STEAMY SAVANNAH NIGHTS

by Sheri WhiteFeather

  She glanced at the paper. "I'm sure it will be good."

  "I hope so." He stepped forward, closing the gap between them. "I've missed you so much, Lea. It's only been two days, but I can hardly stand it."

  When she looked up at him, the room nearly tilted. "I feel exactly the same way."

  "I kept hoping you did." He brought her against his body, stroking a hand down her naked back, creating a blanket of warmth over her skin.

  She put her head on his shoulder and inhaled the familiar scent of his cologne. He was everything she wanted, everything that mattered.

  "We need to start over," he said. "A clean slate. No lies, no false pretenses. No Lady Savannah."

  "I'm not her anymore." Lea lifted her head. "I swear, I'm not."

  "I know. I trust you." He cupped her face. "We'll have a real relationship this time. Deeper than before."

  Their conversation swirled around her like a soul-shrouding mist. Michael stood before her asking her to become a significant part of his life. Yet somewhere deep down, it didn't feel right.

  Because of Cindy, she thought. Because the seed of doubt had already been planted. "It scares me."

  He took his hand away. "Why?"

  "It seems too good to be true."

  "There's nothing that can spoil it this time. Move in with me, Lea. Share my house."

  Her knees nearly buckled, Cindy's prediction reverberating in her ears. "Maybe we should date for a while first."

  "Why? What's wrong with living together?"

  "If it doesn't work out, I don't think I could survive. We've been through so much already." And she couldn't bear to think that his feelings for her were based on sex, on an obsession he couldn't control. "We shouldn't rush into this."

  "Okay. Fine." He scooped her into his arms. "Then I'll court you. I'll wine and dine you. I'll do all those romantic things women want." He dragged her heart against his. "I'll make you swoon."

  Her insides turned to mush. "You already have."

  "Then I'm just going to keep doing it." He kissed her, deep and rich and slow.

  He tasted like a forbidden dream, like the mysterious vampire from her past. His lips were smooth and moist, his chin bristling with a five o'clock shadow. She liked the raspy feeling, the slight roughness against her cheek.

  By the time the kiss ended, her heart was reeling. She wondered if it would always be this way or if Michael would lose interest in her someday.

  He touched a lock of her hair. "Can I see that picture of your parents?"

  "Of course." She wanted to share it with him. She wanted him to know every part of her. "I'll get it."

  She went into her bedroom and removed an envelope from her jewelry box. After she returned to the kitchen, she handed Michael a photograph ravaged by time and the remnants of war.

  He studied it carefully. "Lan was beautiful. You look a lot like her."

  "Thank you. My father was handsome, too." Abraham was young and tall and lean, a secret soldier recovering from his injuries.

  "Have you heard from him?"

  She nodded. "He called me at work today. He invited me to Crofthaven."

  "When?"

  "Tomorrow, before it gets dark. He wants to walk on the beach."

  Michael returned the photograph. "That sounds nice. There's a private cove. I'm sure you'll enjoy it."

  She tucked the picture into the envelope, closing the flap, preserving the only image she had of her mother. "I'm nervous about it."

  "You'll be fine."

  He reached out to hug her, to press a gentle kiss on her forehead, and she let herself fall deeper in love, no matter how dangerous it was.

  A moment later, she told herself to take a cleansing breath, to live one day at a time, to cook the soup with Michael and fill her kitchen with the aroma of pumpkin, parsley, sugar and thyme.

  * * *

  Ten

  « ^ »

  Seagulls flocked along the shore, and the sky reflected a prism of summer hues.

  "This is beautiful," Lea said.

  Her father guided her along the secluded beach, the sun-warmed sand glistening at their feet. "It's peaceful. A good place to be alone."

  Lea nodded, then turned to look at him. His hair blew in the breeze, stirring lightly in the air. She wanted to apologize again, but she feared talking about Lady Savannah would break the spell.

