Dixie Virgin Chronicles: Catherine (Book 7)

by Webb, Peggy

  “See. That’s just what I’m talking about.”

  “My sweet, I am many things, but I am not a mind reader.” Tyler opened his car trunk and began to unload gear. The sleeping bag came first. “You’re going to have to explain what probably should be perfectly obvious to me. Maybe it’s because I’m new at this hero business.” He tossed his sleeping bag onto the ground near the elephant enclosure, then turned to grin at her. “But I promise to get the hang of it real quick.”

  “You are arrogant and presumptuous, Tyler West. And besides that, you act as if all this—” she waved her arm to include the pasture with its grass still squashed from the recent invasion of the circus “—is your personal playground.” She put her hands on her hips and struck a sassy pose. “We’re not in the middle of one of your novels, Tyler. This is real life.”

  He tossed one more item out of his car trunk. If she wasn’t mistaken, it was a candelabra. He looked up at her then, and she thought she had never seen a more tender, more sincere look on a man’s face. He was not only a charming sorcerer, he was a superb actor, as well.

  “Real life doesn’t have to be scary.” He moved closer, speaking softly. “Real life can be spontaneous and fun and sweet and tender. Real life can be wonderful with the right person, Catherine.”

  Did he know about Billy Joe? How could he possibly know? She decided there was no way Tyler could be privy to her past. Her best bet would be to act innocent, as if she had no past.

  “Of course, life can be wonderful, Tyler. I’ve already found my right person.”

  “You have?” He looked as crestfallen as it was possible for a cocky pirate of a man to look.

  “Certainly. Three of them to be exact.”

  “The elephants.”

  His big smile was back. She decided she liked it there. Tyler was pleasant and charming and seemed totally harmless, but she’d been fooled before.

  “You’ll have to move out of my way, Tyler. I’m going to take Elvira back to her enclosure.”

  Tyler was not daunted. While she was busy re-chaining Elvira and tending her elephants, he was busy setting up camp on the other side of the ropes. He had a folding table and two canvas director’s chairs, a pup tent and a sleeping bag, his guitar, his white hat, his steel-toed boots, a white linen tablecloth, a candelabra, a boom box with tape player and enough tapes to last till Christmas without ever hearing the same one twice.

  Catherine observed all that out of the corner of her eye. Tyler West had come to stay.

  But she was safe on her side of the ropes with her elephants. She had nothing to worry about.

  Or, at least, that’s what she thought until dinnertime came. Then Tyler busied himself spreading the linen cloth and lighting the candles and selecting a blues song that sounded just right for cuddling. She remembered because Billy Joe had loved music. In the early days of their courtship, before the small cruelties had started, he would select a love song, build a fire and pull her onto the bearskin rug and into his lap. She used to love cuddling. Lately she was beginning to miss it.

  With the soft strains of “Love Me or Leave Me” filling the evening air, Tyler leaned back in his chair and called across the way. “Are you hungry, Catherine?”

  “No.”

  “I am.” He didn’t say anything else for a while, then he added, “I fancy a broiled lobster, dripping in butter, and a baked potato big as my shoe and a great slab of home-baked bread, soft on the inside and crunchy on the outside, just the way I like it.”

  He was making her mouth water. She was very hungry, but she wasn’t about to admit it. Dinner for her would be canned beans and hot dogs, eaten hurriedly inside her trailer. She guessed that would be dinner for a long, long while. She dared not leave Elvira and Elmer alone, certainly not long enough to go into town for the kind of dinner Tyler was describing. Not even to stock up at the grocery store so that she could make something appetizing for herself. Until Angel was safe, she was going to sleep and eat with her elephants. Nobody was going to whisk Elvira and Elmer away in the darkness.

  She sat cross-legged on her sleeping bag, far enough away from the elephants’ chains that they couldn’t reach her if they suddenly went berserk and yet still inside the rope, protected from Tyler. She felt secure in engaging in a little banter.

