Yours to Savor

by Scarlett Edwards

  “How can you be so sure? You don’t know me.”

  “I know enough.” His eyes twinkled. “So, he proposed to you?”

  Sandra nodded. “Getting engaged was the safe choice for me. He promised to look out for me when we got married, but first we had to move to Dallas for his job. The move was supposed to be temporary—eighteen months, no more—so I agreed. I put grad school on hold for him.”

  “But you never got married?”

  “No. I told him I wanted to do the ceremony at home, surrounded by family and friends. He couldn’t take time off for that, not when he’d just returned to the firm. It wouldn’t have looked good to his superiors. So he agreed to delay the wedding until we moved back from Dallas.”

  “A guy who put his career ahead of you never deserved your affections in the first place. But I think you know that. The way you speak of him…” he trailed off, frowning.

  “What?”

  He looked at her, that piercing, unblinking gaze searing right into her soul. “You didn’t love him.”

  Sandra’s eyes widened, and she felt a fluster of heat enter her cheeks. Her pulse quickened. How well Brandon could read her was… unbelievable. “No,” she agreed finally. “No, I never did. I was following the safe path. I always felt obligated to do that.”

  “By whom?”

  Sandra sighed. “By society?” She shrugged. “I don’t know. My parents thought it was good for me, too. I think they were mostly looking out for their youngest daughter.”

  “So because of them,” Brandon nodded. “I get it.”

  “Even my friends pressured me toward the engagement,” she admitted. “I remember… I remember my girlfriends being so jealous. I was the first of us to be proposed to. It was our last week in school. They threw me a party, and I remember looking at them, showing them the ring, wearing a smile on the outside… but on the inside, I envied all of them. They were not tied down to anyone. Not yet. They could still change their lives.”

  “It’s never too late to change your life,” Brandon observed.

  “I wish somebody would have told me that back then. It took another year before I started to figure it out.”

  “Is that how you ended up here?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you moved to Dallas with this guy. Did anything happen to make you break it off?”

  “No. Nothing… happened,” Sandra admitted. “Not really. That was the problem. The move to Dallas was exciting at first. It was a new city, we had a new apartment, new furniture, new everything. But it didn’t take long for us to fall into a routine. He would work long days, leaving at seven in the morning, coming home at nine at night. It wasn’t supposed to be like that. When we were in school, even though he focused on his classes, he’d find time for me almost every day. I thought it’d be similar in Dallas, but I was wrong. He started putting work ahead of everything—ahead of me. But he never drank. He never yelled, never got mad. He was faithful. There were no problems with him, except—”

  “He was insipid.”

  “Yes!” Again, Sandra was impressed by his insight. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Practically, it wasn’t a bad situation. I’d imagine many girls would be… maybe not happy, but satisfied… with that arrangement.”

  “You’re not any girl.” Brandon trailed his fingers along her arm. Shivers followed his caress on her skin. She was glad the sweater hid them from him. “You’re more than that. You need variety in your life. If you’re trapped by routine….you become dissatisfied.” He paused. “So, how did it end?”

  “It ended on the one-year anniversary of our engagement. I was dreading the day for months because I didn’t want the rest of my life to look like the year we spent together in Dallas.” That was also when the nightmares had become unbearable. “The whole year was stationary. After we got settled in, nothing changed. Don’t get me wrong!” she hastened to add, “I didn’t expect—or even want—things, so it wouldn’t have mattered if he showered me with gifts every week. It’s just… everything was so monotonous. I was sinking, slowly going under without even realizing it. There was no excitement in my life, no passion.”

  Sandra hesitated, deciding how much more she wanted to add. Brandon remained silent, willing her to go on. She continued with a breath. “Maybe I should have picked up on my feelings earlier. But you have to understand that when I first moved in with him, I had just finished four grueling years of university. And I worked incredibly hard in high school just to get that opportunity. So for the first time in eight years, I had time to myself. I was free to do what I wanted. I could catch up on things I’d missed doing, things I had put aside: Books, movies, and everything else I’d neglected before. The plan was for me to go to grad school when we moved back from Dallas, so I savored my freedom at the start.

  “With Henry gone for so long each day, I had almost unlimited time to myself. Maybe it would have been different if I had tried to make more friends, but when we got there, I was just so happy to be free, you know, to finally be able to have time to myself without school looming over, that I ignored that part. But that freedom… was an illusion. Oh, maybe I didn’t have course work to do, or things to study for, but I had stepped into an even worse trap. It took a whole year for that realization to sink in.

  “And then the day arrived: the one year anniversary. When Henry proposed, I wasn’t saying yes because I loved him. I said yes because I thought it was the safe path. So even though accepting was my choice, I never made the choice.” She shook her head. “Does that even make any sense?”

  “Of course it does,” Brandon said softly. He was completely attentive, focusing on every word she said. Sandra felt that he understood what she was saying, and, moreover, that he appreciated it—appreciated her opening up to him.

