as he seemed.
“The minute you get a lawyer,” Trudy continued, “it turns into an adversarial situation. They make demands. And you lose control. The situation gets uncomfortable and maybe even messy. I’m hoping we can work this out. Stay together. If not, I want to be friends, even if the worst happens…even if—” She broke off and Sarah thought she was crying again.
“I understand what you’re saying,” Sarah said. “But you have to protect yourself. The man next door is a divorce lawyer. He seems very successful. Why don’t I ask him…I mean just get his advice. Because if Graham has a lawyer, you don’t want to be at a disadvantage.” Was that Sarah talking? Sounding like Max himself?
“Don’t go out of your way,” Trudy mumbled. “I’ll be fine. I’m sure I will.”
Which just made Sarah more determined to help her boss.
“I’ll see what I can find out and I’ll call you back,” Sarah said.
“Call me on my cell phone. I’m staying at my sister’s. I just had to get away. I couldn’t stand sleeping in our bed by myself while Graham slept downstairs.”
“Of course,” Sarah said. Fortunately Trudy had a sister. Then why was she confiding in Sarah? At a time like this, she assumed most people wouldn’t be thinking clearly. They needed a friend who wasn’t biased. They also needed someone on their side. In other words, they needed a lawyer. Of that Sarah was pretty sure.
But was it self-interest that made her think of offering to ask Max to take Trudy’s case? Was she rushing over to his house because she wanted to see him or was it really to help Trudy? She didn’t bother to mull this question over. She hung up with a promise to get back to Trudy right away with something, anything that might help her.
Then Sarah raced out the back door, into the bright sunlight, through the gate and up to Max’s patio doors which were wide-open. She stood on the threshold for a moment, blinking as her eyes got accustomed to the cool shady interior.
There were voices coming from somewhere inside the house. In her haste, Sarah had forgotten that Max had an appointment that afternoon. She stood there, one hand in the air, ready to knock on the door frame.
“I don’t know what to do,” a woman said. “I feel so helpless, so alone. You’re the only one I can count on, Max.”
> “Now, Arlene, that’s not true. You have friends, family…”
“But I don’t have Charlie.” Her sobs rang out through the house.
“I can’t bring him back to you.”
“I know, I know. What went wrong?”
“I don’t know. Do you want me to talk to him?”
“He won’t listen. He knows you’re on my side. He’s got a lawyer, too. I hate it. I hate it.”
“Yes, I know.” Max said. “Don’t cry, Arlene, I’ll do my best for you.” Then there was a long silence. Sarah wondered if Max had put his arms around his client. If he was comforting her. If that was his modus operandi. He was good at hugging and kissing. Sarah knew that much. Did she think she was the only one he hugged? Of course not.
“Thank you, Max. That’s all I ask. Because your best is better than anyone else’s.” The woman’s voice was shaky and muffled. Was that because her face was pressed into Max’s chest? Was that because he was drying her tears? Or kissing her gently on the lips?
Sarah craned her neck, shamelessly trying to look around to see what was going on. But Max and his client were nowhere to be seen. Probably in the living room. Sarah had no idea what the layout of the house was. He’d never invited her in. Was that deliberate or just that he hadn’t had a chance?
She didn’t know whether to go or stay. She didn’t know how long these conferences lasted. Finally she decided to stay, for Trudy’s sake. After all, this was a business call of sorts. Trudy might want to hire Max. If these women were right, and he was the best, she ought to hire him, no matter how much she didn’t want to upset the relationship between her and her husband.
Sarah waited until she heard a car pull out of Max’s driveway, then she knocked determinedly on the patio door.
