Return of the Runaway Bride

by Donna Fasano

After Daniel had left in such a hurry this afternoon, she'd cleaned up the paint mess and then she'd pulled out the file she'd been compiling on the gala dinner. The few phone contacts she'd intended to make had turned into nearly two dozen calls made and received, and by the time she'd finished for the day, her ear actually hurt and her neck had been stiff from holding the phone in the crook of her shoulder as she'd talked, shuffled papers and taken notes.

  Her mind had continued to whirr with thoughts about the fund-raising event as she'd eaten a little dinner and then slipped into the shower. She should have gone to bed hours ago, but organizing these events energized her to the point that sleep was often elusive.

  Sitting here enjoying the night, absorbing the calm, was just what she needed.

  A pair of headlights caught her attention and she watched as a car moved along the street, slowing as it neared her house. She recognized Daniel's car even before it had a chance to come to a full stop. He sat behind the steering wheel for nearly a full minute, the engine continuing to purr.

  She stood and took the few steps that brought her out of the shadows so he could see her. Moonlight struck the satin of her short kimono-type robe and lit the white fabric like a beacon.

  The car's engine went silent, and then Daniel opened the driver's side door and got out. He paused a moment before heading toward her.

  When he was close enough, she softly asked, "Are you okay? It's got to be after midnight."

  He tilted his head a fraction and placed his hand on the post at the base of the porch stairs. "I'm here to pick up my jacket."

  A quiet chuckle bubbled from her. "That sounds more like a question than an answer."

  She realized he was staring at her bare feet, and she instinctively crossed one over the other.

  "You should be wearing slippers," he told her. "Or socks. Or something."

  Savanna smiled. "What? You don't like the color of my polish?"

  He returned her grin. "You could get a splinter from those floor boards."

  They both spoke in hushed tones. There was something almost reverent about the still, hot silence of the night.

  "I'll be okay." She leaned her shoulder against the column. "But I'm not at all sure about you. What brings you out so late?"

  Daniel lifted one shoulder. "I wanted to see you. Talk to you. I didn't want to call and risk waking you, and I wasn't going to ring the bell if I didn't see any lights on."

  When he didn't elaborate further, she pushed. "But… are you all right?"

  "Yes," he said. "I'm better than all right, actually."

  But, again, he fell silent rather than expand on his thoughts, and his expression remained stoic. He slid his hands into the pockets of his dress trousers and lightly jangled his car keys.

  Savanna lifted her wine glass. "Would you like something to drink? I've got merlot. And I think Dad left some scotch in his study."

  A small smile played at the corners of his mouth. "A scotch would be great, thanks."

  She turned and went inside, and he came up the step, following her through the front door, the open foyer and into the study. Savanna flipped on a small lamp and went to the liquor cabinet. She inspected the highball glass before up-righting it onto the cabinet top, and then she pulled out a decanter of scotch.

  "Ice?" she asked, realizing that would necessitate a trip to the kitchen.

  He shook his head. "Neat is fine."

  She poured a jigger of the amber liquid, capped the crystal decanter and handed the glass to Daniel.

  "Thanks." He looked down into the glass, but didn't take a drink. "I have to tell you, this feels weird."

  As he spoke, she'd taken a sip of wine. Once she swallowed, she asked, "Weird?"

  "Yes. You know." He lifted the scotch. "Drinking in your father's house."

  She laughed. "We're all grown up now, Daniel. I promise you, Dad would not disapprove of my offering you a cocktail."

  He sighed and arched his brows. "If you say so. But I don't mind telling you, being in this house makes me feel…" he paused a moment, "…like a randy teenager again." He took a gulp of the scotch.

  "Believe me," she told him, "I know exactly what you mean."

  What she'd meant to convey was that being in her childhood home often made her feel more the adolescent than the adult, but when her gaze clashed with Daniel's she realized that he'd completely misconstrued what she'd said.

