by Donna Fasano
"Jim," Sheila said, "this bump on Amanda's head needs ice. We should probably go home."
"Okay," he said. "My car's in the lot. I'll carry her." The still sobbing Amanda slid from one parent to the other.
"I'll pick up the lunch things," Savanna offered, "and meet you in the parking lot."
Jim shook his head. "You and Daniel stay and enjoy lunch. I hate to say it, but I don't have room for you in the car. The back seat is loaded boxes, and with the kids' car seats..." He left the rest of the sentence unspoken as he kissed Amanda's tear-streaked cheek. "Okay, honey," he crooned over her sobs. "We'll be home soon."
Sheila shot Savanna an apologetic look.
"It's okay," Savanna whispered to her. "I'll be fine. Go take care of Amanda."
Savanna watched the Thompsons make their way to the car, Jim cradling little Amanda, Sheila with Jimmy's hand firmly in hers.
"You never know what kids are going to do next."
Daniel's sad statement made her turn her attention to him. His dark eyes were filled with remorse, so much so that Savanna touched his arm.
"There was nothing you could have done to prevent that."
"I know," he said. "But that was a nasty bump on little Amanda's head."
"Well, Sheila will take her home and put a cold washcloth on it." Savanna smiled. "And Jim will make over her until it's all better. That's what parents do."
"And poor Jimmy..." Daniel let the sentence lag.
"I'd hate to be in his shoes this afternoon," Savanna agreed.
Savanna realized that the tumultuous scene had drained her of every vestige of nervous energy that had built up in her chest. She looked at Daniel and found the idea of spending some quiet time with him quite pleasing. She'd wanted the chance to talk to him. Maybe, if she eased into the conversation the right way, this could be the perfect opportunity.
"How about some lunch?" she asked.
Daniel's eyes searched her face. Finally he said, "We don't have to do this, Savanna. It's all right. I'll head on home and grab something to eat there. But I will help you clean up."
He dipped his head and went to move past her where the picnic was spread out under the tree. Savanna reached out and stopped him with the barest of touches.
"Please, Danny. Have lunch with me. Let's talk."
Again his dark eyes scanned hers, deeply, probingly. She felt the corded muscles of his forearm beneath her fingertips. He masked his emotions expertly, so Savanna couldn't tell exactly what was going through his mind.
After the eternity of several seconds had passed, she felt him relax, saw his eyes lose some of their intensity. He covered her hand with his own.
"Sure," he said softly.
They walked to the blanket, her hand in the crook of his elbow, his hand gently on hers. The serene aura that surrounded them conjured misty emotions in Savanna. She didn't know why things had taken such an amiable turn, and she refused to question it. Her only thought was to spend some time with Daniel, the man who had meant so much to her so long ago.
As they feasted on Sheila's delicious Southern fried chicken and homemade rolls, they talked endlessly about how they'd spent the past six years. He told her about his sister's fight with breast cancer, a fight she, so far, was winning. He spoke of his mother and how she hadn't wanted to leave Fulton but had felt torn because Celia needed her. Daniel's voice was quiet when he talked about his father's death. The turmoil of taking over his father's law practice had been tremendous it seemed, but Daniel's tone lightened when he revealed the great amount of support the community had given him when he'd taken on the challenge.
Then it was Savanna's turn. She told him all about the lean years she spent acquiring her education. She'd refused her parents' offer of funds, not meaning to hurt them in any way, but as a means of reinforcing her commitment to demand her own maturation, independence and sense of responsibility. It was something she'd simply had to do for herself.
When she said those last few words, she saw a trace of white outlining Daniel's compressed lips, the only indication of his discomposure.
Savanna spent a silent moment wrapping up the remaining chicken and putting it in the basket. Daniel was quiet and she thought that perhaps she needed to change the subject.
