Wandering Heart

by Hestand, Rita

  "Greg," she nearly choked on her drink. "I don't want you to think . . ." Didn't she? Then why did she wear this impossible dress? What else could he think?

  "I don't, darling." He took her hand and caressed it, folding it inside his. "I love you too much to think anything bad about you. Stop worrying. It's only natural to want each other. And everything has been arranged. We'll have the entire night to get to know one another better."

  "The entire night?" Suddenly something new gripped her, a fear she couldn't explain.

  "I told you about it. I used a phony name, so there will be absolutely no publicity. No—interruptions."

  "That's nice." Or was it? Had those infuriating interruptions always been at the right time? Saved her from making a fool of herself and Greg.

  An hour later, she was stuffed with Live Maine Lobster and aged wine. The wine had already begun to take effect. She uncluttered her mind from her worries. What did she care? She was with the man she wanted. Wasn't she? Of course she was. Then why did certain, soft voiced man keep flitting through her head? Why did those blue, all seeing eyes stare at her from every corner? And why did every thought of Cooper Johnson warm her, and Greg didn't?

  The long ride to the hotel was spent wrapped in Greg's arms. She wanted to celebrate. This was the first evening she had Greg all to herself and it was heaven. Wasn't it? His eyes were on her. His mind was on her. Wasn't this what she wanted all along? She was going to be a Congressman's wife, and she and Josh would want for nothing—would they?

  No interruptions.

  So why did she freeze when he opened the door to their bedroom suite? Why did it bother her that he put the 'do not disturb' sign on the doorknob before he carried her in? Why couldn't she appreciate the luxury he was bathing her in at the moment? Or had he given her time to?

  He carried her straight to the bed, laying her in the middle, nudging her down with sweet promising kisses. She felt herself sinking into a soft, silky, peach-colored mass.

  His kisses were full of hot passion but she didn't respond automatically. She had turned to wood. This wasn't going well. She could feel cold feet coming.

  "That dress has been driving me crazy all night," Greg murmured in her ear as he did everything to rid himself of the silk between them.

  She giggled nervously, the wine going to her head once more.

  His big hands were everywhere, and she blocked every move he made. He was going too fast. It was obvious he wanted sex, but was love included? How long had it been since he told her he loved her? And why hadn't love been mentioned by now? Why did he have to act like it was sex he wanted, and not a loving woman by his side?

  Her mind flitted back to the day they met. She was at the hardware store buying some necessary equipment for the farm. He had been talking to the store manager about putting up signs and noticed her. Immediately, he struck up a conversation, and before the week was out he asked her for a date. Since then they had dated for six months.

  That seemed ages ago.

  She had little time to assimilate the decor. But her eyes popped open and she couldn't help but notice the mirrored closet. The bed was soft and silky, and nearly the color of flesh. The lighting seemed dim, like the last flickers of a sunset. Sunsets? Oh God, Coop. She felt the soft silk spread move against her as she squirmed in Greg's arms. If only this were Coop. Dear God, where had that thought come from? Why had it come now?

  She went instantly rigid.

  "Greg," she said pushing him away gently, "I think I need another drink."

  She needed another drink badly. Her courage was quickly failing her. And why not? She hadn't been intimate with a man in over ten years. Overdue yes, but she felt ridiculously clumsy.

  As she waited for another drink, Cooper's face flashed before her. Like some kind of warning. She tried to ignore it. Tried to force him from her mind. But he was there to stay.

  Are you going out, or in for the evening, he had asked. Why couldn't she just relax and enjoy this? A man, a very prominent man, with good looks, and a big future wanted her. She was going to marry him, for goodness sake.

  But it was the way Cooper had looked at her this evening that had stayed in her mind. That, and the warm feeling she had gotten from his look. The gentle way he had removed her lipstick.

  "You know this isn't a bad idea," Greg was saying as he brought their drinks from the bar that had been set up for them. "I mean, it's obviously been a long time since you've been to bed with a man, and I want you to feel completely comfortable with it. You just relax, darling. I want you to enjoy every minute of this. We have all night. There's no rush."

