Bittersweet Passion

by Peggy Webb

  Daniel had thought to outrun his demons, but there they were, still sitting on his shoulders sneering while he downed one drink after another. Downed his drinks and listened to Skylar Tate singing. What huge irony. Run from demons and discover an angel.

  He hadn’t been looking for her when he came to the nightclub, hadn’t even known she was working here. But who could miss her car?

  In fact, he hadn’t planned anything. After he’d left the nursing home he’d driven around and ended up here, searching for answers and finding Skylar Tate, dressed in a sequined gown that showed every curve of her body as well as an enticing glimpse of leg.

  He recognized the song she was singing. It was the same one she’d sung for his father. And she was looking his way.

  Had she spotted him through the smoke and the crowd?

  He lifted his glass to her, viewed her briefly through the amber liquid, then finished the drink. His fourth? His fifth? He’d lost count.

  As soon as her last song ended, Skylar made her way toward the bar. She had never gone into the crowd after a set, and now she knew why. Hands were all over her, reaching, grabbing, touching. Catcalls. “Whoa, baby, come on over here.” “Come to papa, dollface.” “If you’re looking for me, here I am.”

  It was a good thing it was Pete’s night off, or heads would roll. He was fiercely protective of her.

  Not that she needed protecting. Skylar could take care of herself, and preferred it that way.

  Yeah, and elephants can fly.

  Daniel was sitting slightly to the left, and even from a distance she could tell he’d had too much to drink. What was she going to do when she got to the bar? Tell him to leave? Act like a mother hen?

  She didn’t know. She’d just have to play it by ear. Hadn’t she always? Given a choice between planning ahead and spontaneity, she’d chose the latter every time.

  The man sitting next to Daniel left, and Skylar slid onto the barstool.

  “Hello, Daniel.”

  “Skylar.”

  He lifted his glass to her. His words were already slurring. He was worse off than she’d thought.

  “Has something happened to your dad?” Surely not. Surely he wouldn’t be here.

  “No. He’s the same.”

  Skylar breathed a little sigh of relief.

  “You’re a little out of your element here, aren’t you?”

  “Why?”

  “Preachers don’t go to bars.”

  “How do you know? Did you take a poll?”

  “No, but I can spot them a mile away. Built-in radar.”

  “Your radar needs a checkup. I’m not a preacher.”

  “Since when?”

  “Don’t know. A long, long time.”

  So that was it. Daniel was in the throes of doubt and self-examination, probably self-recrimination as well. Skylar had been on that slippery slope many times, and she knew what a lonely and dangerous place it was.

  The smart thing to do would be to walk away and leave Daniel to his own devices. He was a strong man, both physically and emotionally. You didn’t have to be a genius to figure that out.

  But then, you didn’t have to be a genius to know that she’d never been one to resist fallen angels. And the harder they fell, the more appeal they had for her.

  “You have a lot on your mind,” she said.

  “’Pears that way.”

  “Why don’t you let me call you a cab so you can go home and do your thinking where it’s quiet and peaceful?”

  “No. I can’t go home.”

  “Why not?”

  “Lots of reasons. Too many to name.”

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw the band file back into place. It was almost time for her last set.

  Walk away. Don’t get involved.

  “I have to go back on stage. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back.”

  Lord, had she come back to Mississippi and grown a conscience? At this late date?

  “I’m not leaving. I have nowhere left to go.”

  His words haunted her, followed her all the way to the stage. She walked to the center and began to sing.

  Skylar was singing the blues, the most evocative songs on the face of the earth. And perhaps the truest. The music stripped away what few inhibitions Daniel had left, stripped off his hide and left nothing behind but a puff of breath and a beating heart. Just the essentials.

  And the memories…

  He was six years old, standing by the riverbank with his first fish and the certainty that he owned the world. He was ten and racing down the hill in front of Belle Rose with his hands above his head, letting the bike chart its own course. He was fifteen and in lust with Martha Graham who sat in front of him in algebra class and didn’t know pi from a hole in the ground but had the cutest backside he’d ever seen. He was twenty-three and knew all the answers to the great cosmic questions.

  He was thirty-one and didn’t know anything. He was thirty-one and standing in the parking lot of the nursing home with his face lifted to the rain shouting, “Where are you God? Can you see me down here? Can you hear me? Have you moved off and left me?”

  There was no answer. Or maybe he wasn’t listening any more. Maybe he was the one who had moved away.

  He was thirty-one and sitting in a bar looking for anesthesia.

  When the last set ended, the lights dimmed and the crowd drifted back home. Skylar didn’t go backstage to change. She went directly to the bar.

  Daniel was slumped on his stool, his head resting on one arm stretched across the bar, his hand still curved around a glass.

  She gently removed the glass from his hand, then spoke to the bartender.

  “Can you help me with him, Kevin?”

  “Sure thing, Skylar. Who is he?”

  She wasn’t about to mention his name. The Westmorelands were a prominent family, the kind the gossips would love to see brought down a notch or two. Besides that, she figured nearly everybody in Vicksburg would know that Daniel was a minister, and she wasn’t about to be the one to put a black mark on his record.

  “Just a guy I know.”