  Self-conscious, she smoothed her wind-ravaged T-shirt. She'd fussed over her appearance, worried that she would never be as pretty as his other daughter. Abraham had five legitimate children, four boys and a girl. Lea had seen newspaper pictures of them. They were adults, like her, but as far as she knew, they'd never done anything as cold-hearted as threaten their father.

  "Have you told your other children about me?" she asked.

  "Yes, I have. I told them after I received the results from the paternity test."

  "Were they upset?"

  He stopped walking. "They were upset that I'd slept with another woman while I was married to their mother. But I think they're coming to terms with the amnesia."

  She studied his frown. "Are you?"

  "My marriage wasn't as strong as it should have been."

  Because of his guilt? she wondered. Or because he wasn't a good husband to begin with?

  "Do you want to meet your brothers and your sister?" he asked.

  Lea took a deep breath. "Yes, very much." She looked into her father's eyes, hoping his other children were interested in her.

  Abraham held her gaze. "Then I'll let them know and they can contact you when they're ready. I don't want to arrange a family dinner. I think it would be better to let everyone handle this in his or her own way."

  "I understand. I think I'd prefer that, too. I'd be too nervous at a family dinner."

  "It will get easier with time." He gave her a reassuring smile. "We're already making progress."

  She returned his smile, knowing her mother would be pleased. "I have something to show you." She reached into her backpack and removed the faded photograph, handing it to him.

  He gazed at the black-and-white image of himself with Lan. "I didn't know someone took a picture of us." He handled the glossy paper carefully, his voice edged with emotion. "It must have been Trung."

  "It was. But at my mother's request. She wanted a picture with you." Lea thought about the years her mother struggled to survive, the days she'd cried for her American lover. "She missed you."

  "I'm sorry, Lea." He watched her hair blow across her face. "I'm so sorry."

  "So am I." She stepped forward to take a chance, to embrace him. "For everything I've done."

  He returned her hug, holding her tentatively at first, then stronger, smoothing her long, billowing hair. She closed her eyes for a moment, realizing her mother's picture was between them.

  When they separated, her eyes turned misty.

  "I'm still willing to call a press conference," he said. "To let the public know about you. To claim you as my daughter."

  "That means the world to me, but I'm not ready to talk to reporters, to have them coming to my door. I'd prefer to remain in the background for a while."

  "That's fine. I just wanted you to know the offer still stands."

  He returned the photograph, and Lea decided her mother was right. Abraham Danforth was an honorable man.

  * * *

  John Van Gelder accepted a snifter of brandy from Hayden, giving his young adviser a wary look. At this point, John didn't know whom to trust. Honest Abe was leading in the polls, fooling the public into believing he was the candidate of choice. "This better be good."

  "The brandy?"

  "Your news."

  "It is." Hayden leaned against the desk in his study, a bit too confident, too sure of himself.

  He reminded John of a peacock fanning its feathers, but that wasn't enough to convince him that the boy had done his job. "What do you have? What did you find out?"

  "Abraham Danforth took a paternity test last month."
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  John didn't react, not at first. "How accurate is this information?"

  "My source is extremely reliable. The person I spoke with is absolutely certain that Danforth fathered an illegitimate child."

  "Well, I'll be damned." A smile spread across John's face. "That is good news." He finished the brandy, savoring the feeling, the sudden flavor of success. He knew it wouldn't take long for Danforth's reputation to crumble, not once this juicy little tidbit was leaked to the press. "I believe we just caught Honest Abe with his pants down."

  "Yes, sir," Hayden said, refilling John's glass. "I believe we did."

  * * *

  After Lea returned from the beach, she got ready for a date with Michael. He'd offered to take her to a popular nightspot, keeping his promise to wine and dine her. So she put on a short black dress and piled her hair loosely on top of her head, hoping to look chic and stylish.

  At 9:00 p.m. they arrived at Steam, a trendy club and posh restaurant located downtown. Less than five minutes later, they were seated at one of the best tables in the house.

