by Donna Fasano
"That sounds great."
Savanna tried to ignore the fact that his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.
"And now," she went on, "Ida's come up with a list of caterers in the area. I can't expect to get the food free, but I'll do what I can to keep costs as low as possible. The lower the overhead, the more profit for the hospital."
Watching his jaw muscles work, she thought, He has so little trust in me. If she could only make him see...
"Daniel...I wish there was something I could say..."
But there wasn't. Trusting her was something he had to learn on his own. The realization made her spine straighten. It was so true. Nothing she could say would make one iota of difference. Daniel had to learn he could believe in her all by himself. All she could do was continue to pursue her goal, continue to work toward overcoming Fulton General Hospital's problem. And hope that Daniel realized she was worthy of his trust.
"Something you could say about what?" he asked, unaware of or unwilling to admit that she realized just how uptight he was.
She shook her head. "Nothing." Then a thought came to her…an idea that might alleviate the tension between them and, at the same time, show Daniel how committed she was to this dinner.
"I've been thinking," she said. "Would you consider going on a date with me?"
His brows raised a fraction. "A date? Haven't we been out three nights this week?"
"I meant a few weeks down the road." She could see his confusion, so she hurried to explain. "I'd like for you to be my date for the dinner."
He said nothing.
"The fund-raising gala," she said as a gentle reminder.
"Sure."
"Listen…"
They spoke simultaneously, but Savanna heard the curtness in his too-swift acceptance.
"…if you'd rather not, it's okay. Really," she finished, giving him a chance to rescind.
"I'd like to go to the dinner with you," he said. "It's a date." He stuck out his hand to shake as though it were some kind of business deal they were sealing.
Savanna bit her bottom lip to keep from smiling and looked down at his outstretched hand. "Do you think that's really necessary?"
He gave a self-conscious shrug and lowered his hand to his side.
She felt it would be prudent to change the subject to a more neutral topic.
"Have you had lunch?"
"Yes," he said. "But thanks for asking." Eyeing the white spatters on her arms, he commented, "You've been painting. I'm free the rest of the afternoon. Can I give you a hand?"
"Oh, no," she said, a frown firmly planted between her brows. "You'll ruin your suit..."
"No problem." As he spoke, he shrugged out of his jacket. "I'll just ditch the tie, roll up the shirtsleeves." His hands worked fast as he talked "And, voila! I'm ready to go to work."
"But your trousers. Your shoes," she complained. "I can't let you risk getting paint on your dress clothes."
"I want to," he insisted. "Upstairs?" He took her by the hand and tugged her toward the stairs.
As she trotted up the steps behind him, she felt her stomach churn with anticipation at spending time with the open and friendly Daniel who had returned as soon as the subject of the dinner was dropped. It was so obvious that he, too, was playing the ostrich, putting his distrust of her out of his head as much as possible. That fact told Savanna that Daniel liked spending time with her just as much as she liked spending time with him.
He started into the wrong room.
"No, no," she said. "Next door down."
Then Daniel stopped short.
"What have you done?"
Savanna nearly ran into his broad back. "What do you mean?" she asked.
Peering around him, she studied the room, the drop cloth covering the floor, the paintbrushes and roller she'd left out, the open bucket of paint. Then she saw what made him ask his question, made his tone a mixture of amusement and utter disbelief.
The walls were marred with long, irregular streaks of color. Some of the paint stripes were a bright white, while others were spread so thin that the beige undercoat clearly showed through.
"Who taught you how to paint?" Daniel asked, chuckling.
"No one," she said.
His mouth split into a wide grin. "Obviously."
"Hey," she said, her ego slightly injured. "I thought I was doing okay."
She walked to the center of the room and looked at the two walls she'd spent a good portion of the morning painting.
"Lord, what a mess," she muttered.
"It's all right." Daniel placed his hand on her shoulder. "We can fix it."
"You think so?" She twisted and looked into his face.
He nodded with confidence. "I'm certain of it."
The next thing she knew, she was painting with the roller and he was brandishing a paintbrush. But she hadn't made two swipes across the wall before Daniel stopped her.
"You can't cover the entire wall at one go. Try painting one small space at a time," he said. "Here, let me show you."
He stepped up behind her, reached around and curled his fingers over hers on the handle of the roller.
"Small strokes," he instructed, his voice a scant inch from her ear.
His breath tickled the sensitive flesh of her neck and a delicious shiver raced up her spine. He was so close, the intoxicating scent of his cologne overpowered the fresh paint smell that permeated the room. They stood, arm against arm, body against body, thigh against thigh, as he showed her the proper way to roll paint onto the wall.
"The reason you have so much streaking," he explained, "is because you were spreading the paint out too thin."
She barely heard his words; her attention focused on the feel of his hard chest against her back. The springy hairs of his bare forearm tickled her skin. His biceps muscles flexed against her shoulder with every upward swing of his arm. His tight stomach pressed to the small of her back; his taut thigh molding with hers.
Breathless and exuberant, she prayed he wouldn't move away from her too quickly. She enjoyed the closeness, and besides, she doubted her rubbery legs would hold her up on their own.
