by Amy Summers
"Oh."
"And since I was tired of what I was doing, I said okay. Why not give it a try?" He looked at her closely, wondering if she understood. She looked shell-shocked.
"I got myself an apartment in this building, and then my pipes burst and I needed emergency shelter. Your mother took me in. End of story. Got it?"
Trish nodded. "Got it," she whispered again. She was relieved. She should have known it all along. It had just been a momentary lapse, a quick panic that grew from the seed Suzi had planted. When she'd seen how gorgeous he was.... She knew better now. The idea seemed absurd. He was so very...
Her gaze dropped to his mouth and she wondered how he kissed and suddenly she would have given almost anything to find out. She swayed toward him, lost in a wave of sensory longing that she couldn't begin to understand. Her lips parted softly, her breath was coming faster. His hard, beautiful mouth was so close. She needed his kiss so badly. She ached for it.
Chris stared at her. He wasn't sure if she'd taken in the things he'd said. She had such a dreamy look on her pretty, freckled face. It would have been the most natural thing in the world for him to reach out and draw her into an embrace, to taste that sweet-looking mouth. He was an old hand at seduction, and she was looking definitely seducible. Old habits die hard and attractive women had always been his downfall.
His hands started to move of their own accord, but he clenched them into fists and swore silently to himself. No, dammit! This was just what he had to avoid. If this new life he was starting was going to mean anything at all, he had to teach himself to stop doing things just because they were easy and tempting to do. It was time to develop a little restraint, a little character.
Besides, this woman before him was not at all his usual type. She scared him a little. He sensed something different about her. He was very much afraid that he could touch her, kiss her, and find himself unable to turn around and walk away. He'd never given up control before. Could he handle it? He wasn't sure. He braced himself to hold back his natural responses, even though she was making herself so temptingly available right now.
"So you do understand," he mumbled, avoiding her eyes. "Great. Okay."
Trish stared at him and reached to steady herself on the back of the love seat. She felt like she was coming down from a roller coaster ride, her balance still not certain. What was going on?
He was embarrassed, uncomfortable, looking out across the courtyard and scrunching up in the corner of the seat, getting as far away from her as possible. She blinked hard, clearing her mind. Wait a minute. What had she done here?
Her mind was still just coming out of its fog, but she knew one thing. She'd been in a swoon, overcome by Chris's physical charms. And he'd been very well aware of it. And had chosen to do nothing about it.
She jumped up from the love seat, her face stained with an agonized red. "Of course, I understand perfectly well," she said, looking down at her hands, out at the pool, anywhere but at him. "If you'd told me this in the first place, you could have saved us both the hassle."
"Trish..." He stood and took a step after her.
She backed away very quickly. "See you around, Mr. Chris Dawson," she said as breezily as she could muster. She met his gaze for a moment, felt the pull of his strong personality, and looked away again as fast as she could. And then she was off, hurrying toward the stairs, praying he wouldn't follow her.
She'd never been so embarrassed before in her life. How could she have done that, losing all control that way, letting her hormones spin her into a romantic mist that clouded her brain? She'd always been the sensible one, the one who looked before she leaped. How could she have made such a fool out of herself?
Her hand was shaking as she knocked on the door of her mother's apartment and she took a deep breath to steady herself.
"Hi," she said brightly when her mother opened the door, hoping she wouldn't notice anything amiss.
Laura's face broke into a wide smile and she gave her oldest daughter a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. "Trish, darling! Hi, there. Come on in."
She drew her daughter into the room, then turned and displayed the open back of her silk dress. "Just in time, too. I need help. I'm really in a hurry. Can you zip me, please? Thanks, dear."
She whirled, the brightly colored skirt of her dress whipping around her shapely legs, and Trish stared at her as if she were seeing her for the first time.
She really was beautiful. Her eyes were alight with excitement. She looked full of life and full of fun. Laura Carrington was an engaging, attractively packaged bundle of femininity and any man with any life left in him couldn't help but like what he saw. Any man at all.