  Suddenly, she felt as though someone has sucked all the air out of the room, and she felt the need to drag a lungful of oxygen into her body. His dark eyes focused directly onto hers and the quiet clanged as jarring as cymbals.

  Say something, dammit. The voice in her head screamed at her, but she was caught fast in this startling and silken trap that had seemingly struck her dumb.

  "Can we sit?" he asked.

  "Of course." She moved to the sofa.

  The aged leather was worn and felt supple against her bare calves when she sat and tucked her feet up on the cushion beneath her. Daniel eased himself down much closer than she expected. She could feel the warmth of him, the solid mass of him.

  Savanna sensed he wanted to talk, but as the seconds ticked by, she became a little nervous. Tension continued to build until she could no longer stand it.

  She blurted, "Remember when we snuck into the liquor cabinet?"

  The memory made him shake his head. "Don't remind me."

  Laughter rumbled from deep in her chest. She pressed her fingers to her lips in an attempt to stifle it, but it slipped out nonetheless. "I'm sorry. That was all my fault. I never should have suggested it."

  He shrugged. "I deserved the stern talking to your dad gave me. I was older. I should have known better."

  "Mom must have marked the bottle. It was only wine, for gosh sakes." Her shoulders shook with mirth. "And we only had a little. The way they acted, you'd think we were falling down drunk."

  She watched him take another sip from his glass as she said, "I got you into all sorts of trouble, didn't I?"

  His chuckle was low, and he shifted on the couch, resting his arm along the back. His fingertips were a breath away from her shoulder.

  "It's okay," he told her. "I didn't mind. I actually enjoyed myself. Most of the time."

  A strand of her hair had fallen across her chest and she reached up and absently smoothed the lock between her index finger and thumb. "Still, I'm sorry I got you into so much hot water back then." Then her grin widened. "But I have to say, it sure was easy to talk you into my schemes."

  He paused long enough to take a deep breath. "Savanna," he said softly, "you had a way of looking at me that made me feel…" he searched for the right word "…invincible. When I was with you, I became the 'go to' guy. The person who could make things happen. You made me feel smarter than everyone else, more capable. You made me feel proud of myself." His tone grew more serious as he continued, "With you, I felt stronger… faster… more…" He seemed at a loss.

  "Better?" she offered teasingly.

  He laughed suddenly. "That's it. More better. More better than everyone else."

  She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth. Oh, if he only knew how she'd felt about him then. In her opinion, he had been the most intelligent man she'd ever known, and the most capable, the strongest, the very best in every way, not to mention the absolute sexiest. He had been everything she'd ever wanted. Everything she'd ever needed. But making that admission, admitting just how crazy in love with him she had been, would make her too vulnerable for comfort. So instead, she whispered, "That's exactly what you were, Daniel." Her throat constricted and her next two words came out sounding strained. "More better."

  Tears threatened to well up in her eyes, and Savanna lifted her wine glass to her lips to give her a few seconds to get herself together.

  "Remember when we went to that slasher movie?"

  Daniel's question opened the floodgates of her memories and she grinned. "Mom forbid me to see that film!"

  "Which you failed to tell me un
til after I'd bought the tickets."

  "I know." Savanna wrinkled her nose. "I was bad. But all my friends were talking about that movie. They'd all seen it. I felt so left out."

  "We might have gotten away with it had you not left the ticket stub in your jacket pocket."

  "I know." She performed another nose crinkle. "But that was your fault. Love short-circuited my brain."

  The 'L word' had slipped off her tongue before she'd had time to stop it, but he continued as if he hadn't even heard it.

  "Your mother was furious with me. With both of us." Then he chuckled as he added, "Do you know how hard it was for me not to tell her that neither one of us saw much of the movie?"

  The question caused a languorous smile to spread across her mouth, then their eyes met and held, both of them remembering the smoldering kisses they'd shared in the shadows, tucked away in the very back row. It all seemed so excruciatingly innocent now; he, just starting college, she still in high school, dealing with curfews and restrictions, stealing passionate kisses in the dark confines of a movie theater.

