by Diana Palmer
"You shouldn't have...!" she managed to say, flustered.
"I think I should." He tilted her eyes up to his quiet, wise ones. "You do understand what happened?"
She flushed and averted her eyes. "Well, yes..."
"It's nothing to be ashamed of. You're one in a million," he said, his voice deep and slow and tender. "Most men would kill for a woman as passionate as you."
"It's embarrassing!" she groaned.
"That you should reach fulfillment because I suckled your breast?" he asked, his voice explicit but somehow comforting. "Shelly, I feel ten feet tall. I've never felt so much a man."
She looked up, slowly. "You don't think I'm odd?"
"I think you're dynamite." He smoothed back her disheveled hair with hands that weren't quite steady even now, although he was less tormented. "I'm flattered that you want me that much."
She lowered her eyes to his chest. "But this is all there is."
"That's right." He held her close for a long time, savoring the scent and feel of her in his arms. "Shelly?"
"Yes?"
He kissed her hair. "We'll always have Paris."
Despite her sorrow, she smiled.
They went home the next day. Shelly hadn't seen Faulkner again, and she hadn't tried to. She'd said her goodbyes to Ben when they'd returned to her motel room, a little tearfully. Ben had wanted to keep in touch, but Shelly didn't dare do that. She couldn't risk having them find out the truth about her background, about her parents. Washington was a big city, and despite her father's wealth and influence, he was one of many wealthy investment bankers in the city. She didn't remember her father ever mentioning Faulkner Scott, so it was unlikely that they knew each other. For the sake of her sanity, she had to keep it that way. After all, Faulkner had admitted that the main problem was his inability to make a commitment. He wanted an affair and she wanted forever. It wasn't easy to compromise on two such wide viewpoints.
She was going to miss him. And Ben. She'd lived her whole life without knowing either one of the Scotts, but she knew she'd live the rest of it without forgetting them.
Nan had noticed her friend's pallor and unusual quietness, but she hadn't remarked on it.
They boarded the plane and with adjoining seats, had time to talk, away from the rest of the students they traveled with.
"I'm sorry it didn't work out for you," Nan told her. "Really sorry. He was a dish, and the boy was special."
"Thanks. I'm sorry, too." She leaned back, closing her eyes. "Nan, if only I were liberated."
"You are."
"You know what I mean."
"Liberated as in sharing one night of explosive passion and spending the rest of your life living on it?"
Shelly glared at her. "Stop confusing me."
"You don't live the rest of your life on one night, no matter how explosive it is," Nan said firmly. "And in that one night, you could catch a disease that would kill you or make you untouchable. You could sacrifice all your principles and have nothing left except the certainty that the man you worshiped felt justified to treat you like a fast-food plate."
"A fast-food plate?"
"Something you use to feed yourself from and then throw away."
"Nan!"
"Well, it's true," the black girl said firmly. "You won't catch me risking my life or my health for the sake of a romantic one-night stand. Not me. I'm saving it all up for one lucky man who's going to thank God daily, on his knees, that I waited just for him." She leaned close. "That's romantic."
Shelly grimaced. "You have this nasty way of making me feel like pond scum."
Nan frowned. "Speaking of pond scum, where's Pete?"
"He got on the plane just behind you," Shelly said, chuckling. "Shame on you for calling him that."
"But he is pond scum," the other woman said seriously. "He seduced one of the freshman girls and then wouldn't have a thing to do with her the next day."
"You're right. He is pond scum!" Shelly exclaimed.
"So are a lot of other men, whispering sweet nothings so that they can have their way."
"Not all of them," Shelly said miserably. "There are men who feel protective toward women with no sense of self-preservation."
"So that's why he looked like that last night," Nan mused dryly.
"How did he look?"
"Frustrated. Confused. Puzzled. Delighted," she added softly. "The way he looked at you when you didn't see him!" She sighed. "Oh, Shelly. If you'd had another week together, there would have been wedding bells."
"I'm afraid not. He doesn't want to get married." "What man does?"
Shelly closed her eyes. "Well, it doesn't matter, does it? Spring break is over and I'll never see him again."