  Intrigued, Lea glanced around. The dining room was located on the second floor, directly above the club. From her vantage point, she could see the stage below. Both the restaurant and club were decorated in red velvet, with touches of mahogany and marble.

  "Clayton Crawford owns this place," Michael said. "He's a good friend of mine."

  She reached for her menu. "No wonder we're getting the royal treatment."

  "I told Clay about you. He knows about Lady Savannah, the whole bit. I had to confide in someone."

  "He must think I'm awful."

  "I let him know you were working things out with your dad."

  She relaxed a little. The lamp on the table glowed, and their glasses were already filled with wine. "I assume I'll get to meet Clay tonight?"

  "And his fiancée, too." He looked over the balcony. "They're down there somewhere. We can hook up with them later."

  When their server came by, Lea and Michael ordered the same meal: a steak and seafood platter, with sautéed vegetables and Cajun spices.

  "This is nice," she said.

  He met her gaze. "It is, isn't it?"

  "You know how to treat a woman right."

  "You're the most important person in the world to me." His voice turned rough, laced with trepidation, with tenderness, with a jumble of emotions. "Am I that important to you?"

  Her heart nearly quit beating, but that didn't stop her from reaching across the table for his hand, from admitting the truth. "I love you, Michael."

  "Really?" Although he gripped her fingers like a vise, his voice still sounded rough, still edged with anxiety. "Then why won't you move in with me?"

  "Because you're still struggling with your feelings."

  He didn't dispute her claim. "Clay thinks I love you. He thinks I've got it bad."

  And Cindy thinks it's about sex, Lea thought. So who was right?

  When the server brought their bread, they separated, taking their hands back, leaving the table free.

  "How do you know that you love me?" he asked suddenly.

  "I just do." She wasn't sure how to explain her feelings, not to a man who was watching her with fear in his eyes. "It's okay if it scares you."

  He picked up his wine. "All I ever think about is touching you. Putting my hands all over you." He leaned forward. "Is that what love is supposed to be like?"

  "I don't know what it's like for men."

  He frowned a little. "Neither do I." He finished his drink, then poured another glass. "Maybe we should stop talking about it."

  Lea agreed, so they sat quietly, sipping chardonnay and buttering warm bread. When their meal arrived, they ate filet mignon and grilled shrimp, catching anxiety-ridden glimpses of each other between bites.

  Halfway through their food, Michael started another conversation. "I'm going to be the best man at Clay's wedding."

  She tasted her vegetables. "When is it?"

  "Near the end of the month. Do you want to go with me?"

  "Yes. I'd like that very much."

  "Good." He smiled at her. "I want this to work, Lea. I want us to make it."

  "Me, too." She looked into his eyes and saw her own dreams, the wishes of a con lai girl who'd fallen in love with a half-breed boy.

  After dinner, they took a gated elevator to the lower level, and once they were in the club, he introduced her to Clay Crawford and his fiancée, a stunning redhead named Kat.

  Lea couldn't help but admire them, the soul-stirring way they looked at each other, the tender yet subtle way they touched.

  Clay seemed to be watching her and Michael, too, analyzing them, judging their relationship. But Lea didn't mind. If the other man thought that Michael loved her, then she was more than willing to consider him an ally.

  Within a few minutes, Clay and Kat excused themselves, insisting they had work to do. But Lea wasn't buying their excuse. She suspected that they wanted to give her and Michael some romantic time alone.

  Once his friends were gone, Michael gazed at her. She looked back at him, wishing she could lock him inside her heart.

  "Do you want to dance?" he asked.

  She nodded and reached for his hand. Together, they walked onto the dance floor, finding a cozy spot among the other couples.

  The music was deep and sensual, as rhythmic as the motion of their bodies. He lowered his head to kiss her, and she tasted the wine he'd drunk with dinner, the flavor of intoxication on his lips. Lea had never danced like this before. She'd never moved so erotically, not with her clothes on.