  “What do you want me to do with him?”

  “Help me get him to my car.”

  Kevin had the weight and build of a good-sized refrigerator, which was a very good thing, for even though Skylar was tall she wouldn’t have been a match for Daniel. She wondered if he’d ever played football. He certainly had the body for it.

  Most of which was now draped over her in the most provocative way. In a way that made her face warm and the rest of her downright hot.

  Lord, what was she getting herself into? What was she going to do with Daniel once she got him home?

  When they went through the door and the rain hit his face, he roused long enough to lift his head and mutter, “Wha’s happenin’?”

  “Nothing,” Skylar said. “Go back to sleep.”

  “Which seat?” Kevin asked. “Front or back?”

  “Better put him up front with me.” There was no telling what he’d do if he roused back there all by himself.

  She stood back while Kevin dumped Daniel into the front seat. He didn’t ask how she was going to get him out when she got home, and it was a very good thing, for Skylar didn’t know either.

  “Will you need me for anything else, Skylar?”

  “No, thank you, Kevin.”

  “I can follow you home if you like, help you get him inside.”

  “Thanks, but no. Go on home to Margie. I’ll bet she’s waiting up for you.”

  Kevin got a big grin on his face that made Skylar feel lonesome for things she’d never even known she was missing.

  “She always does.” He escorted her around the car, then stood in the rain watching until she was out of the parking lot.

  As she turned the curve, Daniel tilted sideways then lay there with his head resting on her shoulder. Suddenly, for no reason at all, Skylar began to cry. Call it rainy-day blues, call it late-night doldrums, call it any darned
thing you wanted.

  She drove and let the tears come.

  Chapter Eleven

  Parked in her driveway with the motor running and the windshield wipers swishing, Skylar leaned over and touched Daniel’s face.

  “Daniel, wake up. We’re home.”

  “Wha…”

  He peered at her through squinted eyes, then gave a huge and beautiful smile and pulled her into his arms.

  “Daniel…”

  She tried to push herself out of his arms but couldn’t, so she just decided to make the best of it.

  “We have to go inside now,” she said.

  “It can wait.”

  She told herself she didn’t see his kiss coming. She told herself she didn’t have time to duck.

  Lies, her conscience said, and she told it to shut up.

  The simple truth was she’d seen what was coming, she’d had time to dodge…and she hadn’t. She wanted him to kiss her. Wanted it with every fiber of her being.

  Such a kiss. She’d never known anything like it, never felt such sensations. Skyrockets went off in her head. A parade complete with a brass band and elephants carrying bespangled trapeze artists marched across her heart. A pair of snow-white doves grabbed her spirit and soared toward the night-dark sky.

  They kissed until the windows were steamed, and so was she. Daniel, too, from the looks of it.

  Her skirt had crawled up her legs and he put a hand on her bare thigh. A hot hand. A hand that knew just how to touch a woman.

  Daniel, stop that, is what she should say. Instead she wrapped her arms around him for another kiss. Just one more, and then she’d go inside.

  She’d be a good girl. For once in her life.

  And all because of Daniel.

  Not only did she not want a preacher—certainly not for the long haul—but she didn’t want to be responsible for the downfall of one. Skylar didn’t draw the line at many things, but at this one, she did.

  She’d take the rap for all sorts of misdeeds that affected only herself. But she wasn’t about to add leading preachers astray to her long list of sins.

  And so she contented herself with melting against him, reveling in the feel of being held close against a chest that had to rank right up there with the broadest and the best. Besides, he had chest hair. Which she adored. Enticing bits of sun-kissed chest hair peeping over the top of his white shirt which had managed to come partially unbuttoned.

  God, she adored an olive-skinned man in a white shirt. Daniel was not only gorgeous in his: he was lethal. There ought to be a law against men such as he wearing white shirts around women such as she. Women who couldn’t resist.

  She didn’t even try. She buried her fingers in those crisp dark hairs and let herself dream a million dreams.

  What the heck. It was raining, it was dark and there was no one around to see. Not that she cared. She’d have done the same thing even if she’d been standing in the middle of a crowded airport. With fifteen hundred morally upright citizens watching.

  Daniel mumbled something incoherent, then leaned over her and slid his open mouth from her throat down to her cleavage. And beyond.

  Her straps fell off her shoulders, the top of her gown slid down and his mouth closed over one tight nipple. Skylar groaned. How could she help herself? As Daniel wove his magic spell, she buried her hands in his hair and pulled him close. Close enough so that she melted against his skin, melted against his hot tongue.

  What was happening to her? Here she was necking in the front seat of her Thunderbird as if she were a teenager. And loving every minute of it. Not wanting to stop. Not ever wanting to stop.

  His mouth still plying its magic, he pushed her gown lower and kneaded her other breast. Skylar was a wild thing, wet and shaken, exploding, losing control.

  Losing control.

  “Daniel.” She pushed her hands against his shoulders. “We have to stop now.”

  “Can’t stop…. don’t want to.”

  He slipped his hand under her gown, searching, seeking, sliding inside.

  “Daniel…don’t.”

  “Don’t you want it?”

