Calamity Mom

by Diana Palmer

  He turned to her when they were along a sheltered bit of beach, elegant in his white dinner jacket and dark slacks. He seemed bigger somehow, towering over her, unsmiling.

  “You came with me,” he reminded her. “I didn’t drag you here by the hand.”

  “I know.” Her voice was almost drowned out by the crashing of the surf. She searched his dark eyes in the faint light. “I’m not taking anything,” she said abruptly.

  He drew in a long breath. “Shelly, we can’t make love to each other here. And I can’t take you to my room because Ben might decide to come back on his own, without Nan.” He caught her shoulders in his lean, warm hands and drew her to him. “You’re a virgin,” he whispered softly, drowning her in his strength and the drugging, delicious scent of masculine cologne as he moved closer. “I’m not quite that much of a rogue…”

  His mouth opened as it touched hers, teasing her lips apart. He felt them tremble softly as he began to increase the pressure of his mouth. She moaned, pressing against him, and he felt his body react sharply to her proximity.

  She tensed and started to draw back, but his hand swept down to the base of her spine, gently preventing the withdrawal.

  “You’re safe,” he whispered into her mouth. “This feels good. Don’t ask me to stop.”

  It felt good to her, too, but it was embarrassing. She tried to tell him, but his mouth became slowly invasive, and she clung to him as the intimacy of the kiss grew suddenly and exploded into something approximating possession.

  He felt her nails through the thick fabric of his jacket. He wanted to feel them on his skin.

  With a rough sound, his hand moved between them, his knuckles brushing over the tops of her breasts as he worked at fastenings. Seconds later, he coaxed her hands into the thick mat of hair that covered him and let her caress him.

  “Oh, God, it isn’t enough,” he whispered shakily, his mouth harder now, hungrier. “Shelly!”

  His mouth covered hers again. He moved the thin straps of her dress away from her shoulders and abruptly stripped her to the waist with deft, economic movements of his hands. Before she could utter a protest, he had her against him, inside the folds of his shirt and jacket, her breasts rubbing with exciting abrasion against his bare skin.

  His thumbs caressed her breasts while he kissed her, his teeth nibbling, his tongue probing deeply. She was trembling and so was he, and the surf was hardly louder than their erratic heartbeats.

  “Please!” she sobbed against his mouth.

  He barely heard her. His body throbbed where hers touched it. His hands were possessing her, exploring her exquisite softness in a silence that was total and overwhelming. None of the differences between them mattered when they were this close. He’d never felt this way. Not even with his late wife when he was in the throes of first love.

  He lifted his head a few inches and looked into her rapt, vulnerable face.

  “If you were on the pill,” he said roughly. “Would you let me?”

  “I don’t know.” She rested her forehead on his chest, shivering with reaction. “It’s a big step. I’ve always believed that it belongs in marriage, between two people who are committed to each other for life.” She lifted her eyes to his. “Is that unrealistic, in a world where love is nothing more than a euphemism for sex?”

  “What a profound question.” He smiled, but a little bleakly. “I’m not the one to ask. Anyway,” he added with a forced note of humor, “where would we make love? This is hardly a deserted place, and Nan and my son are in your room. If we went to mine…” He sighed heavily. “I couldn’t. I want to, and if you were even faintly experienced, I would. But this isn’t for you, Shelly. As I’ve already told you, I have nothing else to offer.”

  She pressed her cheek against the warm, heavily throbbing flesh of his chest. The thick hairs tickled her nose as they stood together in the semidarkness, unspeaking.

  “If I were older,” she began. “Richer…”

  “You’d still be a virgin,” he replied simply. “And I’ve had all I want of marriage.” He tilted her chin up to his eyes. “I’ll regret this night until I die.”

  “That you kissed me?”

  He shook his head. “Oh, no. That I couldn’t strip you down to your silky skin and ease you under me, here in the sand,” he whispered, tracing her soft, swollen lips. “As intensely as we want each other, I don’t think I’d ever hurt you.”