Looking over at him, she could see he was content to just sit quietly. The lull in conversation was by no means uncomfortable and she considered relaxing in the tranquility of simply being here. With Daniel. Something, over the last few years, she'd grown to believe improbable if not entirely impossible. But she didn't feel all talked out yet. And besides, she needed to somehow broach the subject of his feelings about their past. Initiating some dialogue would be a start in the right direction.
She tossed him a shiny red apple and then plucked one from the basket for herself. "It sure is a beautiful day."
"Sure is," Daniel agreed, then bit into the fruit.
She tried again. "You know, I never forgot what a wonderful town Fulton is. People still care about one another here. It's not like that where I live. I hardly know my neighbors. I'd love to be able to come home to stay."
Daniel remained silent and Savanna clearly saw her attempt to start a conversation fall flat. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as the silence grew strained.
"I…" They spoke the same word at the same time and then both stopped abruptly.
Savanna chuckled. "Please," she said, "go ahead."
Daniel shrugged. "I was just going to tell you that I'm glad you could get Harvey to fix your plumbing last night."
"But..." Savanna couldn't help the frown of confusion that marred her brow. "How did you know?"
Now it was Daniel's turn to chuckle. "Savanna, you've been in the big city too long. You're back in Fulton. A town where everybody knows everything about everyone. I found out Harvey worked on your plumbing the same way I found out you weeded your flower beds yesterday afternoon. The same way I found out…" his eyes lightened with suppressed humor "…that you spent an ungodly sum of money at the supermarket on convenience foods this morning."
"Okay, okay," she mumbled. "I get the picture. The dreaded small-town grapevine." She eyed him a moment, daring him to laugh, then said, "Well, a girl's gotta eat, doesn't she?"
He finally surrendered to the merriment that danced in his eyes, and Savanna wasn't long in joining him in laughter.
Finally Savanna inhaled deeply of the fresh air. "This park brings back such wonderful memories for me."
"I feel the same," he said quietly.
"My mom used to bring me here." Savanna gazed over at the playground. "She'd push me on the swing until I thought I'd touch the clouds."
"Oh."
She looked at Daniel. "What?" she asked. He seemed so disappointed at the mention of her memory.
"When you said the park brings back memories," he began, "I thought you meant..." He shook his head. "Never mind."
"What?" she pressed. "I'd like to know what you thought I was talking about."
Daniel just shook his head, silently refusing to say more. But the light in his gaze and the delicious grin hovering at the corners of his mouth triggered a memory.
Her lips spread into a broad smile. "I haven't thought about that night in years." She settled back against the trunk of the oak tree. "There was a new moon. And about a zillion stars twinkled in the sky. It was so hot that night. But as you walked me home from the movies holding my hand, I wouldn't have cared if it was raining molten lava."
"I knew it was late," Daniel picked up the story. "I shouldn't have suggested we cut through the park. I shouldn't have lured you to sit on the bench, to linger under the stars, but I couldn't help myself."
"Daniel Walsh, you mean to tell me there was an ulterior motive attached to your suggestion of a shortcut through the park?"
His face actually tinged with pink, but Savanna's open laughter told him she was teasing.
"I was a red-blooded American boy, through and through," he admitted.
"That was th
e most romantic night of my life." Savanna curled her legs beneath her. "My first date. My first kiss. It was all so wonderful."
"Wonderful?" Daniel's frown drew his brows together. "I was sweating like a roasted pig. And we'd barely touched lips before Marty shined that damned flashlight in my eyes."
"Don't you mean…" she mocked a deep, manly tone "…you'll-call-me-Officer-Brown-and-like-it?"
"He'd graduated high school a year ahead of me. Marty earned that badge and his head swelled twice its normal size."
Laughter bubbled up from Savanna's throat. "I thought I'd die when he threatened to arrest you if you didn't take me directly home. I was so embarrassed, and so afraid you'd never call me again. I felt horrible that he gave you such a hard time."
