by Peggy Webb
“No one chases me, Sandi. I make decisions and stick to them. I’ll get a room in town tonight.”
“Oh, I can’t disappoint Lucy that way. I’ll just tell her something came up and I have to leave.”
“No. I insist you stay.” Why didn’t he let her go? Why couldn’t he? “For Mother’s sake.”
“I’ll stay if you will.”
“That’s emotional blackmail.”
“I just want everybody to be happy, that’s all.”
“Sandi, you’re a sweet woman. Probably too sweet for your own good.”
The smile she gave him was full of wicked good humor. “Maybe I should transform myself. Maybe I’ll dye my hair red and become a witchy kind of woman who drives men mad.”
God, if she drove him any madder, he’d have to be put in a straitjacket.
“Don’t change. Promise me.”
“If you’ll promise to stay.”
“Deal,” he said.
Why did he get the sinking feeling that the new deal he’d struck with her would be as disastrous as the first?
Chapter Eleven
Matt found his mother in the sunroom having a late breakfast.
“Matt. I’m so glad you decided to come.” Lucy didn’t have to stand on tiptoe to kiss her son because she was wearing the kind of shoes that caused unnecessary falls, big lawsuits and handsome settlements.
“Mother, you’re going to fall and hurt yourself on those things. What are you doing wearing shoes like those?”
“I’m in a party mood. If you’re going to be a sour-puss, just go back to Jackson.” She patted his cheek to show she didn’t mean what she’d said. “Sit down and eat, dear. You look dreadful. Is anything wrong?”
“What could possibly be wrong?”
He didn’t miss the sly look in Lucy’s eyes. “Did you sleep well?”
“Like a brick.”
“Oh, good. Sandi, too?”
“You planned this, didn’t you, Mother? And don’t try to play innocent. You deliberately put her in my room.”
“The house is filled, dear, and you said you weren’t coming. Would you rather have walked in on Chris DeClair?”
“That depends. Who is she?”
“Not she. He. He’s directing Dolly’s picture. A terrific man. They’re in the gazebo. Sandi’s with them.”
Matt pictured him, twenty-seven, slicked-back hair, charming, the kind of man who kissed women’s hands and told them lies. Matt had tennis shoes older than some of those Hollywood directors.
“That should please Aunt Dolly, working for a young director.”
He shoved back his plate and stood up.
“Where are you going, dear?”
“I haven’t seen Dolly yet.”
Chris was looking at Sandi the way she figured he might look at lobsters that restaurants kept in tanks so the customers could pick out the ones they considered most succulent. Besides that, he kept edging his chair closer so his legs touched hers.
She ought to be flattered. Instead, she felt uncomfortable. She tried to think of some remark that would be clever but discouraging, but she didn’t want to hurt his feelings, especially since she was a guest in Lucy’s house. And besides, she didn’t know the first thing about putdowns, clever or otherwise.
“There’s Matt,” Dolly said, then left her chair to give him a hug.
Saved, Sandi thought, which was an odd way to view him considering their brief history. She was halfway out of her chair when she saw the scowl on his face.
Probably because of her. After all, she’d deprived him of his bed and probably his sleep.
She settled back into her chair, and then Chris leaned over and said, “Look, we’re not filming today. How about the two of us sneaking off for a bite of lunch? I hear the barbecue in Mississippi is fantastic.”
“I know just the place,” she said.
When she stood up, Chris put his arm around her waist and she let him. Not that she meant to embark on another of her whirlwind romances, for goodness’ sake. And certainly not that she wanted to make Matt Coltrane jealous.
She wasn’t that kind of woman, and besides, the man could barely stand the sight of her. He wouldn’t notice if she went to lunch with the whole army brass band.
Still, there was something dark and dangerous in his eyes now, something that made her shiver.
“You’re leaving?” Matt’s inquiry was polite and cold enough to freeze her eyelashes.
“We’re going to the pool hall for barbecue.”