  “He was in love with me,” she continued, “but I never felt anything in return. Or, whatever I may have originally felt quickly faded. I wasn’t living my life. When the anniversary hit, there was no denying it any longer. I had to make a choice. My choice. The one I didn’t make the first time. If I married Henry… I could already see the rest of my life flash before my eyes in little piecemeal bits. First, there would be the marriage. Then, the pregnancy. Then, the kids. There was no way I’d be able to go back to school after that. Before I knew it, I’d be dependent on Henry—and for what? Because all the people around me thought he was good for me?”

  “So you left him.”

  “Yes. That day, when he came home, I told him exactly how I felt. I thought it would break his heart… but he kind of just shrugged and accepted things. It wasn’t like Henry to be confrontational. He never fought for what he wanted if it wasn’t related to his career. So, even though I thought he loved me, maybe he didn’t. He let me go.”

  Brandon grunted. “Any man who lets you go without a fight is a moron.”

  “You’re just saying that…”

  “No, Sandra, I’m serious. You deserve more than that. The story you told shows that you’re strong. Stronger than most women would be. It would have been easy to leave him if something had prompted it—if he had cheated on you, if he hit you, if he were a drunk. So few people have the courage to turn away from the well-travelled path to do what they want. That takes real courage.” Brandon smiled. “I should know. I did something similar with my life. What you did speaks volumes about you as a person,” he noted. “It’s… impressive.”

  “Thanks.” Sandra hid her own smile as she lifted her glass to her lips, took a sip. Then she giggled. “Wow! Look at me. I’ve never told all that to anyone.”

  “Maybe you trust me,” he said softly.

  Before Sandra could even fathom a reply, he pointed off into the distance and said, “Look.”

  Brandon pointed out to the sea, and Sandra realized that as she’d been talking, the sun had sunk lower and lower on the horizon. Now it sat in a fat red ball at the end of the world. The light of the setting sun illuminated the island before them in a brilliant shower of
crimson. The shadows of the tall evergreens fell upon the water like long sentries, and Sandra felt like she was watching the world take its last breath.

  She stood there, regarding the splendor of the sunset in quiet awe. She sighed as the sun dipped below the horizon. “You timed this perfectly, didn’t you?”

  “I knew I had an hour.”

  “Maybe I can give you more time.”

  He raised an eyebrow, and tilted his head down to regard her. Sandra felt the heat of his gaze again, and her imagination ran wild as she imagined his lips falling onto hers, consuming her skin with delicious kisses. What promises did Brandon’s touch hold? Would their passion run wild and unabated? Would she lose herself in his embrace? What flurry of emotions would overcome her as their lips met? How much would instinct take over conscious control of their bodies?

  Brandon was so close that she could all but breathe him in. She yearned to taste the salty sea spray on his lips, to feel her skin prickle beneath his affectionate touch.

  “Sandra…” Brandon trailed off. He shifted the glass of champagne to his other hand, and brought it around to press against the small of her back. Even through her sweater, she sensed the coldness of the glass, and tensed as the feeling spread through her spine in clashing contrast to the heat from his fingers.

  “You know,” he admitted in a half-murmur, half-growl, “I don’t really know how to do this.”

  “What are you talking about?” Her voice came out as a whisper as his finger started to entice her senses, gently, lightly grazing her upper arm. Sandra caught herself melting under his caress. She tried to suppress the feeling with all her might. This man is telling me he doesn’t know what he’s doing with me?

  “This.” Brandon took his hands off her, making her instantly yearn for his touch again, and motioned at everything around them. “The yacht. The champagne. You.”

  “You’ve done perfectly. I totally misconstrued you before,” she confessed. “You’re a sweetheart.”

  She stood on her toes and kissed him on the cheek.

  His gaze changed in an instant. Fire exploded in his eyes. She had only the briefest sliver of a warning before his mouth crashed into hers. The passion of his tongue was overwhelming. She didn’t remember telling her lips to open so easily, but they did. Brandon kissed her with the raw edge of a man who desired a woman completely.

  Sandra’s mind went blank, and she lost herself in Brandon’s power.

  Brandon pulled back. It took all his restraint to do it, and he almost lost his self-control as Sandra blinked at him with those delicious doe eyes and opened her mouth for more. The way she looked at him, with her eyes tugging at her soul, told him she was ready for more. Right away.

  No. He wanted to do this right, goddammit, and wouldn’t ruin it by taking her so early. Even if she was willing, he would not allow her to be pulled into his arms and led in the song and dance that would end with both of them panting in bed.

  Brandon understood that whatever reservations Sandra had about men in her life—including him—were only barriers she put up to protect herself. He could push through them—he saw how naturally her body reacted to him. While they might deceive less experienced men, Brandon sensed the depths of her desire.

  But if he pushed, she might see herself as no more than a one-night stand. If Brandon took her to bed tonight, tomorrow she might wake up and assume that he had no deeper intentions. It would tarnish the romance he’d begun to build on his yacht. And if this was supposed to be his first attempt at a serious relationship, he had to take things slow.

  No matter how difficult it was for him.

  Brandon couldn’t remember the last time he had wanted a woman like he desired Sandra. But he couldn’t act on his passion yet. He knew that he could be the warrior who captured her body for one evening, could be the one to bring her untold pleasure this night. She might remember him after—even think back on the day with a prurient nostalgia—but that wasn’t all he wanted. He aimed for something deeper.

