by Peggy Webb
“Hello, Matt. Won’t you come in?”
She’d turned off all the lights, lit candles, spritzed her exotic fragrance around the room. Make that five minutes if he didn’t get hold of himself.
Suddenly two golden fur balls barreled into the room and launched themselves at his legs.
“I see the puppies are thriving.”
Sandi scooped them both up and cuddled them close. “Aren’t they adorable?”
It was on the tip of his tongue to say, All three of you are, but he caught himself just in time.
“Yes,” he said, then took a seat across the room. No sense playing with fire. But even the small distance didn’t lessen her impact.
God, she was the most stunning woman he’d ever seen. She absolutely glowed.
“You’re looking good,” he said. “Starkville agrees with you.”
“Thank you.”
Why did that make her blush? She was acting downright shy around him. Was he that intimidating?
As eager as he was to present his plan, he didn’t want to plunge right in while she seemed so ill at ease.
“Sandi, we have a lot to talk about, but first I want to make sure you’re completely comfortable with me. If there’s anything you want to tell me, please go right ahead.”
“What would I want to tell you?”
“To go to hell.”
She laughed. “Oh, no. I would never tell you that.”
“Okay. That’s a good start.”
“A good start for what, Matt?”
“An extension of our friendship.”
She leaned her cheek into one of the puppies, and his heart grew two sizes. God, how could such an artless pose completely undo him? His plan flew out the window and he forgot what he’d been going to say.
“Of course I’m your friend,” she said. “I hope we can always be friends.”
“Good.”
“Great.”
He stared at her with such naked longing he wondered she didn’t call bodyguards. Quickly he rethought his plan. Maybe three years was too long for a courtship. Maybe he could cut that down to two. Or one.
Matt took a deep breath. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since I saw you last.” Okay. That was better. His libido was quieting down a little and his brain cells were beginning to kick back in. “I’d like us to spend more time together, get to know each other better.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Where is this leading, Matt?”
“To a courtship, I hope. You’re a kind and wonderful woman, Sandi. The most remarkable I’ve ever met.”
Visions of her in his bed sidetracked him, and he cleared his throat. Twice. God, how could he be so nervous? He was a trial lawyer, for Pete’s sake. He’d faced hostile juries and enraged witnesses without blinking an eye. And now in the face of one soft and appealing woman, he didn’t know his left foot from his right.
Maybe he should have read Sinful.
“Thank you” was all she said. Was that good or bad? Then, “Can I get you something to drink? Tea? Wine?”
“Wine, please.”
She left in a swirl of swingy skirts and a cloud of heady scent that rendered him weak-kneed. He played with the puppies while she was gone and thought he’d regained his composure till she handed him the wine.
Up close she rendered him speechless. He wanted to touch her, to run his tongue over her dewy skin, down into that enticing cleavage. No, more than that. He wanted to take those intoxicating breasts deep into his mouth and suckle till they were both mindless with pleasure.
He took the wine with a polite thank-you, but he didn’t breathe again till she was across the room and safely out of reach.
Slow down, old man, he told himself. The last thing he needed was a repeat of events at O’Banyon Manor. The last thing he needed was to fall into bed without thought of the consequences.
“This is good wine,” he said. He noticed that she was drinking a large glass of milk. “You’re not drinking?”
“No. I don’t have much head for wine, if you recall.”
“I do.” Vividly.
Actually that’s how it had all started, him putting her to bed. God, if he didn’t get the bedroom off his mind…
“So do I,” she said, beautifully flushed and looking more luscious than he’d ever seen. “How do you think people fall in love, Matt?”
“If you’re asking do I believe in the fairy-tale romance my mother writes, my answer is no.”
“Oh…”
“Not that I don’t believe in love, Sandi. I think it might be possible to grow to love a person if you spend a sufficient amount of time getting to know them really well.”
“How much time?”
“Two or three years.” Her crestfallen look pierced his heart. “Maybe one.”
“I think people who are meant for each other can fall in love at first sight. Maybe it’s pheromones or something, I don’t know. Pascal once said, ‘The heart has its reasons of which reason knows nothing.’ I really believe that, Matt.”
“It’s romantic, I’ll grant you that.”
“What’s wrong with romance?”
“What’s wrong with careful planning and judicious decision making?”
“Nothing, really. It’s just that the excitement of the unknown and the unexpected is such fun.”
“You should be standing where I am when the excitement wears off. Divorce is not pretty, Sandi.”
She didn’t say anything. Just gave him this look. God, how had he gotten off onto divorce? If there was a less romantic topic, he didn’t know what it would be.
This conversation was not turning out at all the way he’d planned. Here he was offering her a reasonable courtship where, if there were no guarantees, at least they’d have a good shot at developing a bond that would last. And what did she do? Talk about romance and pheromones and excitement.
He’d forgotten just how unreasonable she was. Maybe three years would be better, after all.
She stood up and smoothed down her skirt. The gesture was artless, feminine and absolutely enchanting. How could that be? There wasn’t a single thing reasonable about such a reaction.