“Enjoy.”
“Oh, I plan to.”
“Great. We want all the guests of O’Banyon Manor to have a good time.”
“Thank you.”
She couldn’t look away from his eyes, couldn’t move. Chris began to shift from one foot to the other, obviously uncomfortable with the fearsome-looking son of his hostess.
Matt stuck out his hand to Chris. Belatedly, Sandi thought.
“Matt Coltrane. If you need anything just let me know.”
“I think I have everything I want, thanks.”
The tension was so thick Sandi could taste it, like lightning in the air, close and ready to strike.
“Good. Take care.” Matt wheeled around and strode toward the house.
“What was that all about?” Chris asked.
“Who knows? Let’s eat.”
Indeed, what was it all about?
After she’d made it clear she didn’t want his hands on her, Chris turned out to be a good companion, fun, entertaining, easygoing. He suggested a movie after lunch, one she hadn’t seen, and his commentary made it so interesting she didn’t protest when he said, “Let’s see some more.”
In between features she called Lucy. “Don’t wait dinner,” she said.
“We don’t mind, dear.”
“No, please. Chris and I are going to be very late.”
“I hope you’re having fun.”
“Yes, we’re at the movies. He knows so much. I’m seeing them in a new way.”
“Good. Sandi, hold on a minute, dear. What was that, Matt?”
Sandi couldn’t make out what he was saying, but the sound of his deep voice was enough to turn her insides to butter and make her close her eyes, wishing. She wished they’d met under different circumstances. She wished they’d never been so caught up in the game they didn’t see each other, really see each other. She wished Matt had fallen in love with her.
But oh, she didn’t regret the time she’d had with him, not one minute of it. She hugged herself, holding the precious memories close.
She was making changes, turning her life inside out and upside down, but no matter what happened, no matter where she went or who she was with, she’d always remember Matt. She’d always hold him above the rest, special in ways it would take her days to tell, years, lifetimes.
“Sandi, are you still there?”
“I’m here, Lucy. Sorry.”
“Are you all right, dear?” Lucy said, and hard on her heels came Matt’s voice.
“What’s wrong? If something’s happened to Sandi…”
The rest was muffled. Probably Lucy had put her hand over the receiver.
What, Matt? What would you do?
Sandi closed her eyes, dreaming.
“Sandi?” It was Chris, tapping on the phone booth. “Movie’s about to start. We don’t want to miss the beginning.”
She cracked open the door. “Go ahead. I’ll join you.”
Chris nodded, gave her a thumb’s-up, then headed back into the theater.
“Sandi?” Lucy was back. “Take your time, have fun, stay as long as you like. I’ll leave the front door open.”
“I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”
“It’s no trouble. This is Shady Grove and besides I’ve always contended that if a burglar wants in, a lock is not going to stop him.”
Sandi heard the deep rumble of Matt’s voice once more, and even after Lucy said goodbye and hung up, she sat in the ph
one booth dreamy-eyed, wishing he would be the one waiting for her in the theater. She pictured how it would be: they’d sit in the dark holding hands, thighs touching, reveling in each other. Sexual tension would build and build, but they’d hold it in, satisfying themselves with a stolen kiss or two, mouths open, tongues engaged. She’d tingle all over and pretend to watch the show, but all the time her mind would be filled with Matt, only Matt.
Sighing, she left the phone booth and went to join Chris.
It would be foolish to wait up for her. That’s what Matt told himself. It would send the wrong signal.
Equally foolish to sleep in the chair when he could grab an hour on the bed. He was a light sleeper, especially lately. He’d hear her coming in time to leap into the chair, pull up the quilt and pretend to be sound asleep.
What had he been thinking of, anyway, agreeing to stay? He hadn’t promised to stay in his bedroom, and had actually planned to bunk on the sofa in the library, but no, six of the film crew were down there engaged in a game of poker that looked as if it would last all night.