  She had to get Cooper off her mind. This was the man she loved.

  Then it hit her, like a cold breeze splashing her in the face, like a brick falling on her head, like a storm raging with the truth. The reason she couldn't get her mind off Cooper was that she was in love with him. Dear God, when had it happened? How could it happen? There was no future with Cooper. Was there?

  Straightening her clothes, she stood up and moved toward the balcony. It was the wine, it had to be. She opened the door and gazed down at the pool. It was very late, and very quiet.

  Any other girl would be thrilled to be here right now. She couldn't help but remember those teenagers in the parking lot of the mall, admiring Greg. How romantic could things get? She had the penthouse suite, a gorgeous setting, and yet she didn't feel anything except shame. She let the night air cool her face. Sober her.

  Perhaps her expectations were too high.

  Cooper would make a fine father, a great husband, but what kind of life would they have? He was a man with no future. Or was their future at the farm? He certainly knew how to take care of the farm. She hadn't had any problems since he arrived.

  Perhaps she let that dream take her away.

  What did she want, music? And yet, there was. Greg switched on the soft sounds of Barry Manilow, muted the lights even more, and held her drink for her as she sipped.

  Poor Greg. For the first time, he was really trying to show her how much he cared, and now it was too late.

  Their eyes met as she sipped the drink and felt the warm tingle go all the way down. But it wasn't Greg making her tingle, it was the drink. That was the problem.

  She giggled when his hands rested gently on her bare shoulders, his lips following. He was growing impatient. She could feel the tension in him. A tension she didn't have.

  When he got to the curve of her neck she shivered. Not because it pleased, but because it tickled. His lips smiled against the warmth of her skin. He was pleased with himself.

  Wanting to please him, she turned more fully into his arms. Perhaps if she tried a little harder, things would come right.

  His hot kisses smothered all her thoughts for the moment, blanking her mind. She had to give this one last try, to be sure.

  But a soft knock at the door brought her back to reality with a rush. Why did something or someone always interrupt them? Was it fate? It was room service with another bottle of chilled champagne.

  "That'll be all, thank you." Greg smiled and handed the waiter a large tip.

  She breathed in deeply.

  A sudden stab of sadness swelled within her. This was not what she wanted, from Greg or any other man. She didn't want a romp in bed with him, just because he'd arranged it. She wanted his heart and mind as well. Not just a night in bed.

  Greg came innocently back to her side. He offered her more champagne and she took it. It didn't help. She felt awful. And where would she get the courage to tell him?

  "In a hurry, darling?" He smiled magnetically as he took the glass from her nimble fingers and set it on the patio table beside them. His lips burned against her skin as he insinuated himself closer.

  Funny, but his expensive after shave irritated her nose. Greg wore only the best of everything. His suits were from his own tailor. His cologne was shipped in from the east.

  Oh, why couldn't she love him? She needed to love him. She should
love him, but the truth was there…she didn't love him.

  Maxine's words haunted her too. "He'll dump you at the airport on his way to Washington."

  Unaware her dress was half unzipped, she gasped when he slid his hand inside to cup one breast. He groaned aloud, impatience in his voice. His fingers caressed her. Smooth fingers, not callused. But she ached for those callused fingers that would never be hers, not now, not after this.

  She felt like a piece of stone.

  "Oh, please," she begged raggedly.

  He mistook her begging for more, and tightened his hold of her.

  But she pulled gently out of his arms. "No, Greg, this isn't right. I mean, I…can't." Admit it, girl, you are chicken. No, she practically screamed.

  "Of course it's right," he murmured pulling her back against him so she could feel his arousal.

  "No, don't you see?" She pulled out of his embrace, her eyes full of unshed tears. "It's too contrived, too arranged. I can't go through with it. We're trying to act out a love scene that neither of us is sure about. We haven't shared enough of ourselves to do this, Greg. That much I know, and I feel."

