Daddy's Little Matchmaker

by Roz Denny Fox

  He lost his footing and his arms flailed, but she managed to telegraph her pleasure at finding him on her doorstep. Alan couldn’t check his backward momentum, and Laurel followed. His boot heel struck the bottom step. He went down on his back, with Laurel on top of him.

  His arms circled her for support and neither of them noticed how the daisies rained down over them.

  Relief at seeing her safe and sound gave way to other feelings. Alan was ready and willing to make love to her right there in the moonlight on the worn boards of her porch.

  She had other ideas. She somehow managed to tie her horse and unlock the front door still clutching his shirt. She began unfastening buttons, the ripping some off.

  It’d been so long…the shudders coursing through her took over.

  Alan, his nerves already stretched to the limit from worry, needed no other invitation. Though he probably lacked finesse, he was able to find Laurel’s couch in the dark. And he got them both naked in less time than it took to shut the dog out. Alan didn’t want a cold nose interrupting what he’d come prepared to do—make love to Laurel Ashline until neither he nor she could stand.

  He wished he’d thought to switch on a lamp so he could see every beautiful inch of her. He had to settle for communicating his urgency with his lips and hot, skimming hands.

  Both athletic and agile, Laurel matched his hunger. She refused to pay heed to her saddle-weary body tonight. “This is a perfect end to a wonderful day,” she murmured as he turned her on her back and took a second to sheath himself.

  “I can’t think beyond now. Don’t talk. If you do, I’m going to explode.”

  Her heart raced. She didn’t need words. But she couldn’t help worrying that the coupling would be awkward, or that she’d forgotten how. Silly girl! The phrase pounded in her head, along with the rising heat in her blood as Alan entered her smoothly and slickly. All words, all thought—everything flew straight out of her head.

  If it’d ever been Alan’s intent to start out slow and easy, that went by the wayside as soon as Laurel’s welcoming warmth closed around him. She made love with the same expertise she’d used to operate her looms. As heat, light and joy all coalesced in a climax that Alan was sure rocked the very foundations of the cottage, he knew he’d never again watch Laurel weave without remembering this night. Without remembering it and wanting to repeat it.

  They lay entwined in the darkness, both content to let their heated bodies cool naturally. Alan couldn’t get enough of touching her soft skin. She seemed to want the connection, too, as her fingers made forays up and down his right side. Every so often she murmured, “I ought to get up,” but then she’d brush her lips across his chest.

  “I should move, too,” he finally said halfheartedly. “I’m probably squashing you.”

  She stroked his nipple with her fingertips, and smiled against his bare skin when she felt him stirring again. “I notice your body says something entirely different, and I’m oh, so tempted,” she murmured, moving a bit to ease out from under him. “Do you realize I left Coal Fire tied out front? He’s fully saddled. And Dog’s trying to scratch down the door. I think he’s starved.”

  Alan swung his legs around, sat up and reached for his jeans. “Oh, damn. Maybe he won’t be hungry. I set down a picnic basket when you rode in, and I can’t remember where. But maybe he doesn’t like cold lasagna. Louemma ate, then fell asleep watching 102 Dalmatians. I swiped the leftovers and—well, you know the rest.”

  Laurel rose to her knees and snagged her panties off the lampshade. She scooped her bra off the picture frame that hung behind the couch. “Daisies and a meal. I’m so sorry, Alan, I didn’t mean to spoil your—”

  “Seduction?” he asked in a low growl, pausing to kiss her belly button as she wriggled into white cotton panties. “I’d say that part happened just right. All the rest was window dressing.”

  “I didn’t expect you.” She braced a hand against his shoulder, holding his lips at bay so that she could button her blouse.

  “It was obvious you didn’t expect me. Here, let me help. You buttoned that all wrong.”

  Laurel let her hands fall to her sides. She stood before him in her half-buttoned blouse and her panties, and wondered if he had any idea how far she’d come in leaving herself open to his scrutiny. Before their divorce, things between her and Dennis had deteriorated to the point that she was locking him out of the bedroom. Half the time she slept fully clothed, so that if he broke through the door she could escape out the window and shinny down the tree that shaded their second-story apartment.