  “Yes…” She wanted it more than anything she could ever remember wanting. “No. No, I don’t.”

  She shoved forcefully enough to break contact.

  He looked at her like a little boy who’d had his Christmas puppy ripped out of his arms. She would have laughed if she hadn’t been so hot and bothered. And so upset with herself.

  What had she been thinking of? Playing with fire that way?

  It didn’t take a Philadelphia lawyer to figure that out. She’d always played with fire. Half the time that’s what kept her going, the sheer adrenaline high she gained from always doing the unconventional thing, from walking on the wild side, from seeing just how far out on a limb she could get without falling off and breaking herself.

  “We have to go inside now, Daniel.”

  “Can’t. Don’ wanna go home.”

  “This is not your house. It’s mine.”

  She pulled her gown back onto her shoulders and smoothed down her skirt. Lord, she was burning up. Roasting in this hot car. She had to have air. She had to have relief.

  When she got inside she was going to turn the air conditioner on. Full blast. She was going to turn the thermostat so low she’d think she was in the Alaskan tundra.

  “We’re going inside now, Daniel. Can you walk?”

  “Don’ wanna walk. Wanna make love.”

  He reached for her and she slapped at his hands.

  “Behave now, Daniel.” She reached behind her, found the door handle, eased open the door. “I’m getting out of the car now.”

  “Don’ leave….”

  “I’m not leaving you. I’m coming around to the other side of the car, and we’re going into my house.”

  “Not mine?”

  “No, not yours. Mine. We’re going in there together.”

  He flashed that beautiful smile, the one that made him look like a little boy about to ride his first pony.

  “Okay.”

  “Fine, then.”

  He launched across the seat and latched on, hands, lips and all.

  Oh, help.

  His kisses melted her. Stole her breath. Stole her will. It was that simple. That wonderful.

  And that terrible.

  This simply wouldn’t do. She had to get him inside. She had to get him in bed.

  But not hers. Definitely not hers. For she knew as surely as she knew her name that if she ever let this man into her bed, if she ever made love with him, she was lost.

  Forever.

  There would be no more Skylar, woman living alone with her cat, woman free as a breeze to hit the open road any time she liked, without encumbrances. There would be Skylar, one of a pair, Skylar attached heart and soul with a man called Daniel, the most highly inappropriate man she could think of.

  Somewhere in heaven—if there was such a place—her daddy must be laughing his head off. She wouldn’t put it past him to have been the brains behind all this. Somehow he’d managed to talk Saint Peter into sending Daniel Westmoreland her way.

  Her daddy couldn’t win her soul with all his preaching so he was trying to sneak in the back door and win her with romancing.

  Well, no thank you very much. She wasn’t fixing to stand by and be an easy target. She was simply going to get this big gorgeous man into her house, let him sleep off his alcoholic stupor and then send him on his way.

  Back to his pulpit. None the worse for wear. His honor still intact.

  She wedged her hands between them and shoved with all her might. When they split apart, he gave her an aggrieved look.

  “Wha’d I do?”

  “Just sit still, Daniel. Don’t move!”

  Skylar bailed out, hurried around the car and jerked the door open.

  “You can come out now.”

  “Don’ wanna.”

  What in the world was she going to do? She couldn’t leave him out t
here all night. Somebody might come along and see him. Some nosey gossip.

  Or worse. Somebody might steal her car. With him in it. Somebody with a knife or a gun.

  Lord, if she ever got inside she was going to have to take something to calm her nerves. What? What? She wasn’t a pill-popping woman. She wasn’t the kind of woman who had an ailment for every occasion and knew fifteen remedies for them all.

  A cup of tea. That was it. She’d drink a cup of hot tea.

  Or was it hot milk?

  Where were wise and kindly grandmothers when you needed them?

  “Daniel, if I have to lean into that car and drag you out it won’t be a pretty sight.”

  He found that uproariously funny. Skylar stamped her foot at him.

  “Daniel Westmoreland, you stop that laughing and get out of the car. For God’s sake, it’s raining.”

  “Don’ take the Lord’sh name in vain.” He shook his finger at her, then hiccupped and covered his mouth. “’Scuse me.”

  “I’m getting wet out here, Daniel. And I’m mad as hell. And if you say one word about watching my language, I’m going to leave you out here all by yourself.”

  “You’re a hard-hearted woman,” he said, but he heaved himself upright and stumbled out of the car.

  Skylar caught him before he toppled, though how she did that she didn’t know. A big man like Daniel. And a slender woman like her.

  They say that when you’re put in stressful situations you’re capable of great deeds. For instance, lifting the front end of a car.

  That’s what it felt like struggling up the rain-slick driveway with Daniel leaning heavily on her. Supporting several thousand pounds of tempered steel.

  By the time she got him through the front door, she was panting. She leaned back to rest, and he came with her. Face to face, chest to chest, groin to groin.

  Speaking of tempered steel…

  “Lord, help me,” she muttered.

  “Skylar…” Daniel was fumbling with the top of her dress again. “Sky…”

  “Stop that.”

  “Donchou like it?”

  “It’s not a matter of what I like or dislike.” Now, why had she said that? Why hadn’t she just said no?