  “I suppose you’re going to pull all that out of the trunk of your car.”

  “I suppose.” He smiled.

  He didn’t say anything else, but let the silence settle comfortably between them. It was the kind of comfortable homey silence that made her think of slippers by the bed and milk and cookies by the fire.

  “You took so much stuff out of your car, for a minute I thought it was Mickey’s clown car.”

  “You noticed.”

  Of course, she had noticed. As a matter of fact, she had made sure she didn’t miss a thing.

  “How could I help it? You were making enough racket to wake the dead.”

  “As I recall, I was as silent as snow falling on a river.”

  “Well, anyhow...I’m not interested in lobster. You go right ahead. I hear there’s a good seafood restaurant in town. I’ll be glad to see you leave.”

  He laughed. “You’d miss me.”

  “I would not.”

  “Lobster’s no fun with just one.”

  “Find a companion.”

  “I already have.” He got up and pulled the other chair out from the table. “Your seat awaits, Catherine.”

  “No, thank you. Besides, I don’t see any lobster.”

  “I’m magic. All you have to do is dream, Catherine, and I’ll snap my fingers and make your wishes come true.”

  She recalled the night they had created their own Camelot, a night of bright stars and thrilling rides and gentle kisses...and dreams that threatened to be reborn. And once more, Tyler was offering her magic. It was dangerous to play his games.

  “I don’t believe in lobster that appears by magic. And I certainly don’t believe in dreams.” She slid a book and a flashlight from inside her sleeping bag, then turned her back on him and began to read.

  For a while there were no sounds except the music and the distant call of a whippoorwill. Catherine believed he had given up.

  And then she heard the vehicle. She wasn’t about to betray her interest by turning around, but she could tell by the sound that it was a four-wheel drive. The truck stopped; then she heard Tyler’s voice.

  “Just put it over here.”

  There were more sounds—the clanking of silver, the rattling of dishes, the polite murmurings of people trained to serve. She was intrigued, but still she didn’t turn around.

  “You can take off the covers now. I believe the lady is getting hungry.” Tyler again. Making presumptions and taking liberties. She wouldn’t have turned around if seven-ton Elmer had come and tried to sit down on her.

  Dishes rattled, and then, heaven help her, she smelled lobster. The good, buttery delicious smell settled right under her nose. She hadn’t eaten all day. Not really. She had discovered Angel missing before she’d had breakfast, and lunch had been a hasty affair eaten standing up, talking to the sheriff. A bag of chips and a cola, if she recalled. She had been so upset that she had automatically eaten what Mickey had shoved into her hands.

  Her own dinner of beans and hot dogs suddenly seemed as appealing as a can of cat food. She pinched her nostrils together so she couldn’t smell Tyler’s dinner, then sucked in her stomach so it wouldn’t growl. She would die if her stomach growled and gave her away.

  “Thank you, gentlemen. The lady and I wish to dine alone. You can collect the dishes tomorrow.”

  More obsequious murmuring. Did everybody do Tyler’s bidding?

  The four-wheel drive cranked up and left. She could almost feel Tyler’s wide smile behind her back. She waited, hoping he would have a quick dinner and be done with it.

  “Catherine...”

  She didn’t turn around.

  “You have to eat sometime. You’l
l get sick if you don’t.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Fasting won’t bring Angel back.”

  Tears were too close to the surface.

  “You need to stay strong, sweetheart.”

  She was weakening. Tyler could be very persuasive.

  “Cat...”

  Unable to resist, she turned toward him.

  “I promise not to touch you,” he whispered.

  He knew. Somehow he knew. Catherine stood up. There was no sense in being foolish.

  “You’re right,” she said as she crossed the ropes. “I have to stay strong.” He stood up, and she sat in the canvas chair on the opposite side of the table. The candlelight cast soft shadows on Tyler and his lobster. Both of them looked delicious.

  “This is kind of you, Tyler. I guess I’m glad you stayed.”

  “I’ll always be here for you.”

