by Sandra Brown
“We’re talking about you, not me.”
“You are talking about me.”
“It was your wedding that went bust.”
“Well, at least I got that close,” she shouted.
“I got closer,” he shouted right back. “I got married.”
For an instant, he froze. Then he turned quickly, giving Sunny his back. She watched him drive impatient fingers through his hair as he swore beneath his breath.
Sunny’s chest seemed to cave in on her. “You’re married?”
“Divorced.”
“When?”
“A long time ago.”
“What happened?”
“I got shot.”
“Shot?” She sank down onto the arm of the sofa.
Slowly, he turned to face her again. He stared down at her for a long, quiet moment, then started talking in choppy phrases. “We got married. I got promoted to Vice. I loved it. She hated it. We quarreled every time I left the house. She didn’t understand why—”
He stopped abruptly, raked his hair again, then resumed. “One night they called her from the hospital. The gunshot wasn’t much. The bullet went straight through me.” Absently, he touched his side. “But it was enough to scare hell out of her. When I recovered, she told me she couldn’t take it anymore, that she couldn’t live with me knowing that every time I left it could be for the last time. We divorced.”
Sunny studied the striped pattern of the sofa. “Is that why you came here?”
“No. That was something else.” His lips hardened into that thin line of bitterness that was becoming familiar to Sunny. It was there each time his motivation for moving to Latham Green was mentioned.
He moved to the window, opened the shutter, and stared out into the blackness surrounding the cabin. He seemed lost in morose reflection. Sunny wondered, with an unacknowledged pang of jealousy, if he was still in love with the woman who had left him. She surprised herself even more than him when she asked the question out loud.
His head came around slowly and he looked at her hard. Then a faint smile relieved his lips of their tension. “No, Sunny. If I was, I would never have let her go.”
“But you look so sad when you talk about it.”
“I only regret being a postponement to her happiness. I wish I had realized sooner that we weren’t right for each other, that we wanted different things.” He returned to where she was sitting on the arm of the sofa and crouched down in front of her. Paternally, he covered her hands with his. “Is that what happened to you and Jenkins? Did you just decide at the last minute that you wanted different things?”
“That was basically it, yes.”
“What was it specifically? Did you want to go on breaking hearts?”
She shoved him aside and surged to her feet. “Why do you, why does everyone, assume that it was my fault?”
She realized too late what a telling statement that was and only hoped that Ty didn’t catch it. Of course, that was asking too much from a policeman. He was trained to catch discrepancies, revealing nuances. He caught her by the shoulders and spun her around.
“Are you saying it was Jenkins’s idea?”
“I’m not saying anything.”
“Not intentionally, but incriminating confessions usually pop out accidentally. What happened, Sunny? What did Jenkins do?”
She stubbornly pressed her lips together. Ty studied her face, probing her turbulent eyes.
“Now that I think on it,” he said musingly, “your behavior tonight in the café was odd in more ways than one. You walked out on him in that church. Therefore, seeing him for the first time since then, shouldn’t you have acted ashamed? Contrite? Embarrassed?
“Instead, you tried real hard to sell him on how happy you are in New Orleans. You’re not cruel. If it was truly you who had jilted him, you wouldn’t have been so bubbly, rubbing his nose in how wonderful your life is without him.”
She turned her head away. He pinched her chin between his thumb and index finger and snapped it back around. “Don’t,” she said.
“That’s it, isn’t it? Jenkins said or did something before the wedding that forced you to take drastic measures. Something untenable. Intolerable.”
“Over a hundred people saw me turn and leave. You’ve heard how fickle I was,” she said, flinging her head back and swishing her hair. “I changed my mind, that’s all.”
“Uh-uh. I can’t buy that, Sunny. Something changed your mind for you. But what? What could he have done that was so terrible, so dastardly—” He stopped, staring at her incisively. “Another woman,” he said softly.
Sunny wrested herself free. She began roaming the room as though looking for an avenue of escape. Her arms were crossed over her stomach. Feeling chilled to the bone, she rubbed her upper arms with her hands. She went out onto the porch, seeking warmth. The sultry air embraced her. The shadows were dense; she wanted to draw them around her for protection.
But there was no escaping the intuitive man who was unraveling the secret that no one else had guessed. He moved up behind her.
“What happened, Sunny?” No longer malicious, his voice was as gentle and confidence-inspiring as a priest’s.
He had uncovered her deepest secret. She should be furious, but found to her surprise that she was almost grateful. For three years she had kept the pain bottled up inside her. It was a relief to uncork that bottle and let it all spill out.
“I had bought gold chain bracelets for all my brides-maids. The one I had given Gretchen—” Behind her, Ty cursed. Sunny didn’t stop to comment on his reaction to the name. Now that she had started, she was eager to get it all out. “—had a faulty clasp, so I had taken it back to the jeweler to be replaced.”
She shivered. He laid his hands on her shoulders and drew her back against him. “The morning of the wedding, I got up early. I had a million and one things to do and wanted to get as many chores as possible done early. Delivering Gretchen’s bracelet was one errand I could get out of the way. I drove over to her house. I called out when I let myself in the front door. Obviously she was still sleeping. So I crept into her bedroom.”