  He wanted to reach her on a more profound level. The effort he’d gone through to find her this morning, to set up the evening—timing the trip with the sunset, picking out the best champagne—all that would go to waste if she left with a bad taste in her mouth after one night of sex.

  So, he had to step away.

  The story she told him explained some of her behavior—but he was sure she hid another secret. No matter how comfortable she might feel around him, there was no way she’d reveal everything about herself in one night.

  She deserved better than the men she’d had in her life. The way she talked about Henry assured Brandon that the sex had been as passionless as the rest of their relationship. He sensed Sandra’s yearning for zest, excitement, and real feeling. She’d wrapped herself too tight in a cocoon of self-deprivation. Brandon wanted nothing more than to take her young, inexperienced body on a journey to the heights of pleasure she could reach with him.

  But. Not. Yet.

  He needed her to be completely open to him for that. The story about her last relationship was a start, yet it would take more time for her to trust herself with him. Brandon wanted to create an environment where she could blossom into the woman he imagined her to be.

  Besides, that peculiar feeling that he knew her from somewhere still troubled his mind. It would take more than one night for him to discover where that came from. And that vague impression of familiarity grew even stronger when she told him she was from Chicago—he’d grown up there.

  Sandra stepped up to him, looking confused and slightly hurt. His hands ached to explore the delicious curves of her body, and he wanted nothing more than to ravish her with the pure, aggressive passion that boiled in his blood. He wanted her sweet lips back against his own, wanted her—

  No, dammit!

  She blinked as he stepped away, widening the distance between them. One more touch from her would kill him. He clasped both hands behind his back lest they misbehave. Besides, I have to get back to Clarisse soon.

  “The hour’s up,” he said gruffly. The words came out too rough. He saw disappointment flash on Sandra’s face, tinged by a hint of surprise. As quickly as those emotions had come, however, they disappeared. Sandra stood straight. A cool look settled upon her dark liquid eyes. The walls were up again. She was hiding the truth of her feelings.

  “Oh.”

  It took all the willpower he had left in his body to turn and walk away from Sandra. Her delicate skin called to him like a siren out at sea, promising the allure of her womanly aroma, of her feminine being. If she’d been anybody else—anybody else!—he would have taken her there and then, right on the deck of the yacht.

  And forgotten about her the next morning.

  But he was not ready to forget Sandra. “I need to take you back to shore.” He heard a sharp intake of breath, and hated himself for saying the words. But, in a way, he was proud of what he had done. Forming an intimate relationship with Sandra would take time. It would take patience. “I have a meeting to attend,” he said gruffly.

  The sail back was quiet. Sullen. Doubt brooded in the back of Sandra’s mind. Had she been too willing when Brandon kissed her? Had she scared him off by how easily she’d responded? Did he think of her as no more than some mindless slut?

  Or, does he have another woman in his life? she wondered.

  He seemed to be stewing in his own thoughts, so Sandra gave him space as he steered the yacht back to shore.

  When they arrived at the dock, Brandon followed her off the boat, but his movements were stiff and cold. He was not himself—or at least the self she remembered laughing with her on the boat.

  “I have work,” he said finally. “Otherwise… otherwise, I’d ask you to stay.” He turned away.

  Sandra looked at him, not understanding the change in his demeanor. When he turned back and cracked a smile, Sandra could tell it was forced. “Well, you gave me the hour. Next time, we’ll do it right.”

  “Next time?” sh
e asked.

  “I want to see you again. You told me your story… yet you barely know mine.” He cursed, glancing at his watch. “I really have to go. I’d take you home, but I can’t. There’s a taxi waiting on the street. It’s paid for.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Is this the rejection?

  She turned away, started down the dock. Alone.

  “Sandra.” She stopped on hearing her name. “Wait.” A glimmer of hope parted the clouds in her mind. Did he have a change of heart? She turned back, excitement building inside… and was crushed when Brandon cupped her chin as if she were a child, and placed a perfunctory kiss on her cheek.

  “I will see you again,” he promised, and then turned around to go back to the boat.

  As she climbed the steep face of the cliff, one thought kept churning through her mind: What kind of business could take place on a boat… at night?

  Chapter Six

  Sandra’s mood had improved considerably by the time she got back to her apartment.

  She’d had ample time to replay the kiss in her mind, to figure out what went wrong. There was nothing she would have done differently.

  There was a fire within Brandon when he kissed her. He wanted her, and—God—she could not deny wanting him. But then something had changed, and he became… restrained. When he stepped away, she thought he was rejecting her. But later, when he said he wanted to see her again, she understood that it hadn’t been a rejection.

  Why would he make such a spectacular effort if his interest wasn’t genuine? The perfect timing with the sunset, the exquisite champagne, the passionate way he listened as she babbled on about her life… all of it made him seem compassionate and caring—not at all like the egotistical man of her first impression. Something else must have triggered his unexpected restraint, she thought. Something not to do with me.

  Despite the awkward ending to the date, the night had been magical. It was the best night she’d spent with a man in years.