  “Don’t say things like that, pretty phrases meant to turn my head.”

  “I can’t make any rash promises. Flamboyance is my style. After all, I am a writer.”

  She laughed then. “I don’t believe there’s a sincere bone in your body, but I am hungry and I was lonely until you came back. I’m also awfully glad you’re here—I was never really all that mad. Especially not at you.”

  “You’ve had a hard day, Catherine. It’s good to hear you laugh again.”

  “I owe you an apology, Tyler.”

  “For doubting my sincerity? I accept.”

  “No. For my lack of graciousness. You’ve been very good to me. The least I can do is be nice to you.”

  “Nice will do for starters. Tomorrow I’ll expect generous. The day after that, warm. And the next day, who knows? Maybe mad, unbridled passion.”

  “You never give up, do you?”

  “Not when the prize is worth the effort.”

  “I’m no prize.” She picked up her fork and began to eat. “Mmm, this is delicious.” He smiled at her. “Look what I called the mayor today—an old toad.”

  “He deserved it.”

  “Maybe so, but I owe him an apology. I was taught that name-calling is rude.”

  “All that beauty and manners, too. If I had known that about you, I might have become your knight in shining armor sooner.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but he interrupted.

  “I can’t help myself, Catherine. I’m not only rude, I’m undisciplined, as well.” He broke off a piece of hot bread and held it toward her lips. “It’s good that one of us is going to be a fence-mender.”

  “Why?” she said, accepting the bite. His fingers somehow got caught in her mouth. Both of them went very still. Then she shifted the bread, and her tongue brushed against his fingertips. She felt the charge all the way to her toes. Oh, she was on dangerous ground. Perhaps it would have been better all the way around if she had sat on her side of the ropes and starved to death.

  Tyler rubbed his fingertips on the moist inner lining of her lips. Pleasure rippled through her, wave after wave, starting in her mind and ending somewhere in the vicinity of her heart. She closed her eyes and gave in to the sensation.

  “Because, my sweet, if we’re going to flaunt tradition in this town, it’s a good idea to get along with the people.”

  “We?” Her eyes snapped open, and she hastily pushed his fingers out of her mouth.

  “Yes, we. As in, you and me. The two of us, together. Best friends. Great elephant rescuers. Incredible lovers.”

  “You’re a dreamer.”

  “Where is the beauty of life without dreams? Where is the wonder? The joy?”

  “Camelot?” she asked softly.

  “Yes, Camelot. You can be the queen and I’ll be the king.”

  If only…

  Chapter Eight

  Tyler was pleased with his progress. For one heady moment Catherine had given in to passion. He had seen it in her face, felt it in her response as he caressed her lips.

  Now she sat across the table from him, warm and relaxed and receptive. He had hopes that before the week was out he would have her in his arms.

  She leaned across the table, so close he could see a tiny fleck of butter on her bottom lip. He couldn’t resist. Slowly he reached for her, bracketing her face with his hands.

  “You are so lovely,” he whispered.

  She closed her eyes. An invitation if he ever saw one. He took it.

  One swift move brought her lips to his. He licked the butter first.

  She drew a ragged breath, but she didn’t pull away. Tyler was encouraged. To touch her and not have her pull away, to kiss spontaneously without asking first—that was progress.

  He settled his mouth over hers and kissed her with all the tenderness in his soul. He handled her as if she were the finest cut crystal, fragile, rare and very precious.

  He wove his fingers into her hair and gently urged her closer. She leaned into the kiss, half rising from her chair in order to get closer.

  Soon tender kisses were not enough, and he delved his tongue into her mouth. A deep tremor ran through her as she changed from receiver to giver. Tyler felt the change, sensed the rebirth of passion in her, tentative at first and then stronger. When her tongue sought his in a sensual duel, he almost leaped out of his chair. He wanted to rake dishes aside, and make love to her on top of the table.

  If she had been any other woman, he would have. He believed lovemaking should be totally spontaneous.