She paused, drew a deep breath. “And found Don in bed with her.”
She said it now with the same degree of bewilderment that she had felt that morning when she saw the man she would marry in a few hours, naked, in the sleeping embrace of a woman she had considered her good friend. Rage wasn’t what she had initially felt. Not even anger. But profound puzzlement.
What in the world was Don doing in Gretchen’s bed?
Of course the answer was obvious.
“They woke up. You can imagine ...” Her voice trailed off; her head dropped forward; her eyes slammed shut; she rubbed the center of her forehead. “It was terribly awkward for all of us. I cursed them to perdition, then ran out.”
“Did he come after you?”
“Oh, yes. He caught up with me and demanded that we talk. I couldn’t believe it was happening. It was so bizarre, so unexpected. I was dazed.”
“What did he say?”
She sighed and made a shrugging motion. “That it had been one of those things that just happened. He had no excuse, no explanation for it. Gretchen meant nothing to him. He loved me, was in love with me, wanted to marry me. He hated himself for what he’d done.” Again, she sighed. “That kind of thing.”
“And you believed him?”
“Yes. I guess so. I don’t know.”
“Had he and Gretchen been together before?”
“He swore that they hadn’t been, but it didn’t really matter, did it? They had still betrayed me. Gretchen telephoned in tears, begging my forgiveness.”
“So you decided to go through with the wedding.”
“I didn’t think I had a choice. My parents had spent so much money on it. Practically everybody in town would be there. I was so confused, and there was no one I could talk to about it because I didn’t want anyone to know. It wasn’t as if I had weeks or even days
to make up my mind. I had to decide in a matter of hours what I was going to do.
“Don kept telling me that I was being unreasonable to even consider calling off the wedding, that in the scheme of things one night out of our lifetime didn’t matter. He said I wasn’t taking a very modern approach, and that if I really loved him, I’d forgive him. And I thought I loved him. It seemed impossible to back out.”
She fell silent. When she picked up her story, her voice sounded far away, as though she were reliving it. “It seemed impossible until the minister asked if I would commit my life to Don. And in that instant, I knew I couldn’t. If he could take another woman to bed on the eve of our wedding, chances were very good he’d do it again. The least a married couple should expect from each other is fidelity, isn’t it?” She drew a ragged breath. “So when the minister posed the question, I knew that no matter what humiliation it cost me, I couldn’t go through with the wedding.”
For a long while Sunny stared into the darkness, lost in her memories. When she returned to the present, she realized that Ty Beaumont was supporting her and holding her close. His chin was resting on the top of her head. She could feel his breath sifting through her hair. His fingers were stroking the sides of her neck.
Suddenly the staggering consequences of what she had just done registered with her. Ty had tricked her into telling him what she had kept private all this time. Not even her parents knew why she had left the church that day. Ty’s knowing invested him with power over her. Her secret was certainly safe with Don and Gretchen. But now, Ty knew. At best, he pitied her. His pity wasn’t to be borne!
She spun around and faced him belligerently. Tears of mortification filled her eyes. “There! Satisfied? Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“I had no idea it would be anything so painful.”
“Then you shouldn’t have badgered me into telling you.”
“No, we’re both better off for your telling me. What I don’t understand is why you’ve taken the rap for what happened. Why have you let everyone assume that Don was the injured party?”
“You’ll have to figure the rest out for yourself, Mr. Beaumont. I’m going inside.”
She swept past him, but he caught her arm and drew her back. “ Why, Sunny?”
As she gazed up at him, her eyes filled with salty tears. “Don’t you know?”
The truth hit Ty Beaumont with the impact of a .45 slug. He knew what that felt like, and Sunny’s words struck him just as hard. “You’re still in love with the sonofabitch?”
“Good night. I’m going in.”
“Wait a minute.” He pulled her back again. “That’s it? That’s why you took the blame instead of announcing to the whole church full of people that he and Gretchen had been screwing around, which I personally think you should have done.”
“I didn’t ask for your advice, then or now.”
“That’s why, when you saw him tonight, you looked like you’d been poleaxed before you started playing Scarlett O’Hara. How can you love a creep like him?”
“I don’t expect a man with your lack of sensitivity to understand.”
“Want to know what I think?”
“No.”
“I think you’re fooling yourself into believing you still love him. He’s just the only man who ever got your goat, the only one who rejected you and not the other way around.”
“You’re crazy.”
“No, Jenkins is. For driving a spitfire like you away. Why would the dumb bastard risk losing you? I know Gretchen Jenkins. She’s a good-looking lady, but she has none of your fire, your vitality.”
He cocked his head to one side. “Maybe that scared Jenkins. Maybe he knew he couldn’t begin to please a woman like you. On the night before your wedding, he got nervous about it and needed to be reassured of his virility. So he took another woman—not just another woman but one of your best friends—to bed in order to prove it.”
“That’s ... that’s ridiculous! Real men don’t have to prove their masculinity!” Sunny cried.
“Exactly.”