  Savanna had always been aware of how lucky she'd been that he'd been attracted to her. He could have dated girls his own age; girls who, being more mature, would have been freer to go and see and do more of the things that interested a young man. But Daniel had seemed content, happy even, to spend his time with her. And they'd spent every available moment together.

  "If your parents knew about even half the stuff we did, they'd have locked you in your room until after you'd graduated high school." He shook his head.

  Their antics had been harmless, of course. But some of the day trips they'd gone on stood out in her memory. He'd taken her to the botanical gardens in Richmond. Daniel had brought along his camera, and he'd made her feel beautiful the way he'd continued snapping photos of her among the flowers. He'd taken her shopping in Roanoke; the little hole-in-the-wall restaurant where they'd lunched had served surprisingly good food along with an incomparable romantic ambiance. And some of her fondest memories had been when they'd slipped away to Virginia Beach. Golden sunshine, warm sand, gentle surf, and the feel of his hands on her body as he'd applied sunscreen lotion to her skin. If she closed her eyes, she could easily imagine gliding her fingers over the hard hills and valleys of his muscles as she'd smoothed warm lotion on his back and shoulders.

  "Why is everything more fun when it's off-limits?"

  Her eyelids fluttered open at the sound of his voice. She hadn't realized how lost she'd become in the past. Looking into his handsome face now, she realized just how much fun they'd had, how many places they had experienced together. All that time spent laughing, all those endless hours of talking and planning and dreaming had allowed them to come to know each other so well.

  Too well.

  That low, throaty tone, the intensity in those luscious eyes, the way the muscles on either side of his mouth tensed just the slightest bit. Seduction laced that question like a fancy French garter.

  His gaze broke from hers, roving over her face and then traveling down her torso like a physical touch.

  "Why is that?" he murmured. "What makes forbidden fruit taste so sweet?" He traced the curve of her bare shoulder with the pad of his thumb. Then his breath left him in a ragged exhalation. "You're beautiful, Savanna."

  She reached up and slid her fingers over the facings of her delicate robe. "Well," she croaked, "I wore such hideous pj's as a kid…stiff cotton…flannel…" she chuckled nervously "…I splurge these days."

  Without taking his eyes off her body, he leaned forward long enough to set the highball glass on the coffee table. "I'm not talking about what you're wearing."

  Something in her brain blocked out the compliment and she rambled on, "I love the feel of silk and satin. Makes me feel… pretty."

  The small, lazy circles he drew on her shoulder felt delicious and sent heat coursing through her.

  "But you looked pretty in flannel."

  As he uttered that final word, a spark lit his gaze and his mouth contracted into half-smile. All Savanna wanted to do was reach out and glide her fingertips over his jaw, over those luscious lips. But then she blinked.

  You looked pretty in flannel.

  In a flash, she was captured by some strange mental time warp and flung back to that night… that moment… when they'd made love for the very first time.

  She'd been so young when they'd first started dating that Daniel had insisted that the physical intimacies they shared didn't go too far. Even months later, after they had professed their love for one another and Savanna felt 'ready'… ready to go further… ready to prove her love by giving him all she had to give, he was determined that they wait.

  They both suffered months of needless frustration, she'd felt. He already owned her heart. He was already in nearly every waking thought she had. Why shouldn't they express themselves in what she'd always believed was the purest form of love? It was implied in every Jane Austen novel she'd ever read, was blatantly depicted in every romantic movie she'd ever seen. Sex was the most normal and natural declaration of the heart. Besides that, the hormones raging through her body were enough to drive her completely insane. Savanna needed some sort of release.

  When she had pushed him, he'd been adamant that they would wait until her eighteenth birthday, and although she had thought it was a sweet gesture on his part, she was just as adamant that they would not. She began saying and doing everything she could think of to force him to surrender to her wiles. Oh, what a spicy, seductive battle it had been.

  Never would she have guessed that his breaking point would be seeing her in a pair of flannel boxer shorts.