She blinked, realizing that they'd stopped pushing the roller. Instinctively she turned her head and found herself looking into Daniel's sexy, dark eyes.
He studied her a moment, and then commented softly, "We'll never get the room painted like this."
Savanna smiled at him.
Curling his index finger under her chin, he locked his gaze onto her lips.
"You don't know what that smile does to me," he murmured. He hovered there, his mouth a breath away from hers. Then he stepped away from her and picked up the paintbrush.
She refilled the roller with paint, more than a little disappointed that he turned out to be such a conscientious helper. And a blatant tease.
After a few minutes, Daniel said, "It's good to know that some things don't change." He pointed to the radio. "You still like soft pop."
A flush crept over her cheeks when she realized she was singing aloud. Badly.
"What can I say? I love love songs," she admitted. "Do you still like that stuff from the sixties?"
"Folk music," he said.
She chuckled. "Folk music, then."
His smile was lopsided as he said, "Give me a good croon from Bob Dylan any day,"
"But he's so...old."
"Oh, you wound me." He pressed his palm to his chest. Then his eyes twinkled as he grinned at her. "You were just doing a pretty good imitation of him, by the way. In his younger days, of course."
Turning back to face the wall, she feigned a huff and said, "I'll never sing to you again."
As she rolled the paint onto the wall, she was acutely aware of him. His every move demanded her attention. But he seemed totally concentrated on covering the wooden trim with white paint.
She couldn't help but wonder why being with him made her so gloriously happy. It wasn't just a physical thing. Even though she'd thoroughly enjoyed the k
iss they had shared, even dreamed of enjoying another in the immediate future, the fact remained that they had shared only one kiss. The other times they'd had together over the past week had been spent in interesting and lively conversation, comfortable silence or good, old-fashioned teasing.
She liked Daniel and couldn't help but wonder if he felt the same about her. A dark cloud overshadowed her sunny thoughts. If he did feel the same as she, why hadn't he mentioned the fact that he was thinking of leaving? Why did he continue to distrust her?
There were some things she could do something about, and some things she couldn't. Focusing on the pristine white wall, she put all her efforts into the job at hand.
An hour later, Savanna dropped the roller into the empty paint tray.
"How about a break?" she asked.
Daniel stood and stretched the kinks from his back. "Sounds good to me."
"I'll get us something to drink."
He caught her wrist as she passed him, and he turned her to face him.
In a husky voice, he said, "You look young in that getup. Really young."
She hitched up the neckline of her t-shirt from where it had slipped to reveal her bare shoulder. The self-conscious action forced her to look away from Daniel's serious gaze.
"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" The teasing quip belied the disquiet she felt.
"Oh," he was quick to add, "I know you're a full-grown woman underneath. I just thought you'd like to know you could still pass for an ornery teenager if you ever had the inclination to."
"Ornery teenager?"
The grin that played on his mouth held a mixture of sensuousness and boyish charm, a combination Savanna found overwhelmingly alluring.
"And if I had the inclination?" The seductive sound of her voice surprised and pleased her both at the same time.
"Well," he said, his own tone tantalizingly sexy, "I thought, if you were ever in the mood for a little... fun."
As he said the last word, he reached up and smudged a glob of paint onto the tip of her nose.
"Hey!" Savanna swiped the back of her hand across the slick wetness. "You want to play, huh?"
She whirled around, grabbed the paint roller and wielded it like a weapon. Bending her legs, she lowered her center of gravity and balanced her weight first on one foot, then the other.
"You dirty rat," she imitated the gangsters from old-time movies. "I'm between you and the door, see. You'll never get out alive." She chuckled. "Or at least unpainted."
"Now wait a minute," he said. He straightened and took a step toward her. "I didn't mean to start anything."
"It's too late for regrets now, Mugsy."
Daniel laughed. "What? Have we been transported to some 1940s black and white gangster movie?" He took another step forward. "Come on," he coaxed. "Give me the roller."
He stretched out his hand and Savanna saw a perfect opportunity, an opportunity of which she intended to take full advantage.
With the speed of a jackrabbit, she pushed the roller up the length of his flattened palm.
"I can't believe you did that!"
Daniel crouched like a defensive linebacker and Savanna shrieked. She dodged past him, but he caught her around the waist. They tumbled to the floor, a laughing, squealing, paint-flinging mess.
"You shouldn't have done that, Copper." Now he, too, mimicked hackneyed films of yesteryear.
She struggled under his weight. The hint of threat in his words may have been made teasingly, but she knew he meant to retaliate.
"Take this, you dirty rat."
Savanna felt his paint-streaked hand span her thigh and, for an instant, a jolt of desire shot through her. But then his fingers trailed down her leg, leaving behind a wet, sticky streak of paint. She screeched and laughed at the same time.
They sat up, both breathing hard from their escapade. She saw him look at her and a fresh bout of chuckling had him holding his stomach.
"What's so funny?"
"I think," he commented, pulling out his handkerchief, "that you came out of this a little more painted than you intended."