  “You look pensive.” Alan retrieved his shirt and handed Laurel her jeans. “I didn’t mean to come off sounding like a jealous jerk.”

  “I know. I could tell you were worried sick or we wouldn’t be here right now. I just…haven’t had to account to anyone for my whereabouts in a long time.”

  “And you don’t now.” He sat and dragged on his boots. “Would you like to see if there’s anything left of that picnic? I’ll go put Coal Fire up.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “I want to.” He stilled her protest, framing her face with his hands.

  Laurel circled his wrist with trembling fingers and felt the kick of his pulse under her thumb. “I rode out at dawn to go visit a mountain weaver. I did that partly because last night I began to think I might be making another huge mistake.”

  Alan’s hands slipped to her shoulders. Unconsciously, he traced her collarbone with his thumbs as he gazed into her eyes. “So, was tonight an experiment? A test? I guess I’m asking…is this goodbye?”

  Her face flushed with the passion that had ignited earlier. “It can be hello, if…you think everything, uh, went okay.” Although it was the last thing she wanted, her insecurity hung between them.

  Whooping, Alan caught her in his arms. “Don’t ever scare me like that again. It went, okay? No, it was wonderful. Damn wonderful.”

  She slapped at his shoulders and asked to be set down. He did so, but only after a last kiss.

  They separated reluctantly. Laurel searched her vocabulary for a more descriptive word than wonderful. Happy. Ecstatic. Content. What she really felt was that, at long last, the chaos of her life had faded. She felt as if nothing could go wrong again. And did she dare hope there might be another word linked to Alan Ridge—such as love?

  Chapter Eleven

  MAY SLID INTO JUNE without fanfare, then June became a sultry July. Louemma progressed slowly but steadily. Every lesson ended with her gaining fractionally greater use of her arms. She was walking a lot more and was less dependent on her wheelchair. Alan continued to hope for a full recovery.

  In between lesson days, if he managed to break away from his duties at Windridge, he slipped back to Laurel’s. They didn’t always end up in bed, just enough times to keep them both content….

  Sometimes they took moonlit walks in the woods, holding hands or whispering silly things with their heads together. On the days Alan couldn’t get away, Laurel spent her empty hours photographing colorful mushrooms native to the area. She framed a trio of her more exotic-looking prints and hung them in her kitchen. A craft store in town sold the others on consignment.

  “There’s just no accounting for the junk tourists will buy,” Alan teased her one night, being sure to punctuate his words with not-so-teasing kisses.

  While they laughed and joked, both were aware that they’d never discussed a future together. They’d made such a habit of sidestepping any mention of Windridge or the creek that Laurel was shocked one Sunday afternoon when Alan rolled over in bed, propped himself on his elbow, and blurted, “It’s been more than a month since I gave you Dave Bentley’s report on Bell Hill’s water table, Laurel. What have you decided?”

  “A month? So long?” She covered her breasts with the sheet and slid up to lean against the natural pine headboard of a new king-size bed she’d bought once it became clear she and Alan would be sharing it often.

  “Hardy left
the report on my desk weeks ago and I brought it to you almost immediately. I should think you’ve had ample time to study it.”

  She shrugged. “I suppose. Why the rush?”

  He studied her from dark, fathomless eyes for quite some time before he rubbed his nose and finally offered a crooked grin. “Uh, the object behind requesting the study was so you could make an informed decision—and ultimately allow us to tap into the spring. I need a verdict soon if we’re going to meet our targeted expansion date.”

  Laurel drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them. “I think the person who wrote that report has a master’s degree in double-speak.”

  “That’s typical of engineers. It read fairly straight forwardly to me. The perk tests and water table tallies indicate the headwaters come from an infinite source.”

  “Does it? Or are they guessing? The pages are filled with words like ‘in our estimation’ or ‘so far as this surveyor is able to ascertain’ and ‘based on the most sophisticated equipment available today, we think…blah, blah.’ One engineer is guessing the underground spring will continue at its current rate ad infinitum. He can’t guarantee it will.”