  He nuzzled her neck, breathing softly against her skin, and when he loosened the pins in her hair, she wondered if he knew he was seducing her.

  "Will you stay with me tonight?" she asked, not wanting to be alone, to be without him.

  "You know I will." He kissed her again, and at that desperate moment, Lea told herself it didn't matter if Michael knew the difference between lust and love. All that mattered was his hands and his mouth and the slow, sensual way he caressed her.

  Yes, she thought. All that mattered was the beauty of making love with him, the comfort of his touch, the sweet, summer-bound safety of sleeping in his arms.

  * * *

  Michael awakened in Lea's bed, in a room with lavender sheets and whitewashed furniture.

  Feeling out of place in the feminine surroundings, he tried to acclimate his emotions, the fear of falling in love, of being overwhelmed by it, of not knowing which way to turn or what to do.

  Confused, he breathed against her neck, inhaling the familiar scent of her skin. She was still asleep, still wrapped in his arms.

  He disengaged their bodies and rose on his elbow, leaning over her. She squinted and opened her eyes, fluttering her lashes, fighting grogginess.

  "What are you doing?" she asked.

  He managed a smile. They'd made sweet, syrupy love last night, touching and kissing for hours, making every breathless minute count. "I'm looking at you."

  "Why?"

  "Because you're so pretty." And because when he was with her, when she was by his side, his life made sense. And when she wasn't, he went crazy. "I wish you'd move in with me."

  She reached out to graze his cheek. "We agreed to take our time about that."

  Michael frowned. In some ways, he understood her reluctance. And in other ways, it made him ache. "You think I'm being impulsive."

  "You are." She traced the troubled lines in his forehead. "But I'm still in love with you."

  He lowered his head to kiss her, wishing he had more control over what was happening. The only time their relationship seemed stable was when he was inside her, when their bodies were joined, when they got lost in each other's arms.

  She slid her hands through his hair, pulling him closer. They were still naked, still warm and sticky from the night before.

  "I don't have any more condoms with me," he said.

  "It's okay. We don't have to be together."


  "But I want to make you feel good." Unable to resist, he rubbed his thumbs over her nipples, making them peak, drawing one into his mouth.

  Lea arched and sighed, and he took comfort in the closeness, in the intimacy that never failed to arouse her. Anxious to please her, he roamed her body, molding her, taking possession.

  She gave him a glazed look, and he knew she'd slipped into a state of carnal consciousness, that his soul was seeping into her pores.

  "I can't concentrate when you touch me," she said. "I can't think clearly."

  "Good." He didn't want her to behave rationally. He wanted her to come unglued, to surrender to him. "Do you like this?" He licked his way to her navel. "And this?" He nipped her skin, moving lower, making her moan.

  When she opened her legs, inviting him to taste her, he kissed between her thighs, using his tongue, giving her what she wanted, what they both needed.

  Heat, he thought. Primal sensations. Sleek, seductive shivers.

  She made a throaty sound, and sunlight spilled into the room, bathing her in ever-changing hues, in colors his mind had conjured.

  Lea wasn't shy. She lifted her hips and rubbed against his mouth, showing him how much she liked what he was doing.

  He liked it, too. For Michael, oral sex was more than foreplay, more than a teasing game. To him, it was the ultimate act of submission, of trusting your partner.

  When she climaxed, he tasted her release, sipping her deep and slow. She fell onto the bed, her stomach muscles quivering, her limbs shaking.

  He'd never seen a more beautiful woman.

  "You're spoiling me," she said.

  He kissed his way back up her body, brushing her lips with his. "That's the idea."

  She rolled over. "Maybe I should spoil you."

  His pulse pounded. Everywhere. "You don't have to."

  "What if I want to?" She crawled between his thighs, making his breath catch. He was already hard, already turned on.

  Michael shifted his legs, giving her full access to his body, letting her have as much as she wanted, as much as she was willing to take.

  She took all of him, with her hands and her mouth, increasing the tempo, setting a strong, fluid rhythm.