Besides, Matt didn’t want to risk being caught in the morning by some nosy guest who would wonder why he was sleeping on the couch.
What was keeping Sandi so long, anyhow? Didn’t the theater close at one?
Dolly had assured him Chris was harmless as a puppy, but puppies sometimes licked you all over, didn’t they? Climbed up in your lap and wanted to be cuddled?
Matt paced his room till he was bleary-eyed from lack of sleep and worry. At the rate he was going, he’d fall asleep at the wheel tomorrow driving back to Jackson.
He didn’t know what woke him. The fragrance of gardenia or the feel of soft flesh pressed against him. Momentarily disoriented, he stared into the darkness until he made out the bedposts. He was at O’Banyon Manor.
And the woman in his arms was Sandi Wentworth. He stared at the face only inches from his, long eyelashes resting against cheeks as pink as a damask rose, silky hair fanned across the pillow, perfect lips slightly parted and dewy looking. As if they’d recently been kissed.
A fury unlike any he’d ever known built in Matt. He was jealous. He couldn’t believe it. Jealousy was a petty, unworthy emotion and he wasn’t about to fall victim to such messy feelings.
What he would do was ease out of bed, creep over to the chair, crawl under the quilt and stay there till morning. He glanced at the clock. It was only another two hours away. He could endure anything for two hours, even lying only three feet from Sandi without touching her.
God, she felt wonderful. And she was sleeping deeply. He caressed her arm with his fingertips, and it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough.
Tenderly he brushed her hair back from her face then traced the soft curve of her cheek, the sweet line of her jaw, the irresistible pout on her lips.
He wanted to make love with her. He’d never wanted anything as much in his life. Throbbing and aching with desire, he drew his hips back, afraid he’d wake her. Afraid he’d lose control. Afraid he’d take her like a stallion at stud, all the while telling himself that one more time didn’t matter.
Leave, he told himself. Leave before it’s too late.
He couldn’t though. He had to have one last touch, one last taste.
Drunk on desire and the intoxicating fragrance of gardenia, he bent over her and traced the tender curve of her mouth, bent closer and kissed her lightly. Once. Twice.
Oh, God, it wasn’t enough. He was going crazy.
With supreme effort Matt eased back from her and tried to untangle his arms and legs without waking her. Sweat poured down his face though in summer his mother kept the thermostat low enough to freeze water.
Finally he got his legs and the lower part of his body free, which was a mixed blessing. Should she suddenly wake up, she’d have no immediate cause for alarm. But, Lord, he felt like a man climbing Everest denied the summit.
He was quietly trying to extricate his arm when Sandi rolled into him. They both went as still as deer facing the hunter.
“Matt?” she murmured, sleepy, cuddly, sexy.
“I didn’t mean to fall asleep in the bed,” he said.
He couldn’t move. Her sweet body was curved into him, all her parts a perfect fit, and he couldn’t have moved if elephants were stampeding the bedroom.
“I didn’t want to wake you,” she said, still not moving.
“That’s okay. I was just going to the chair.”
“No, please. Stay.”
How could he refuse? He was holding heaven.
“I don’t mean that the way it sounded,” she said. “It’s just that I want us to part good friends.”
How good did she mean? His one-track mind took that tidbit and ran with it, and his body followed embarrassing suit.
Sandi didn’t notice, which would be insulting if he hadn’t rationalized that she was only pretending.
“We’ll part friends,” he said. “I’ll just ease over to the chair now.”
“Wait. I know I’ve made it hard for you….”
Amen. Any harder and he would explode.
“That’s okay,” he said, still hanging on, still hoping. For what, he didn’t know. He was in no mood for soul-searching.
“And I know you don’t…like me, and who could blame you after all the trouble I’ve caused.”
“You didn’t cause trouble, Sandi. Put that idea out of your head.”
He felt like a soldier who had been holding himself at erect attention for two days. He ached in every muscle of his body. Even in his bones.