  Alan stole a portion of the bedsheet and faced her. They both sat cross-legged. A muscle in his jaw flexed as he tapped his fingertips together. “I guess something like that’s impossible to guarantee, Laurel. The firm doing the study has to cover their butts. They can’t afford to be sued down the line should something unforeseen, like a ten-year drought, dry up the spring. But theirs is the most educated assessment available. They’re a reputable group.”

  “I’m sure.” She breathed out a sigh.

  “You can call the state and see if anyone’s ever logged a complaint against them. Would that go further toward relieving your mind?”

  “I don’t know. Frankly, I’d hoped you’d dropped the idea of proceeding with that scheme.”

  “It’s not a scheme, Laurel. Why would you call it that? My company’s plans have been hanging fire, waiting for your okay. Hardy Duff has a construction crew on a retainer that’s about to run out.”

  She picked at her fingernail polish. “I see. I didn’t know that. So, how much longer do I have before I absolutely must decide?”

  “Hardy phones every night, and a few members of our board have been on his case. Your indecision’s causing a domino effect. It’s the board’s job to keep company growth on track, and they get edgy about retainer fees and building loans left in limbo. In essence, we’re paying Dave’s crew to do nothing.”

  “That doesn’t tell me how long I have.”

  “A week. Maybe I can buy ten days. The sooner, the better. That’s assuming you’re going to say yes. You are, aren’t you, Laurel?”

  “Don’t pressure me, Alan. You know I don’t respond well to pressure tactics.”

  “Okay. Jeez!” He held up his hands. Then he wrung out another smile and reached for her, but she deftly avoided him. She yanked away the sheet as she jumped off the bed.

  Feeling exposed, he grabbed his pants. He’d started for the bathroom to shower, as was his habit, when the phone beside the bed rang.

  Since Laurel was closer to the nightstand where it sat, she checked the caller ID readout. A look of dismay crossed her face.

  “What is it? Who?” Alan asked, hesitating even though he stood naked, half in, half out of the bathroom.

  “Dennis, I think. At least it’s a Vermont area code. I don’t recognize the number as one he’s used in the past. To be truthful, it’s been weeks since he called.”

  “I know. I’d hoped we’d seen the end of him,” Alan said, raising his voice to be heard over the third insistent ring. “Don’t answer. He’ll assume you’re not home.”

  As if to show Alan she didn’t like him making decisions for her, Laurel jerked up the receiver in the middle of the fifth ring. “Hello. Ah, yes, Dennis. I did suspect it was you. Yes, I have an ID service, but this time I only got a number. I didn’t recognize it. What? I didn’t answer earlier because I was busy.” Color streaked her cheeks as she wound the cord around a finger and cast guilty glances at Alan. “Actually,” she said with a toss of her head, “I have a visitor. Why are you calling?”

  Alan had noted it was customary for Laurel to pace in circles whenever she spoke with her ex. Today she fell back on the bed. Before she’d interrupted his tirade with her canned speech, but today she appeared to listen raptly.

  Unsure as to whether to stay or go and shower, yet feeling foolish for waiting there naked, Alan stalked into the bathroom. He turned the faucet on full bore and as cold as the water would go. Which was quite chilly, considering that Laurel’s water came from a deep well. But even the sharp, icy sting against his skin didn’t keep him from wondering about what was being said in the next room.

  He soon found out. He walked out carrying his socks and boots, to find Laurel fully dressed.

  “You will not believe what I have to tell you,” she said. “The reason Dennis has been so silent is he’s checked himself into a rehab facility. Some private program. Apparently a former boss pulled strings to get him placed. They admitted Dennis under a grant-funded program. I’m not quite sure how it works. He just said he had to remain sober for six weeks before they let him make phone calls to friends or family.”

  “Has he ever been sober for six weeks before?”

  “Yes. He got sober when it was required by various companies as a condition of employment. Never because he wanted to stop drinking. Maybe this time will be different. He sounded almost upbeat today.”