“Can I get you more wine?”
“No. We should leave now if we’re going to make our reservation on time. I hope you like steak.”
“I love it.” She smiled. “And I’m starving.”
So was he. For Sandi Wentworth.
Matt felt vindicated. See. If he’d rushed things and let his passion get the upper hand he might not have learned whether she liked beef. It was a small thing, but success often depended on knowing the small details.
Sandi ordered a sixteen-ounce rib eye and ate the whole thing. Then she chose Mississippi black-bottom pie for dessert.
Matt watched her, amused, and she said, “Who can resist chocolate?”
“I’ll have to keep that in mind.”
Funny how she could hang her hope on such a small remark. Chocolate plus Matt equals fun under the covers, which leads to love and marriage.
She’d been doing that kind of wishful thinking all evening, ever since he’d walked in the door. Oh, he was delicious and she had a hard time keeping her hands off him.
But she must. She’d made up her mind not to do anything that would create an artificial closeness that wouldn’t last. She knew Matt too well. If she seduced him tonight, he’d crawl into his cave, mull it over and decide he’d made some huge mistake that required an apology or even a complete withdrawal from her life.
And she certainly couldn’t tell him about her pregnancy. She didn’t want nobility from Matt. She wanted love. All or nothing at all, that was the way it had to be.
It only seemed fair, though, to tell him about her Chinese daughter. At least that way she’d know if he liked children. She’d tell him over chocolate.
When the waitress brought her pie, Sandi fortified herself with a bite or two then put down her fork and told him, “I’m going
to adopt a little Chinese girl.”
“You’re what?”
Oh, dear. That was certainly not the reaction she’d wanted.
“I applied some time ago. I’ve been approved and I’ll be leaving for China in the next couple of months to pick her up.”
When he finally said, “Congratulations,” she couldn’t read between the lines at all. And no wonder. After all, he was a successful trial lawyer, trained to hide behind a mask of professionalism.
“Don’t you like children?”
“We’ve had this conversation before.”
She flushed, remembering how she’d awakened in his bed after a night of making love. She vividly remembered that. But what had they said about babies? She vaguely recalled prattling on about wanting a big family. Didn’t she always? But what had he said?
She took a calming bit of chocolate before saying, “Refresh my memory.”
“The conversation about children is premature, that’s what I said.”
“Well, of course, it’s not so premature now, considering. Is it?”
“No, it isn’t. I’m very happy for you, Sandi, and I hope I can get to know your little girl as well as you.”
Now what? She’d asked for the moon again and received a pat on the head. Lord, was she ever going to quit wishing for things she couldn’t have.
She picked up her fork and discovered there was no more pie. She’d have to muddle through without chocolate, that was all.
“Sandi?”
“Yes?” She gave him a bright, brave smile.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she told him, then suddenly she wasn’t. She felt turned inside out. “Excuse me.”
In the bathroom she grabbed a wad of paper towels, turned on the tap, held them under the water then swabbed her pale face with one hand while she clung to the sink with the other. God, she was going to faint. Wouldn’t that be awful?
Somebody would find her in here passed out and then somebody would tell Matt and he’d ask her why and she’d probably tell the truth. Maybe that’s what she ought to do anyhow. Tell him she was carrying his baby and simply put an end to all this suspense.
But, oh, she didn’t want him to feel financially responsible for her unforeseen developments. Wasn’t that what he’d once said? She didn’t need financial help. She needed love.
Taking a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and marched back to the table.
“Will you please take me home?” she said.
“Certainly. Are you okay?”
“I’m great.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely.”
The silence between them grew enormous, and he turned on the radio, some dreadful rap that gave her a headache.
“Do you like that kind of music?” she said.
“What kind?”
“Rap.”
“Can’t stand it.” He switched stations and found one playing Pachelbel’s Canon. “Is that better?”
“Much.”
For a while there were no sounds in the car except the soothing magic of Pachelbel and the swish of tires on pavement.
“What are you going to name your little girl?”
“I don’t know. Why?”
“I was just wondering.”
Sandi wadded her hands in her lap to keep from reaching over and touching him. She wasn’t about to build a whole new fantasy on something that small.
But when Matt parked the car and walked her to the door then stood there looking expectant and hopeful and not at all sure of himself, Sandi stood on tiptoe and kissed him lightly on the lips.
“Good night, Matt. Thanks for dinner.”
“Good night, Sandi.”
She didn’t invite him in. She didn’t have the kind of moral courage it took to offer him a cup of coffee then send him on his way. Oh, no. In spite of his cool logic and safe plans, she’d have offered him everything.
Inside she leaned against the door and whispered, “Goodbye, Matt, my love.”
Matt stood on Sandi’s stoop like a man shell-shocked. That she’d escaped being ravaged on her doorstep was a testament to his willpower.
Feeling like a man made of iron, he got in his car and sat there with the engine idling.