  She nibbled on his thin upper lip, her fingers stabbing into the hair that covered him. “It would take a long time, wouldn’t it?” she whispered. “For me, I mean.”

  “Yes.” He kissed her back, lazily, tenderly. His hands found her soft breasts and caressed them in a warm silence.

  “They feel good.”

  “What?”

  “Your hands on my skin,” she said at his lips. “Do it…harder.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  He teased around her mouth with the tip of his tongue. “You know why. Your breasts are very delicate, and I’m no sadist. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  She smiled. “It wouldn’t hurt. I meant like this.”

  She guided his thumb and forefinger to the hard, dusky tip and showed him what she wanted. She gasped as it sent a wave of heat through her body.

  “Shelly,” he whispered roughly, “does it make you hot all over when I do that?” he asked at her lips. He asked something else, something very intimate and explicit. “Does it?” he persisted huskily.

  “Yes,” she confessed shyly.

  It wasn’t wise. He knew it, even as he bent his head and took the nipple between his teeth. But the sensations she was describing very closely resembled those of fulfillment. It excited him to think he could give her complete ecstasy with such a small demonstration of love play. He had to know…

  When he felt her convulse and cry out in his arms, he groaned and kissed her with slow anguish. He’d never been able to do that to another woman. Was it because she was a virgin that she reacted so violently to his ardor? Or was it something more?

  He lifted his head and she hung in his arms, her body trembling, her face flushed with embarrassed shame.

  He held her up, slowly replacing her bodice and refastening the soft straps. His hands were a little unsteady. He was still blatantly aroused.

  “You shouldn’t have…!” she managed to say, flustered.

  “I think I should.” He tilted her eyes up to his quiet, wise ones. “You do understand what happened?”

  She flushed and averted her eyes. “Well, yes…”

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’re one in a million,” he said, his voice deep and slow and tender. “Most men would kill for a woman as passionate as you.”

  “It’s embarrassing!” she groaned.

  “That you should reach fulfillment because I suckled your breast?” he asked, his voice explicit but somehow comforting. “Shelly, I feel ten feet tall. I’ve never felt so much a man.”

  She looked up, slowly. “You don’t think I’m odd?”

  “I think you’re dynamite.” He smoothed back her disheveled hair with hands that weren’t quite steady even now, although he was less tormented. “I’m flattered that you want me that much.”

  She lowered her eyes to his chest. “But this is all there is.”

  “That’s right.” He held her close for a long time, savoring the scent and feel of her in his arms. “Shelly?”

  “Yes?”

  He kissed her hair. “We’ll always have Paris.”

  Despite her sorrow, she smiled.

  * * *

  THEY WENT HOME the next day. Shelly hadn’t seen Faulkner again, and she hadn’t tried to. She’d said her goodbyes to Ben when they’d returned to her motel room, a little tearfully. Ben had wanted to keep in touch, but Shelly didn’t dare do that. She couldn’t risk having them find out the truth about her background, about her parents. Washington was a big city, and despite her father’s wealth and influence, he was one
of many wealthy investment bankers in the city. She didn’t remember her father ever mentioning Faulkner Scott, so it was unlikely that they knew each other. For the sake of her sanity, she had to keep it that way. After all, Faulkner had admitted that the main problem was his inability to make a commitment. He wanted an affair and she wanted forever. It wasn’t easy to compromise on two such wide viewpoints.

  She was going to miss him. And Ben. She’d lived her whole life without knowing either one of the Scotts, but she knew she’d live the rest of it without forgetting them.

  Nan had noticed her friend’s pallor and unusual quietness, but she hadn’t remarked on it.

  They boarded the plane and with adjoining seats, had time to talk, away from the rest of the students they traveled with.

  “I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you,” Nan told her. “Really sorry. He was a dish, and the boy was special.”

  “Thanks. I’m sorry, too.” She leaned back, closing her eyes. “Nan, if only I were liberated.”

  “You are.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Liberated as in sharing one night of explosive passion and spending the rest of your life living on it?”

  Shelly glared at her. “Stop confusing me.”