  She tilted her head to the side, brushing at the lock of hair that tickled her upper arm. "What happened to you that night?" The question came out in a feathery whisper.

  Silence swelled and stretched between them until she could hear her heart thudding, and with each passing second the desire he felt for her grew. She saw it in his eyes, sensed it in every tense muscle of his body. His throat convulsed as he swallowed. And she realized that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

  Finally, he moistened his lips and answered, "I don't know." Then he immediately shook his head. "No. That's not true. Not true at all."

  He slipped the wine glass from her hand and set it on the coffee table, and once he leaned back on the sofa, he reached out and picked up one end of the sash of her robe.

  "I'd been away at college," he began, studying the sash as if the satin held some great secret. "I hadn't seen you for weeks."

  The letters she'd written him had been filled with her angst.

  "It had been almost impossible to focus on my classes. I was surrounded by my friends, my classmates and my professors, but I don't think I've ever felt so lonely in my life. I didn't think the semester would ever end."

  She'd suffered the same distraction and desolation.

  "I was expecting you Friday night," she told him. "But you surprised me."

  His left shoulder lifted then fell. "I finished exams a day early. Packing up and driving home just seemed like the thing to do."

  Savanna's heart constricted. "You threw pebbles at my bedroom window."

  "I couldn't wait until morning to see you."

  A knot of emotion rose in her throat and she swallowed in an attempt to allay it.

  He'd missed her. Wanted her. That came as no surprise. He'd loved her. She'd loved him. Desperately. But the sheer magnitude of what they'd felt for each other struck her in a poignant and powerful way.

  She curled her fingers and tucked her hand beneath her chin. "This might sound corny as hell, but I felt like Juliet that night, opening the window to my Romeo."

  "Oh, yeah." He snickered. "That's corny as hell."

  "Daniel!" She gave his arm a light slap, but she couldn't help laughing too.

  His smile lingered as he admitted, "At least you've been able to put a positive spin on it."

  Her jaw went slack. "You don't think o
f that night as something good?"

  "No, no, it's not that." His brow tensed. "It's just that I was conflicted. I still am. I couldn't help feeling that what we were doing was so wrong." He went very still. "Let's face it, what I'm saying is true. You were still seventeen."

  "My birthday was just a few weeks away." Her point was all but lost in the sulky tone of her voice and the childishly stubborn lift of her chin.

  "Savanna, we made love right here." He touched the couch cushion with his index finger. "We had unprotected sex in your father's study." He arched his brows as he added, "And your parents were asleep upstairs."

  She pressed her lips together, unable to deny the truth of what he said. They had both fretted for days and days afterward, until she'd cycled and they realized that they were safe.

  Daniel closed his eyes then, emitting the tiniest of groans. "But there were things about that night that were so right."

  He captured her hand in his and looked into her eyes. He gently pulled open her fingers. The kiss he placed on the center of her palm was deliciously soft, but the addition of a small, hot lick shifted everything. Her blood pulsed thickly through her veins. And when his dark gaze met hers again, she knew without a doubt where this was headed.

  "We probably shouldn't," he grated.

  "You're probably right."

  Savanna ran her tongue over her lips, pondering. She wasn't a teenager any longer. And if there was one thing she'd learned since leaving Fulton all those years ago, it was that calm, rational thinking was the best way to make decisions.

  To hell with that, she thought, pulling her hand from his and sliding her bottom onto his lap. The feel of his day-old beard against her fingertips was utterly tantalizing.

  Doubt sparked in his eyes and he said her name, but she silenced him with a kiss.

  "You want this," she whispered against his mouth. "I want this."

  Bare hunger shoved aside any hint of misgiving he might have been feeling. His hand skimmed along her thigh, skittered beneath the hem of her robe. His touch was scorching hot and softer than the satin she fully intended to shrug out of. The lacy elastic of her panties was no hindrance as his fingers slid beneath it to trace the curve of her hip.