"He wasn't the only one who gave me a hard time." Daniel grimaced. "I was scolded by every person I came into contact with for the next week. Miz Ida topped the list. When I ran into the Kwik-E Mart to buy my mother a pint of milk, Miz Ida demanded to know my intentions where you were concerned. And, I swear, Marty Brown actually growled every time I saw him."
"Stop," Savanna pleaded. "I can't laugh anymore. My stomach muscles are aching."
Daniel gazed at her with dark, serious eyes. He leaned over and brushed her hair from her cheek. "I do agree, though, up until that point…" he let his thumb slide down her jawline "…it was a romantic evening."
He let his hand drop, but he remained close enough for her to smell his cologne, a dark, wild fragrance that enticed a woman to do things she might later regret.
She shook her head to clear the sensual thoughts. She and Daniel were sharing a heartfelt memory, that was all.
"We certainly did have some good times together," she remarked.
"We did."
Impulsively she reached out and touched her hand to his knee. "Oh, Danny, I'm so sorry I ran away like I did."
He drew away from her, but her verbal momentum surged ahead and she continued. "But I had to. I just had to, can't you see? It wasn't your fault. It was me. I tried to explain all that."
"Explain?" His voice nearly cracked as it elevated in tone. "You never tried to explain anything."
Savanna had never before seen such a lightning-fast change in a person's demeanor. One moment Daniel had been calm and serene in his reminiscence, the next he was a mass of bitter energy. His body had gone as stiff as the wood in the tree behind her. He'd actually pinched up a handful of the blanket beneath them.
"But I did," she protested. "I wrote you..."
Daniel just shook his head. "You may have meant to leave a note. You may have meant to get in touch with me, call me, something. But you never did." His eyes narrowed and he savagely repeated, "You never did."
Savanna opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get any words out she saw him struggle with the anger he felt. He took only a split second to control himself and slide a blank mask down over his features. She was awed by the fact that he could so thoroughly hide such explosive emotion.
"I think I should go."
"Daniel," she said, "we have to talk about this. It isn't right for you to deny your feelings this way."
"There's nothing to deny or confess." The words were short and sharp.
"There is," she refuted. "You are angry with me. You're angry that I ran away from our wedding. You're angry that I left you to face our friends."
"I am not."
Savanna pursued relentlessly. "You're angry that I left you to explain everything to your parents. And mine." She moved closer to him. "You're angry that I left you to face the town. All alone." She leaned even closer and she lowered her tone in an effort to gain the biggest impact as she said, "You, Daniel Walsh, are so full of outrage that you don't even know how to deal with it."
His control snapped and his ire glittered brightly in his brown eyes. Savanna felt an instant of triumph, but it was quickly quashed and replaced by uncertainty when he reached up with both hands and firmly cupped her face.
"I guess there's just one way," he whispered, "to prove you wrong." And he covered her mouth with his.
Savanna felt as though she were under siege of his lips, not as if she were being kissed by them. His attack was hot. Fierce. His eyes were wide open and so were hers.
Panic flitted around the edges of her brain, but before the emotion could fully take hold, Daniel ended the kiss by jerking away from her.
"There," he said, his voice ragged as torn cloth. "That ought to prove it once and for all."
He got to his feet and stomped off across the open field, leaving Savanna gaping.
Chapter Four
Daniel slammed the door of his office and stalked across the room. How could he have done something so damned stupid?
He swore under his breath and raked his fingers through his hair. The view from the window showed a calm Sunday afternoon that was a monumental contrast to the fury simmering in the pit of his gut. He was so angry with himself!
Nearly the whole town had been in the park this afternoon. All of them had been watching as he'd had lunch with Savanna. Everyone had seen him kiss her. Hell, he'd practically assaulted the woman.
God, what had he been thinking, kissing her like that? He'd been nothing short of forceful and domineering. His effort to prove he wasn't angry had only served to prove the exact opposite. It were as if he'd been out to kill a spider with a sledgehammer.