In spite of the fact that she loved the puppies and had enjoyed dinner, he had the uneasy feeling that something was amiss. He couldn’t say that the evening hadn’t gone well. But there was an undercurrent that had tugged at him all night.
He was in no condition to solve the problem now. Funny, how Sandi always threw him off kilter.
He would sleep on it, that’s what. Give her time to mull over his proposition, then call her next week and suggest the ballet.
The International Ballet competition was going on in Jackson. Next Friday they were performing A Midsummer Night’s Dream, which seemed to Matt altogether appropriate for his recent state of mind. That piece was romantic, too.
His plan was moving along right on schedule.
Chapter Thirteen
“I really like this bed,” C.J. said.
“No,” Sandi said. “I don’t think so.”
“What’s wrong with it? It’s mahogany, it has four posts, it’s in good condition.”
“It’s a perfectly lovely bed.”
“And?”
“It’s not quite right, that’s all.”
The bed in question was in Clyde’s Antiques on the outskirts of Starkville.
“That’s the fifteenth bed you’ve turned down. I don’t know where else to look.”
“We don’t have to buy a bed today.”
“You’re right.” C.J. laced her arm through Sandi’s and led her to the car. “You’re not even showing yet.”
“I’m not?”
“Don’t look so disappointed. You can start wearing that new maternity dress if you want to. I think you look cute in it.”
“I can’t wait.” Sandi climbed into C.J.’s car. “Let’s get ice cream before we go home.”
“Better yet, let’s have dinner, then ice cream. Clint will be working late tonight getting out the Sunday edition.”
“Don’t you usually take his Saturday-night dinner to the paper?”
Blushing, C.J. laughed. “I’ll call and tell him I’m keeping supper hot at home.”
While C.J. called her husband, Sandi pressed both hands over her abdomen. She was lucky and blessed. Then why was she also blue?
“Sandi?” C.J. had come back from making her call. She placed a hand over Sandi’s. “I know why you didn’t like any of the beds. They weren’t at O’Banyon Manor.”
“Is that so awful?”
“No, honey. It’s not awful,” C.J. said as they made their way to the car and got in. “It’s perfectly normal.” C.J. turned the key in the ignition and drove off toward their favorite fast-food place for fried chicken without having to discuss it. “But I do think you might have given him one more chance. You love ballet. It would have been a nice outing for you.”
“No. It would have broken my heart.”
She didn’t have to explain. C.J. understood. How could she sit beside Matt in the midst of something so romantic, so beautiful, wanting everything when she knew she could have nothing?
No, it was best this way.
Didn’t clean breaks heal faster?
The auditorium was hushed, the ballet extravagant and the music beautiful. Matt sat on one side of his mother, with Ben on the other. Holding Lucy’s hand, Matt noticed.
Seeing those intertwined hands made his heart hurt. He didn’t want his heart to hurt. He didn’t want to remember how he’d called Sandi and said, “I have two tickets to the ballet in Jackson, will you come?”
Maybe if he’d softened her up first, things would have turned out differently. Maybe if he’d said, “I’ve been thinking about your little girl, and I think you’ll be a wonderful mother,” she might have said yes.
He might even have said, “I’ve been thinking what it would
feel like to be her father,” but that was rushing things. Getting the cart before the horse, as Bob was always saying, in spite of the fact that he knew it was a tired old cliché.
“Matt?”
Lucy had that motherly look in her eyes. “The ballet’s over.”
“I was just waiting for the crowd to clear out. No sense stepping on feet when you can walk down a perfectly clear aisle unhampered.”
“I see.”
Lucy rubbed Ben’s leg while she talked. Matt could hardly bear to watch. Not that he disapproved. On the contrary, he couldn’t have been more pleased that his mother was finally getting the chance at the happiness she deserved.
But seeing them touch made him feel lonesome. Desperately lonesome.
Matt didn’t want to be desperate about anything or anyone. He was a man in charge, a man in control. He’d spent years stamping out messy emotions. Then why was this one so hard to ignore?
“Sandi would have loved this ballet,” Lucy said.
“Yes. I think she would.”
“You should have invited her.”
“Hmm” was all he said. In the face of Lucy’s glowing romantic success, he wasn’t about to admit his own failure.
Besides, he hadn’t failed. He’d merely had a setback, that was all. He’d think of a brilliant comeback ploy.
Ben leaned around Lucy and said, “I guess this is as good a time as any to talk. I’ve been bursting ever since Lucy and I got here.”
“Go ahead,” Matt said.
“I love your mother, always have and always will, and since you’re the oldest, I’m asking you for her hand in marriage.”
“Nothing would make me happier,” Matt told him, which was an outright lie. Having Sandi would make him happier. Having her by his side in the auditorium, her sweet scent wafting over him, her soft hand on his knee.
“Matt?” His mother was giving him that look again.
Good grief, he was going to make a fool of himself in front of his future stepfather if he didn’t regain some semblance of control.
“When is the wedding?” he asked.
“In another year or so,” Lucy said, laughing. “We’re going to live in sin a while first.”