  "What are you trying so hard not to say?" he demanded, his tone imposing.

  "I can't go through with this. I wanted to. I planned to, but I can't. Just like you couldn't give me a ring."

  "A ring?" Greg stood there, gazing at her in a stupor. As though the thought never occurred to him before.

  "A man wants a woman's body, to use for his own purposes. A woman wants stability, a ring."

  "I don't believe this. You are ruining our evening together over a stupid thing like a ring. That's just a formality. Why, I can buy you the biggest ring this side of the Rio Grande."

  "So, is going to bed a formality?"

  "Now look, Angela. I love you. I want to marry you. And you'll have dozens of rings. But we are two adults. We know what we want. At your age, I'd suspect you were ripe for this, why are you fighting it?"

  "You keep saying we love each other. You keep saying we'll be married. But a ring is a real promise. I've been put off for a long time. I've been patient. And now you're going to have to be."

  Greg was silent for a long moment, then he sighed and leaned against the sliding door. "No, this isn't over a ring, is it. Don't you think I know? I have felt this coming for a long time. It's been rather tense at the office. I've blamed it on your hiring that Johnson character. I blamed it on my career. I even blamed it on Josh. But the truth is, you don't love me, and perhaps I don't love you either. You're right, Angela, I should have given you a ring long ago, and announced our engagement publicly, that' where I went so wrong.. I should have treated you like the lady you are, and not like this. I was wrong. But I do care for you, admire you, even love you, in my own way. It's just not enough."

  "What?"

  "I said, you don't love me. And I don't love you enough for both of us."

  Hearing the words from his mouth made her want to deny it all. But it was the truth. And perhaps Greg had known it longer than she had. He was being so decent about the whole thing she felt guilty.

  She hung her head, in sadness, feeling the loss. "I tried to. When I first met you I thought I'd found Mr Right. Mr Perfect. You were everything I was brought up to believe is good and right. You were ambitious, clever, good looking, and smart. You had that 'lived in' look. Comfortable. So comfortable in fact I could picture you at home, at night, with a pipe in your mouth, your bedroom slippers by your favorite chair, a newspaper in your hand, a dog at your side. I saw you as a perfect father, perfect man."

  "And now?"

  "I wanted to make it come true."

  "But?"

  "But, you're right. I'm not in love with you, Greg. As much as I tried to be, I'm not. You are a wonderful man, brilliant, but . . ."

  "I think I knew it all along. In fact, I think I must have seen you the same way. Untouchable. So perfect."

  Her head lifted and she gazed at him. "What do you mean? I was never perfect. I came in late. Didn't take enough interest in your work. So many things are wrong now that I look at it."

  He smiled, stuck his hands in his pocket and moved to stand beside her. "You were Miss Prim and Proper. You were the perfect little lady image. Not brash like Maxine. Not overly noticeable. You wouldn't steel the limelight from me, but you'd always be there waiting for me when I came home. The 'little woman'. The more I pictured you this way, the more I wanted you."

  It had never dawned on her that Greg might have fantasies too.

  "Can we until be friends? I mean, after all this?"

  "Always."

  "You're not mad about tonight?"

  He managed a tight smile. "It's a darn waste, but no, I'm not mad. I guess in some ways, I should be grateful."

  "Will you take me to my car now?"

  He hung his head, lit a cigarette and nodded. "Sure. If you're sure that's what you want."

  She nodded sadly. "Yes, I'm afraid so."

  "You look gorgeous in that dress. Any man would want you."

  She smiled, and zipped herself up, then put her heels on. She grabbed her champagne glass and sipped the rest of it down slowly, holding it in the air as she finished.

  "You really have marvellous taste, Greg."

  "Even in women," he smiled and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

  As they were leaving they both turned once more and glanced over their shoulder at what might have been.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Fifties music played softly in the background as Angela drove home. A light rain pelted the windshield. It seemed as though the rain would never end. She felt sad, and yet suddenly free. And on top of that she felt like a real woman again. Strange how not having sex with a man could do such a thing.