He rued the day Savanna Langford had returned to Fulton. Murmurings from different people had alerted him days before Savanna had actually arrived. Daniel had refused to give the situation much thought, really, remembering what his father used to say, "Don't worry until you know there's something to worry about. Don't pay interest on a loan you may never owe."
After Savanna arrived, the word around Fulton was that she wasn't planning on staying for long. Daniel had been surprised by the tremendous relief he'd experienced when he'd learned that news. It had felt as though he'd been permitted to suck in a lungful of cool, fresh air after having held his breath longer than was prudent.
Savanna was visiting Fulton for a month or so. He could live with that. Surely he could smile when he saw her, could politely ask how she was. He'd tolerate her visit, and then he'd gladly escort her to the town limits when she was ready to go back to wherever it was she had come from. He'd felt confident that he could handle the few situations that would arise when he'd be in her company.
But he hadn't. In fact, he'd failed miserably. Of the two times he'd seen her this weekend, the first he'd lost all control of his normally tightly reined emotions and had run like a frightened rabbit out the back door of her house, the second he'd once again lost control and…
"Damn!" The curse echoed off the walls.
What the hell had happened today?
He paced to his desk and sat down.
That fiasco of a kiss wouldn't have happened if Savanna Langford hadn't pushed him beyond the brink. Who did she think she was to come back into town—his town—and confront him about the past? The woman was obviously suffering from grand delusions to accuse him of harboring anger against her all this time. How could he be angry with someone he hadn't thought about for six years?
He scrubbed at his face with open palms.
That wasn't quite true, he had to admit. Daniel put his elbow on his desk and rested his forehead in his hand. He'd thought about her over the years, but not because he'd wanted to.
He could remember many hot, sultry nights when the moonlight and thoughts of Savanna would draw him out into the darkness to walk the streets of Fulton. And during those times he was nearly driven mad by the crystal-clear images that formed in his head; the way the moonbeams turned her hair to liquid silver, the way she'd lift her chin and gaze at him with those huge blue eyes, the way her lips would purse softly as she waited for his kiss.
Then, unable to stop them, Daniel would suffer as his other senses would spark even more vivid memories. He could actually smell the fresh flowery fragrance of her hair, or the scent th
at he smelled every time he buried his face in the curve of her neck, a delicate, heated scent that drove him absolutely crazy. If he concentrated, he could literally feel the way her small hand used to fit in his, or the silkiness of her skin under his fingertips, under his lips.
He rose swiftly and stalked to the window. What was the matter with him? He could feel the pain building steadily. He'd thought he'd dealt with all of this sentimental mind-clutter concerning Savanna. He'd been certain he'd tamped it down until he'd pushed it so far in the back of his brain that he could finally forget the past. Until he could finally live with what she'd put him through. And he had lived with it. Until now.
"Just hang in there," he murmured. "She won't be here long."
Suddenly he paled. What had she said during lunch? He searched his short-term memory for her exact words, but he couldn't seem to recall them. She'd said something to the effect that she liked the idea of living in a small town. No, no, he thought, that wasn't it exactly. His mind ran in a frantic attempt to remember. She'd said that she'd love to move to Fulton.
His heart raced. If having Savanna in town for two short days had rattled him to this extent, how in heaven's name could he exist living in the same town with her?
Impulsively he turned sharply on his heel and pulled open the top drawer of the filing cabinet nearest the window. He flipped through the manila folders. The letters were here someplace, he'd filed them himself.
When he had his hand on the folder, he relaxed a bit and took it over to his desk. He settled himself in his chair and opened the file. The senior partner of Richmond's largest law firm had sent him a partnership proposition annually for the past three springs running. Daniel had politely turned down each offer, but he'd kept the letters.
He stared at the latest offer, but he was so agitated he couldn't seem to focus on the words. If he lived in Richmond, he'd be near his mother. If he was working in Richmond, he'd be near Celia. If he moved away from Fulton, he wouldn't have to worry about running into Savanna. He wouldn't have to run the risk of ever again losing his cool around her.