Sunny realized he had trapped her in a corner and now tried to bluff her way out. “I never threatened Don’s masculinity.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. How could I?”
“Just by being you. Smart, talented, self-confident, self-reliant you. Some men feel threatened by women like you. Apparently Don’s one of them. He needed a woman who would nurse his ego, tell him how strong and wonderful he is.”
“I did,” Sunny said with desperation. To this day she couldn’t understand why Don had gone to Gretchen’s bed. What had Gretchen given him that she’d failed to provide? What need had Gretchen fulfilled that she hadn’t?
Ty said, “But you are just as strong and wonderful as he is. More so. Jenkins couldn’t handle it.” He closed his arms around her. “I think he’s a damn fool for letting you go. And I think you’re a damn fool for still imagining yourself in love with him.”
She tried to twist out of his embrace, but it was inescapable. He seemed to exert very little effort, but his arms were powerful. As was his lazy smile. It obliterated Don’s image from her memory. The man she loved was obscured by this one, whom she hated. Ty Beaumont always pushed the right buttons, whether to arouse her sexually or to entice her into baring her soul. She didn’t know how he’d managed it, or why she’d been so culpable, but it had happened and she would never forgive him for it.
Unaware of her thoughts, Ty kept up his lulling monologue. “Don Jenkins isn’t a match for you, Sunny. The marriage would have ended unhappily sooner or later anyway. By doing what you did you only spared yourself greater unhappiness.”
“How dare you stand there and presume to know what would make me happy.”
“I know, all right. You need a man who’ll stand up to you. One who enjoys your spiciness and isn’t intimidated by it. One who matches your passion. You need someone who’ll make love to you, and I’m talking hard, Sunny. And often.”
“And I suppose you think you fit the bill.”
He moved against her suggestively. “You tell me.”
“I’ll tell you only one thing,” she said heatedly. “I love Don.”
“Prove it. Resist me. Resist this.”
He backed her against a support beam of the porch’s roof and branded a fiery kiss onto her lips. Vocal protests welled up inside her mouth, but they were stoppered by his demanding kiss. She tried to move her head aside, to dodge his persuasive lips, but they followed hers relentlessly.
She pushed against his shoulders with the heels of her hands, but he only leaned closer, sandwiching her between him and the smooth cypress wood.
“All this heat,” he murmured against her arched neck, “and Jenkins wanted to extinguish it.”
“And you don’t?”
He brushed his lips back and forth across hers as he shook his head no. “Not at all, Sunny. I want to make you burn hotter. I want to be in the very heart of your fire.”
She gasped, and when she did, he sent his tongue deep into her mouth. It maneuvered with limber skill. She fought the tremulousness that crept into her limbs, draining them of strength. She denied the sensations that slowly rivered through her body, as thick and hot and bubbly as warm molasses.
He unbuttoned her blouse and tugged the tail of it from the waistband of her skirt. “No,” she protested weakly.
“Why not?”
“Because I hate you.”
“Love isn’t doing you any good,” he said, moving his hands over her aching breasts. “Maybe you should try hate.”
“Stop,” she groaned.
“Before I’ve had a taste of you?”
“Yes.”
“You want me to leave you alone, right?”
“Yes.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
He laid his lips against her ear and pressed his hand flat against her stomach, fingers pointing downward. “Should I stop here?”
“Yes.”
“I can give you pleasure, Sunny, with just my fingertips. With just a touch.”
“No. Stop.”
“You don’t want me to touch you where you’re all warm and creamy?”
“No,” she sobbed.
“You’re a liar, Sunny Chandler,” he whispered huskily.
Sunny wanted to collapse against him. She longed to rest her head on the welcome support of his chest and draw on his strength. And, with scalding shame, she admitted to herself that she wanted his hand caressing her until the achy, feverish longing was banished.
But she struggled against her weakness and raised her head. By an act of will she converted her passion to animosity. Her lips were bruised, marked not only by their kisses, but also by her own teeth in an effort to hold back her cries of surrender. Her golden eyes were glittering with defiance.
“All you’ve proved is that I’m human, made of flesh and not of stone. I’ll go to bed with you now if that’s what you want. You can win your wager. You can salve your phenomenal ego by maintaining your bedroom track record.” She drew a shaky breath. “But when it’s over, I’ll still love Don. And you’ll know that my heart wasn’t in it. I’ll have used you just as you’ve used me. Is that what you want?”
Ty had made a serious tactical error and he knew it.
Cursing his poor judgment, he drained the umpteenth cup of coffee he’d drunk since returning from Sunny’s lake cabin. He hadn’t even gone to bed, knowing that it would be useless. He wouldn’t sleep. Between desire and self-flagellation, he’d stay awake all night anyway. So he had chosen to brew a pot of coffee and wait out the night with it.
Now, as the sun was creeping over the eastern horizon, he still remonstrated with himself for the way he’d bungled things last night.
When backed into a corner any wounded animal was going to scratch. When he had told Sunny she didn’t, couldn’t, love Don Jenkins, it was predictable that she would swear on a stack of Bibles she did.