Trish felt cold. Where did that leave her father?
Laura swept through the room, searching for her purse. "I hear you've met Chris. Did you see him down at the pool?" she asked happily.
"Yes," Trish said slowly. "I... I saw him."
"Isn't he a doll?"
"I... well, he's certainly..."
Laura didn't seem to notice her hesitation. "Listen, how do I look?" She posed before her daughter. "I'm going over to see Bert."
Trish frowned, puzzled. "Dad's old partner?" Bert and Tam had been surfing buddies. Together they'd formed Carrington's Boards when they were in their twenties. Tam had always been the best surfer, the one who intuitively knew just what to do to a board to make it better. Bert had handled most of the business end of the partnership. Their friendship and business arrangement had lasted through the years, until about eighteen months before when Bert had suffered a heart attack. He'd retired soon after, leaving the company to Tam. Bert was unmarried, a playboy of the old school, and Laura had never fully approved of him. "What are you going to see him for?"
Laura shrugged, glanced at her daughter and then away. "I've got some things I want to discuss with him." She started toward the door. "I'm sorry I have to run out just now, when you've finally come to see me. But I made the appointment and I've got to keep it." She laughed. "You know Bert. If I'm not there on time, he'll be off riding around in that sports car of his with some blond floozy before you know it."
She said the words with affection. What had happened to her usual disapproval? Trish bit her lip worriedly. Had her mother gained some new perspective on life? If so, she didn't think she was going to like it.
"Are you planning to go to the Regatta on Saturday?" Trish asked hopefully.
"Of course. We always go to that, don't we?" She patted a bit of hair into place. "I'm bringing Chris along, to meet people. He needs to get into the swing of things around here." She whirled. "Well, I must be off." She threw Trish a wide smile. "You be a sweetheart and take care of Chris for me while I'm gone, won't you? Entertain him or something. I won't be long."
Trish stiffened. "I'm sorry, Mother, but I have things I have to do," she said.
"Oh. That's a shame. Well, he's a pretty resourceful guy. I guess he'll be able to take care of himself."
"I'm sure of it."
Laura laughed, obviously oblivious to the edge of irony in Trish's tone. "Come on and walk out with me, then. We'll have a short chat on the way to the car."
Trish followed her mother, but she didn't feel much like chatting. Her mind was full of unwelcome thoughts. It looked very much as though her mother were embarking on a new life. Trish hated every piece of evidence that she saw. But did she really have any right to try to stop her?
"See you later!" Laura called as she drove off.
Trish stood on the sidewalk and watched her disappear around the corner. She hadn't said any of the things she'd meant to. She hadn't even asked her mother how things stood. Maybe that was because she was afraid to hear the answer.
She dug her keys out of her purse, then hesitated, holding them so tightly in her palm, the sharp edges cut into her skin.
"Trish."
She knew it was Chris without turning to look, but she turned to look anyway. He'd found a thick, silver terry cloth robe, but it was very shor
t and his muscular legs were still bare. It wasn't fair that he was so attractive. It wasn't fair that she had suddenly become so susceptible to that kind of attractive.
"Trish, I think we should talk."
She was already shaking her head, already backing away. She'd made enough of a fool of herself for one day.
"Sorry," she said breathlessly, turning to her car. "I'm in a hurry." She pulled open the door and dropped onto the seat, looking back at where he stood at the entrance to the courtyard. "I...uh..." She shrugged helplessly. Oh, the hell with it! "Goodbye." And she was off, leaving him standing behind watching her go.
Chapter 5
"Why me?"
Trish and Suzi were in her bedroom trying on dresses from Suzi's closet. Trish was holding up a Hawaiian print sundress to her chest and gazing critically in the full-length mirror.
"Why am I elected?" Dropping the dress on a chair, she turned and looked at Suzi beseechingly. "Why do I have to be the one to keep Chris Dawson captive at the Regatta?"
"Listen, darling," Suzi drawled, flopping down on the bed in a halter-top minidress that showed off long brown legs. "This is your idea. Your crusade. So you get to do the dirty work."