  But he had no intention of jeopardizing his hard-won ground with hasty actions. The kiss would have to do. He probably wouldn’t get a drop of sleep, but what did that matter? He could play guardian to his angel while she slept.

  Catherine braced one hand on his shoulder, then ever so slowly slid it upward toward the back of his head. Her fingers left a trail of fire. Tyler had never known a woman’s touch could be so exciting.

  But until now there had been no Catherine.

  Slowly she pulled back from him. Her eyes were very wide and blue.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “I’m not. I’m delighted... and honored.”

  She sat back in her chair and pressed her hands over her lips, studying him for a long time before she spoke.

  “I didn’t mean to do that, Tyler.”

  “You’re a passionate woman, Catherine.”

  “I used to be.”

  “You still are.”

  “I don’t want to give you any false impressions, and I certainly don’t mean to lead you on.” She leaned forward. “I’m not a tease, Tyler.”

  “I know that.”

  To his surprise, Catherine laughed.

  “You amuse me, Tyler.”

  “You arouse me... and I arouse you.”

  “No. I kissed you because I was lonesome and vulnerable. That’s all.”

  “Are you still lonesome?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s try it again.”

  “I’m not going to play your games anymore.”

  “Then I’ll play yours.”

  “You might find them boring.”

  “You could never bore me. You are the most endlessly exciting woman I’ve ever met.”

  Catherine stood up and dropped her napkin beside her plate. “Thank you for the dinner, Tyler. It was delicious.”

  “Thank you for joining me, Catherine. You were delicious.”

  “That’s the last taste you’ll get.”

  Don’t count on it, he thought. He let her have the last word. It was probably a smart thing to do. He figured it would give her a sense of control, of power. The one thing he didn’t want was for Catherine to feel powerless around him. He wanted her to know that she was free, always free to make her own choices.

  She didn’t go back to the elephant enclosure; she went into her trailer. Tyler puttered around his camp, blowing out the candles, spreading his bag as close to Catherine’s as he could get with the rope in the way, all the while watching for her return.

  When she came back, she was carryin
g her laptop and wearing a white cotton gown and robe, tied at the neck with a scarlet ribbon. Another red ribbon was twined in her curls. He wondered if she had added that ribbon just for him, and upon reflection decided she had. Catherine DeChello liked him, whether she admitted it or not.

  “You look lovely.”

  “I thought it would make a nice change from Big Bird.”

  “You looked great in Big Bird pajamas, too. I’m surprised you didn’t have the mayor eating out of your hand.”

  “He was probably scared he’d catch rabies.” She stepped over the ropes. “Good night, Tyler.”

  The heavenly scent of gardenias drifted in her wake. Tyler smiled. She had used the perfume for him. He could tell.

  “Good night, my angel.”

  She sat cross legged on her sleeping bag and powered up her laptop. For a while she sat there typing, and then finally she turned her computer off and lay down. Within minutes, she was asleep.

  He shucked off his clothes and climbed into his bag. He always slept naked, and he didn’t see any reason to change that. Still, he didn’t want to scare Catherine to death. That thought brought a grin to his face. Naked, he was a fine figure of a man, even if he did say so himself. Of course, many women had also told him so. They had used words like magnificent and glorious and fabulous. He wondered what Catherine would say. He’d find that out, too.

  Life was grand, and getting better all the time. What was more, he felt his muse stirring around, starting to whisper in his ear.

  “Not now,” he said.

  But she didn’t listen. The little sorceress just got louder and louder until he was compelled to get out of his bag and rummage around in his briefcase until he found a legal pad and a flashlight and a pen. He used the picnic table as a makeshift desk. He guessed he looked a sight, sitting hunched over a notepad, naked as an egg, scribbling for all he was worth. But not only was his muse talking, she was going so fast that he could hardly keep up.

  From time to time he glanced over at Catherine. Apparently she was a sound sleeper, for she never even turned over. Tyler thanked a kind God for small favors. He didn’t want her to wake up and think she’d bedded down next to a madman.