  She wasn't going to worry about breaking up with Greg. It was over, and they would remain friends, thank goodness. And, thank God, she hadn't let it go too far before she realized what a mistake it was. She was awed at how easy it had been to let Greg down. For that she was grateful.

  As she pulled her pickup into the drive, she saw the lights were out and decided to tiptoe quietly into her bedroom and go to bed. She was drained. It had been an experience. One she didn't want to repeat for a long time.

  Once comfortably inside her own room, she shed her clothes, put her flannel gown on and switched on the radio to the same station she had been listening to. The music and soft sounds of rain lulled her to sleep.

  Then it happened again. The same old dream, the same shadow of a man, an intriguing man. There was the strange sensation that she knew this man, but he was a man with no face. Without a shadow of a doubt he was the man who loved her. It always began the same way - a stranger, in the shadows, coming through the darkness, swooping her into his arms, lying beside her, loving her, yet not touching her. This was her soul-mate. The one true love she had never found, even with Raif. With this man there was some sort of psychic, emotional connection that went beyond the realms of day-to-day life.

  "And that's total nonsense," she wailed as her eyes came open and reality flooded her once more. She switched off the radio with vehemence. Damn those soft songs.

  She was past the age of believing that some man, any man was going to walk into her life and carry her away. There were no dream lovers! Only dreams.

  She chalked it all up to her circumstance. A woman her age, who hadn't had an affair in ten years, had to have something. She had a dream lover.

  "Dear God," she cried aloud. Was this what old maids do to survive? Invent a man? Was this all there was to look forward to? And was hot chocolate going to be her only answer.

  "No, I won't feel sorry for myself," she whimpered aloud. She got out of bed and stretched.

  Was she slowly becoming old age material? Had she let life slip by her?

  How could she go to Cooper now and tell him she loved him? After tonight? He'd never believe her. Who could blame him? She shook the blues away and went to check on Josh. Life hadn't suddenly changed just beca
use she didn't go to bed with Greg she scolded herself all the way down the hall. And there was plenty of time to find a man, the right man, if there was such a thing.

  She went quietly to Josh's room. But when she opened the door and peeked in, he wasn't there. Josh wasn't home?

  She ran to the kitchen to check the clock on the wall. It was after two. Where could he be? She went to the living room door and stared down the road at Cooper's bungalow, but there was no light on.

  Josh knew she wouldn't permit him going off while she was gone. So where was he? And how could Cooper sleep knowing Josh wasn't home?

  Was Cooper at home in his bungalow or in her house in the guest room?

  She pattered across the living room floor to the other side of the house, and raised her fist to bang on the door just as it opened. Her fist slammed none-too-gently on Cooper's naked chest.

  Cooper stood in the doorway with nothing on but a pair of low-rise jeans. His feet were devoid of shoes, his hair tousled, and his eyes had a lazy sort of glitter to them. He couldn't have looked sexier if he'd tried.

  But that was not why she was here.

  His eyes traveled slowly over her as though he didn't quite believe what he was seeing.

  "Angel?" He called in a heavy voice. Just the way he always spoke her name made her heart trip faster.

  "I'm sorry; I didn't know you were in there."

  He looked incredulously at her. "You told me to sleep here."

  She wasn't making much sense.

  "Y…yes." Her gaze travelled down the long torso of his body, taking in the muscles and lean flesh of him with an interest she didn't want to contemplate. Her stomach curled into a knot, when she suddenly realized she was looking him over like a side of beef. Good grief, what was wrong with her? Was she losing her mind?

  "Where is my son?" she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest and tapping a foot.

  He put an arm over the doorjamb and leaned into her. A muscle flexed in his shoulders and jaw. His sheepish greeting had suddenly turned to a hardened frown as though he couldn't quite figure what was wrong with her.

  "He's not in bed, and at this hour he certainly should be."