"But you're so much better with men like that. You've had so much more experience."
Suzi fixed her with a suspicious glare and adjusted her huge, lilac-tinted glasses, reminding Trish of a European count with a monocle. "And just exactly what is that supposed to mean?" she demanded.
"Oh, Suzi, you know what I mean. You know how to handle his type. A ladies' man." She sank down on the bed beside her sister and looked her over with a mixture of affection and exasperation. Suzi had always been the "brain" of the family, her nose constantly in a book. And yet every time she looked up myopically, there was some handsome man looking back, smiling a hopeful invitation to something fun. Suzi always seemed to sigh with resignation and go out with her mind only half on her date. And men flocked to her anyway—though Suzi hardly seemed to notice. She was heavily involved in her medical studies right now. A born student, she still attracted the playboys.
In marked contrast, Trish often thought, to the sort of male that seemed to naturally gravitate toward her.
"The men I go out with are more likely to wear desert boots than Italian leather shoes," she reminded her little sister now. "They carry antique slide rules and fall asleep in the middle of candlelight dinners. They take the bus because it's cheaper and show up with candy that they proceed to eat themselves."
"If your guys are still carrying slide rules, you really are in trouble," was Suzi's only comment.
"Well, calculators then. Nerds on wheels. That's all I ever get."
Suzi choked back her laughter, hearing the desperation in Trish's voice. "They're not that bad," she noted dryly. "But I do see your point." She thought for a moment, then shook her head, her long blond hair flying about her shoulders. "No, I won't do it. You're the one who wants to push Mom back into Dad's arms, not me. I say, leave them alone and let nature take its course."
"But you will help me."
Suzi shrugged. "Oh, all right. I'll waylay Mom at the Regatta. Sure. But I won't flirt with Chris. You'll have to do that."
The Regatta was an annual event staged at the Bay Club. The wealthy Bournane family put it on, but Carringtons were always involved. The yacht race itself covered the span from Verde Point to the marina at the Bay Club. An elegant banquet was laid out at the finish, and everyone who was anyone on the lower South Coast came to celebrate. The Carringtons had attended every year since Tam’s surfboards had first taken off in the marketplace. If you were involved in water sports in the area, it was something you just didn't miss.
"I can't do it," Trish murmured, but Suzi paid no attention.
"I'll take charge of Mom the moment she arrives. You'll steer Chris off in some other direction. I, working with finesse and casual subtlety, will lead Mom to where Dad is and throw them together."
Trish sighed and looked wistful. "They'll see each other from across the way. The roses will be in full bloom, framing their views. Memories will surge in each of them. Longings. Regrets." She sighed again, then her tone hardened. "It better work."
Suzi yawned.
"In the meantime," Trish reminded herself in trepidation. "I'm stuck with Chris Dawson."
Suzi rolled onto her back, head down off the bed, and added, "Oh, quit complaining. You have the easiest part. Chris Dawson is a hunk. You know how gorgeous he is. Enjoy him."
Trish gave her an outraged glare. "You don't enjoy a man like a... like a piece of cake."
"Why not? I always do."
They were silent for a long moment mulling that over. A picture of Chris's handsome face floated into Trish's mind, demanding attention. What was he going to make of all this? It was hard to tell. Every time she'd been near him her emotional antennae had been messed up by her physical reactions to him. No man had a right to be that appealing. Every time she thought of how she'd fallen under his spell the day before, she got red all over again. She just wasn't used to men like that.
She'd be stronger the next time.
She shivered. The next time was coming right up, all too soon. She moaned softly and closed her eyes. Keep Chris occupied, distracted, and out of her mother's hair so that her mother and father could have a chance to make up in peace—those were her marching orders. Well, she’d been ordering herself. But never mind. It had to be done. Her heart beat very fast, but she told herself firmly that she would do it. Somehow.
Chris took a long look at himself in the full length mirror. He didn't often dress up so formally. The jacket was cut just right, though, and he'd never worn a whiter shirt. Laura had picked well.