He gently wiped her jaw, and she realized that she must have pressed her cheek against the paint roller during the tussle.
Daniel stood and then held out his hand to help her up.
"Truce?" he asked.
Savanna grinned up at him. "Truce."
"Go get yourself a shower," he said. "I'll wash up at the kitchen sink."
"I'll hurry," she called over her shoulder.
As she came down the stairs, showered, dressed and paint-free, Savanna heard the strains of a tinkling Mother Goose tune floating in from outside. She ran down the last few steps and over to the screen door.
"It's the ice cream man. The ice cream man!"
Running out onto the porch, she searched the street.
"You want a cone?"
She turned to see Daniel sitting on the porch, two glasses of iced tea on the small table beside the rocking chair.
"I'd love one," she said gleefully. "I used to get an ice cream treat almost every day when I was a kid."
The excitement twinkling in her eyes and her wide smile took Daniel's breath away. God, he loved just looking at her. Her carefree exuberance was downright irresistible.
"Wait right here," he told her.
He jogged to the curb and flagged down the truck.
"Two vanilla cones, please." He fished some dollar bills from his pocket. "Oh," he added, "dip one of those in chocolate sprinkles."
On his way toward the house, he studied Savanna as she sat on the step waiting for him. Her whole body conveyed the anticipation she felt. Daniel could feel it himself. He'd enjoyed getting to know her again over the past week.
A small frown wrinkled his brow as a tiny voice in his head asked, What will you do when you wake up one morning and find that she's abandoned you, and the hospital, and all the people of Fulton?
He knew it was going to happen. Just as sure as the sun would rise, he was certain that Savanna would someday leave him and the people at the hospital high and dry. Well, he might not know it, but he'd be a fool if he didn't remain vigilant of the possibility.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, willing the dark thoughts to the back of his brain. Maybe he wouldn't even be around to deal with the mess she was sure to cause. Maybe. But if he was still in Fulton when she disappointed the townspeople, he'd deal with it. He had once, he could do it again. But for the moment, he wanted to enjoy the simple pleasure of just being with her.
"Here you go." He handed her the cone covered in chocolate sprinkles and then sat on the porch step next to her. "And by the way, it was an ice cream woman."
He watched her tongue flick out to capture some of the chocolate candies coating the ice cream.
"Mmmm."
Tension knotted in his stomach, hot and tight. He wanted her, he couldn't deny it. But his instinct for self-preservation saved him. Kept him from rubbing his thumb over her ice-cream-coated lips. Kept him from tasting the chocolate sprinkles that were melting on her tongue.
"You know," she commented, "Fulton is such a beautiful place. The people are true neighbors. They care about each other. You don't find that much where I live. Don't get me wrong, I've made some good friends. But it's just not the same."
Daniel licked at a drip of ice cream that was sliding down his sugar cone.
"I've never seen an ice cream truck traveling down the street I live on." Savanna wiped at the corners of her mouth with her fingers. "If someone from Fulton had a problem and needed to call the police, chances are he'd know the policeman, feel comfortable that someone was concerned." She grimaced. "In the city, you're lucky to have the police show up. And they're so hardened by the things they experienced, they don't have it in them to feel excessive concern. Maintaining the law is just another job in the city."
What she said was most probably true, Daniel mused.
"Towns like Fulton take care of their own," Savanna went on. "I remem
ber the Christmas before I left there was a family whose house burned down. Mom and I took them blankets and clothes."
From the faraway look in Savanna's eyes, Daniel could tell she was caught up in a memory.
"That family told us about the help they'd received. Not just household items, but money and groceries, even toys and gifts for the children's Christmas." She nodded, her eyes still distant. "Fulton takes care of its own...where, in the city, there's so much coming and going, it's hard to even get to know who's living next door to you."
Daniel took a bite of his cone. Fulton was a good town, a wholesome town. Everything Savanna said was true. He could easily recall people who had been helped and cared for when they were unable to do for themselves. Hadn't friends and neighbors showed his family kindness and caring when his father had died? And Fulton had other quaint qualities.
Only in a small town would you find the school buses dropping children off right at their front doors, or mailmen who stopped in for coffee and a discussion of local affairs. Or ice cream trucks offering frozen confections that had children screaming with delight.
Fulton was a town he wanted to live in. Daniel sat up straight, realizing in that instant that he'd made an important decision.
He looked at the woman beside him. It had taken Savanna, someone who had left Fulton and returned to notice all that she had been missing, to make him see that he never wanted to leave.
"Listen," he said, popping the last bit of cone into his mouth. "I have to run. There's something I need to do."
"But, your jacket…"
"I'll get it later," he promised, then strode off with purpose in his step.
~ ~ ~
Humidity weighed down the hot air. Thin cirrus clouds scudded high across the night sky, casting lacy shadows on the lawn. The quiet was heavenly. The temperature inside the air-conditioned house would have been a whole lot more comfortable. Still Savanna continued to sit on the porch swing, sipping at her half-empty glass of merlot.