  “You don’t live the rest of your life on one night, no matter how explosive it is,” Nan said firmly. “And in that one night, you could catch a disease that would kill you or make you untouchable. You could sacrifice all your principles and have nothing left except the certainty that the man you worshiped felt justified to treat you like a fast-food plate.”

  “A fast-food plate?”

  “Something you use to feed yourself from and then throw away.”

  “Nan!”

  “Well, it’s true,” the black girl said firmly. “You won’t catch me risking my life or my health for the sake of a romantic one-night stand. Not me. I’m saving it all up for one lucky man who’s going to thank God daily, on his knees, that I waited just for him.” She leaned close. “That’s romantic.”

  Shelly grimaced. “You have this nasty way of making me feel like pond scum.”

  Nan frowned. “Speaking of pond scum, where’s Pete?”

  “He got on the plane just behind you,” Shelly said, chuckling. “Shame on you for calling him that.”

  “But he is pond scum,” the other woman said seriously. “He seduced one of the freshman girls and then wouldn’t have a thing to do with her the next day.”

  “You’re right. He is pond scum!” Shelly exclaimed.

  “So are a lot of other men, whispering sweet nothings so that they can have their way.”

  “Not all of them,” Shelly said miserably. “There are men who feel protective toward women with no sense of self-preservation.”

  “So that’s why he looked like that last night,” Nan mused dryly.

  “How did he look?”

  “Frustrated. Confused. Puzzled. Delighted,” she added softly. “The way he looked at you when you didn’t see him!” She sighed. “Oh, Shelly. If you’d had another week together, there would have been wedding bells.”

  “I’m afraid not. He doesn’t want to get married.”

  “What man does?”

  Shelly closed her eyes. “Well, it doesn’t matter, does it? Spring break is over and I’ll never see him again.”

  “He knows that you go to Thorn College,” Nan remarked. “And he lives in D.C., too.”

  “It won’t matter.” Shelly said it with conviction, but deep inside, she hoped she was wrong….

  * * *

  THE SEMESTER WAS FINALLY OVER, and Shelly went home to sweat out her grades until the registrar notified her on what they were. She felt pretty confident about her subjects, but she always worried.

  “Darling, must you wear that dress?” her mother muttered.

  “It’s perfectly respectable…”

  “It’s so old-fashioned, Shelly,” Mrs. Astor replied, glaring at the deep blue velvet gown that covered Shelly from neck to toes, except where it dipped seductively in the back.

  Tonia Astor wore a black silk dress that flattered her still-youthful body, helping the contrast between her naturally black hair and its streak of pure silver. She looked elegant and chic, which she was. Shelly despaired of ever having her mother’s unshakable poise at society gatherings.

  The Astors were giving a gala party tonight in honor of a new president at one of the banks where Bart Astor was a member of the board of directors. Shelly had been persuaded into helping her mother hostess. She had no excuse, because she wasn’t going to attend summer semester at the school.

  “You’ve just been on holiday,” her mother reminded her. “This is just a small get-together, darling. You’ll enjoy yourself. It’s time you stopped this silly college idea and got married. Charles is a delightful man, very settled and influential.”

  “Charles is a bore. He likes to quote stock averages to me.”

  “He’s settled,” her mother repeated.

  “He should be, he lives with his mother.”

  “Shelly, really! Oh, there’s Ted.”

  Her mother moved away, dragging Shelly with her across the crowded room where a full orchestra was playing. With her upswept salon coiffure and discreet but expensive sapphire choker and matching bracelet, Shelly’s subdued elegance matched the tone of the party.

  “Ted Dumaris,” Tonia exclaimed, taking both his hands in hers. “So nice to see you again!” she added, totally unaware of Shelly’s shocked expression and sudden panic as a tall, dark-haired man with a familiar thin brunette in tow made their way through the crowd to Antonia Astor and Shelly. “And is this the daughter you were telling me about?” she exclaimed with enthusiasm.

  “Yes, this is my Marie and her…our…friend, Faulkner Scott. This is Antonia Astor.”