"Wow, aren't you pretty?" Laura laughed over his shoulder. "I didn't realize there was such a handsome gentleman underneath all that suntan lotion."
He looked quickly into her eyes and tried to smile. He knew she was just kidding, but something in her words stung. Funny. He'd been getting awfully sensitive about his playboy image lately. There'd been a time when he'd been proud of it. But now, when he looked in the mirror at his maturing features, the image didn't quite seem to fit.
There was something missing. His eyes seemed to be asking: is that all there is? And waiting for his heart to answer.
But he managed to turn and smile at her. "Am I going to be presentable for all your friends?"
"Oh, sure." She fluffed her hair and reached for a lipstick. "But you'd be presentable in shorts for my friends. They aren't the ones you're putting on the dog for." She slashed some color on her lips. "It's Bert that we want to impress today. I want you to meet him and I want you to make him sit up and take notice. Okay?"
He saluted. "I'll do my best, boss."
"I'm not your boss." She grinned at him. "Not yet, anyway."
He smiled and turned back to the mirror, straightening his tie. "Who else is going to be there?" he asked casually. "Your family?"
"You mean my daughters?" She pulled a shawl out of the closet and drew it around her shoulders. "They wouldn't miss it for the world." She turned to look at herself in the mirror. "And neither would my husband, Tam. I suppose you'll have to meet him, too. But the girls will make sure you're entertained."
Chris hesitated and then said lightly, "I suppose they'll arrive with their respective husbands, fiances, boyfriends, et cetera?"
His tone was careless but he watched her eyes closely as she answered. It seemed strange, but he really didn’t know if they each had any important attachments. Laura hadn’t mentioned any, but you never knew.
Laura paused and frowned. "No. Actually, neither of my girls has ever married. Or even come close." She was silent for a moment. "Strange, isn't it?" she said softly at last. "They grew up in a relatively happy home." She shook herself. "Tam and I had our problems through the years, but when we were together..." She sighed and her eyes grew slightly misty. "When we were together, we felt we had it all. You'd think they would have wanted to recrea
te that in their own lives, wouldn't you? And yet neither of them seems to want to take the step." She shook her head and said softly, "Maybe they didn't understand how very good the good times were."
Chris watched her, not really sure why this should make her unhappy. "I wouldn't worry about it," he said. "They seem like well adjusted young women. Look at Trish—"
"Trish!" She threw up her hands. "She's the worst of the pair. Ever since she bought herself that business, Paper Roses, she's become just like her father. Work, work, work. That's all she cares about." She glanced at her watch. "We're late! Come on. Bert is always late himself, but just in case, we'd better get going."
He went to the door and waited while she bustled about, searching for her bag, her keys, her handkerchief, chattering the whole time. He hardly heard her. His mind was on her copper-headed daughter. Another encounter with Trish was coming up. It was hard to ignore the fact that the prospect gave him a decided lift. He looked forward to seeing those emerald green eyes again—sparks and all.
Chapter 6
Saturday had dawned bright and warm. The Bay Club was decorated with Chinese paper lanterns and bushels of flowers. An orchestra played in the ballroom. A rock band played in the back lawn gazebo. Leis of vanda orchids, flown in from Hawaii, were being handed out to every woman present. The sea breeze tasted like champagne. It was a perfect day, a perfect setting. What could go wrong on a day like this?
"Just about anything," Trish murmured to herself cynically. She was outside the Bay Clubhouse, lurking in the bushes, feeling like a rather tall forest gnome and wondering why she was doing this. The plan had sounded good.
"We'll stay in among those camellia bushes by the entryway," she'd told Suzi. "Then we can pounce on Chris and Mom the moment they drive up."
But Chris and her mother had yet to make an appearance. One could only pretend fascination with camellias for so long, and then one began to look a bit loony hanging about, pawing flowers for hours on end. Suzi had already given up in disgust, and Trish was having doubts of her own.