  “Right…and babies just show up under cabbage leaves.”

  “That’s not nice, Alan. He gave me some impressive success rates for this particular program.”

  “Hmm. Why the big change now? What’s his sudden catalyst?”

  Laurel’s words came out in a flood. “Me. I’m his catalyst. He said it’s because he hit bottom and suddenly realized he’d lost me because of his constant drinking. He said he’s doing this to win me back.” A red flush slowly crept up her face.

  Alan’s boot hit the floor. “What?” Dog, who’d been snoozing in the corner, bounded up and started barking.

  Laurel calmed the dog with a soft command.

  “You told Dennis to hop a westbound freight, I hope.”

  She laced her fingers and rubbed her palms together nervously. “What purpose would it serve to squash the one hope that might keep him in the program?”

  Alan said nothing for a minute. He finished tugging on his boots. As he got to his feet, he saw that Laurel hadn’t moved. Rounding the bed, he pulled her up against him. “Don’t you see? Dennis is still making his success or failure dependent on someone other than himself. On you, Laurel. Surely you’re not entertaining any wild notion of letting him back into your life.”

  She tensed briefly, then snuggled against Alan’s solid body, pressing her cheek to his chest. “No. Of course it’d never work.”

  Alan thought he heard both hesitation and doubt in her statement. And she’d considered her answer far longer than he would’ve liked—longer than he would’ve thought possible, given their growing relationship. A heaviness invaded his chest when Laurel changed their earlier plans of going somewhere for brunch. She left his arms, saying, “I forgot to mention that I got a commission for a new piece yesterday. A woman from Louisville. She and her husband own one of the big Thoroughbred horse farms. Anyway, she saw my work and ordered a monogrammed tablecloth and forty matching napkins. It’s a coup, not only in terms of money, but referrals as well.”

  “But—”

  “I have no choice, Alan. If I work all afternoon and evening uninterrupted, I can have the larger piece warped. I’ve goofed off. Now I have to find time to finish the job.”

  He felt her pulling in. Pulling back. Alan thought he probably ought to insist they take a minute to discuss where this left them. Where it left their relationship. But he wasn’t good at that—wasn’t good at spilling his guts, or hanging on to someone he c
ared for. He’d let his mother leave the company, and him, without a word. He’d let Emily close him out. Now it was happening again. Or…maybe it really was about Laurel’s new project, and he was making too much of it. But Louemma… She and Laurel had made plans.

  “You promised Louemma she could sleep over after tomorrow’s lesson,” he reminded her. “Do I need to let her down gently? She was so excited, she actually went to Brenna’s birthday party this afternoon. I was going to pick her up after our brunch.”

  Laurel had led the way down the hall to the front door. She stopped with her hand on the knob. “Darn, Alan. That completely slipped my mind. She and I were planning a girls’ night. We’ll do some cooking, stay up late and watch a movie or two. I’m so glad you mentioned it. No, I’d never disappoint her. Will you pick her up Tuesday morning or shall I deliver her to Windridge?”

  “I’ll pick her up. Rose arrives at eight-thirty to give us the results of the exams Louemma took in June. Shall we say eight? Unless, of course, Louemma can’t sleep and you need me to come get her during the night.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. I never did sleepovers as a kid,” she said wistfully. “I hope it goes well.”

  “So do I,” he said gruffly, unable to keep himself from kissing away her sad expression.

  “Mmm,” she murmured once he finally released her. “What was that for?”

  He almost said because I love you, but checked himself. It didn’t seem the right time. “Do I need a reason to kiss you?”

  “I guess not.” She smiled a genuine smile—her first of the morning. It went a long way toward loosening the knot in Alan’s stomach.

  “Well, since kissing you has a habit of getting out of hand, and since you have to work, I’d better scoot while the scoot-in’s good.”

  “Right. Duty calls. Frankly, your family’s probably feeling neglected. You should take Vestal to pick up Louemma from her birthday party, then go on an outing. The Shaker Village has special presentations all weekend. Hot as it’s been, I should think a trip downriver on the Dixie Belle paddle wheeler would be nice.”