The longer he stayed in this bed with her, the greater his chances of not being able to leave. He pulled back but she caught his arm.
“No, please. I know I should have slept in the chair, but I thought, we’re both adults, so neither of us should be deprived of a good night’s sleep.”
“That’s what you thought?”
“Yes.” Her pink tongue flicked across her full bottom lip, and once more he came undone. “But I thought something else, too.”
She sounded like a little girl lost, and tenderness flooded him. He brushed her hair back from her face, her beautiful face that was going to haunt him the rest of his days.
“What was that, Sandi?”
“I thought how good it would feel to sleep curled up in your arms, and since you were sleeping so soundly and I couldn’t ask you, I did it.” In the dark they stared at each other, suspended. Then her tongue came out again, wet, sensual, crazy-making. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, I don’t mind.”
“Good. I didn’t want you to think I was being fresh or suggestive or anything.”
“No, I didn’t think that.”
“Well, good.” Electric, that’s how the air felt. “I wonder since it’s almost morning and we’ve already…you know…would you mind letting me sleep like this till morning?”
“In the bed?” Brilliant, Counselor.
“In your arms. It feels so good and since I know you don’t love me and I don’t love you, there’s no reason why we shouldn’t, is there?”
His blood was on fire. His skin was burning. His heart. “No, no reason at all.”
“Oh, good, then.” She snuggled into him.
And God, the way she felt made him want to throw everything he had out the window, including his law practice, and run off somewhere with her. Vanish. The rest of the world be hanged.
“All right,” he said.
And it was no great sacrifice at all to fold her in his arms, press his face against her hair and hold her, simply hold her.
For the first time since her father had died, Sandi woke up feeling loved. And all because she was sleeping in Matt’s arms.
With the morning sun pinking the windows and casting a rosy glow over the covers, she studied him. He was very handsome in sleep, approachable and even vulnerable.
She knew she had been selfish to ask what she had of him, and yet she didn’t regret it. When she left O’Banyon Manor thi
s time she’d know they had been friends, at least in the end.
That was important to her. There was too much unkindness in the world, too much strife. She didn’t want to add to that.
Of course, all her motives weren’t noble. There was the simple fact that she loved him. Would always love him.
And now she had a really beautiful memory she could cherish the rest of her life. A kind and tender night that felt like love.
She eased out of bed without waking him, dressed quickly then sat down to write him a note. Afterward she propped it on the nightstand, then went downstairs to say goodbye to Lucy.
It was a cowardly thing to do, sneaking off like that, but she knew she couldn’t bear to tell Matt goodbye in person. She couldn’t pretend to be nothing more than a friend. She couldn’t pretend the night had meant nothing to her. It had meant everything.
An hour down the road, she called C.J.
“I’m on my way home,” she said.
“How did it go?”
“It was a pleasant weekend. Lucy’s always fun.”
“With Matt, I mean?”
“Nothing’s changed, C.J. I’m coming home to get on with my life.”
“Good girl. Clint and I have part-time carpenters lined up. We’re starting the house tomorrow.”
“I’ll help. I’m not much of a carpenter, but I can fetch and carry. I need to be busy.”
“I know, Sandi, you’ll be okay.”
“I wish I knew that.”
Matt woke up to find his bed empty. “Sandi,” he called, thinking she was in the bathroom. When she didn’t answer, he called her again.
No answer. He glanced around the room. Her suitcase was gone and a note was on the bedside table. She had written:
Dear Matt,
You were sleeping so soundly I didn’t want to wake you. Please don’t think I’m trying to sneak off without saying goodbye: this note is my goodbye.
He stopped breathing, his heart stopped beating. He was a dead man holding a Dear John letter.
I want you to know that you are the best thing that ever happened to me. Not only did you bring me fully into womanhood—please know I have no regrets about that, only good memories—but you’ve made me see myself in a new light. In many ways I’ve been a child, and I’ve decided to do something about that. Thanks to you, I’m changing. And in positive ways, I hope.