  Faulkner’s expression was faintly curious. He hadn’t seen Shelly, standing just to the side and behind her mother. He was obviously connecting the name.

  “How lovely of you to have invited us,” Marie was gushing to Antonia. “I adore your home. So impressive!”

  Shelly wasn’t impressed. Marie’s fawning made her nauseous. And seeing Faulkner again wasn’t helping.

  “Where’s Shelly? Oh, there you are, darling, do come and be introduced. She’s a college freshman, you know, at twenty-four! We were absolutely horrified…!”

  Her mother rambled on, but Shelly wasn’t listening to the explanations or introductions. She was lost in Faulkner’s glittering silver eyes. He stared at her with shock and dawning realization, barely aware of her mother or his surroundings.

  “Twenty-four?” he asked gruffly.

  “Yes, isn’t she ancient to be starting college?” Tonia laughed. “But she has a high grade point average and we’re very proud. What do you do, Ms. Dumaris?” she asked Marie.

  “When she isn’t looking down her nose at other people, I expect she goes to parties, don’t you, Ms. Dumaris?” Shelly, diverted, fixed her cold blue gaze on the shaken older woman. “Ms. Dumaris mentioned just recently that she could use her influence to have me booted out of college.”

  “Shelly,” Tonia began uncertainly, because she’d never seen her daughter lose her temper.

  Marie swallowed, blushing and back-stepping. “I never meant it that way!” She laughed nervously, chattering. “I’m sure you must have misunderstood me!”

  “I didn’t misunderstand a single word, unfortunately for you.”

  She turned her back on Marie and her eyes found Charles. She motioned to him, ignoring Faulkner and Marie’s almost pitiable attempts to smooth over her vicious attitude in Daytona Beach with Shelly’s mother.

  Shelly caught tall blond Charles by the hand and turned to face the others. Her face was pale but she was as composed as she’d ever been.

  “I’d like you all to meet Charles Barington,” she said with a forced, dazzling smile. “He’s my fiancé!”

  CHAPTER SIX

  “I can’t believe you’re fin
ally willing to marry me,” Charles blurted out when they were out of earshot of the others. “Shelly, what a surprise!”

  “I hope you aren’t going to be upset, Charles, but I really didn’t mean it,” she said gently. “I’m sorry, but I was in a very tight spot. I’ll explain later.”

  He looked torn between disappointment and relief. His eyes glanced toward a young woman named Betsy, for whom he was slowly developing deep feelings. “What will everyone say?” he asked.

  “Nothing at all,” she assured him. “And I’ll simply say that I wasn’t quite enough for you, if anyone asks why we got unengaged.”

  “That’s very nice of you,” he said, surprised.

  “Not really, and I’m sorry I had to involve you. But we’ve been friends for a long time, and I hoped you wouldn’t mind.”

  “Of course I don’t.”

  “I’m glad.” She smiled, watching him blush. He was a sweet man, in his way, but he had no imagination and no stomach for a fight. Shelly knew instinctively that she’d spend her life walking on him if they got married. And that wouldn’t suit either of them, especially Charles. She noticed a familiar younger woman watching him with covetous eyes and an idea was born. “Do go and have something to drink, Charles, and we’ll talk later. Oh, there’s Betsy, remember her? She’s looking very lonely. Wouldn’t it be nice if you asked her to dance?”

  “Yes, of course,” he said eagerly.

  “Why don’t you, then? She’s a dear girl.”

  Charles nodded. He’d never understand Shelly. But Betsy was sweet, and she seemed to like him very much. She only danced with him at parties. He smiled as he approached her and she blushed. He wondered if he hadn’t been turning his interest in the wrong direction all along as he took a radiant Betsy into his arms on the dance floor.

  Shelly, meanwhile, went to the drinks table and poured herself a large brandy. She made a face as she sipped it.

  A big, lean hand shot past her, took the glass and put it down on the table. “You can’t hold your liquor. Leave it alone.”

  She whirled, her eyes angry. “Don’t tell me what to do. I don’t like it.”