"He knows that you go to Thorn College," Nan remarked. "And he lives in D.C., too."
"It won't matter." Shelly said it with conviction, but deep inside, she hoped she was wrong... The semester was finally over, and Shelly went home to sweat out her grades until the registrar notified her on what they were. She felt pretty confident about her subjects, but she always worried.
"Darling, must you wear that dress?" her mother muttered.
"It's perfectly respectable..."
"It's so old-fashioned, Shelly," Mrs. Astor replied, glaring at the deep blue velvet gown that covered Shelly from neck to toes, except where it dipped seductively in the back.
Tonia Astor wore a black silk dress that flattered her still-youthful body, helping the contrast between her naturally black hair and its streak of pure silver. She looked elegant and chic, which she was. Shelly despaired of ever having her mother's unshakable poise at society gatherings.
The Astors were giving a gala party tonight in honor of a new president at one of the banks where Bart Astor was a member of the board of directors. Shelly had been persuaded into helping her mother hostess. She had no excuse, because she wasn't going to attend summer semester at the school.
"You've just been on holiday," her mother reminded her. "This is just a small get-together, darling. You'll enjoy yourself. It's time you stopped this silly college idea and got married. Charles is a delightful man, very settled and influential."
"Charles is a bore. He likes to quote stock averages to me."
"He's settled," her mother repeated.
"He should be, he lives with his mother."
"Shelly, really! Oh, there's Ted."
Her mother moved away, dragging Shelly with her across the crowded room where a full orchestra was playing. With her upswept salon coiffure and discreet but expensive sapphire choker and matching bracelet, Shelly's subdued elegance matched the tone of the party.
"Ted Dumaris," Tonia exclaimed, taking both his hands in hers. "So nice to see you again!" she added, totally unaware of Shelly's shocked expression and sudden panic as a tall, dark-haired man with a familiar thin brunette in tow made their way through the crowd to Antonia Astor and Shelly. "And is this the daughter you were telling me about?" she exclaimed with enthusiasm.
"Yes, this is my Marie and her...our...friend, Faulkner Scott. This is Antonia Astor."
Faulkner's expression was faintly curious. He hadn't seen Shelly, standing just to the side and behind her mother. He was obviously connecting the name.
"How lovely of you to have invited us," Marie Shelly closed her eyes. "Well, it doesn't matter, does it? Spring break is over and I'll never see him again."
"He knows that you go to Thorn College," Nan remarked. "And he lives in D.C., too."
"It won't matter." Shelly said it with conviction, but deep inside, she hoped she was wrong...
The semester was finally over, and Shelly went home to sweat out her grades until the registrar notified her on what they were. She felt pretty confident about her subjects, but she always worried.
"Darling, must you wear that dress?" her mother muttered.
"It's perfectly respectable..."
"It's so old-fashioned, Shelly," Mrs. Astor replied, glaring at the deep blue velvet gown that cov
ered Shelly from neck to toes, except where it dipped seductively in the back.
Tonia Astor wore a black silk dress that flattered her still-youthful body, helping the contrast between her naturally black hair and its streak of pure silver. She looked elegant and chic, which she was. Shelly despaired of ever having her mother's unshakable poise at society gatherings.
The Astors were giving a gala party tonight in honor of a new president at one of the banks where Bart Astor was a member of the board of directors. Shelly had been persuaded into helping her mother hostess. She had no excuse, because she wasn't going to attend summer semester at the school.
"You've just been on holiday," her mother reminded her. "This is just a small get-together, darling. You'll enjoy yourself. It's time you stopped this silly college idea and got married. Charles is a delightful man, very settled and influential."
"Charles is a bore. He likes to quote stock averages to me."
"He's settled," her mother repeated.
"He should be, he lives with his mother."
"Shelly, really! Oh, there's Ted."
Her mother moved away, dragging Shelly with her across the crowded room where a full orchestra was playing. With her upswept salon coiffure and discreet but expensive sapphire choker and matching bracelet, Shelly's subdued elegance matched the tone of the party.
"Ted Dumaris," Tonia exclaimed, taking both his hands in hers. "So nice to see you again!" she added, totally unaware of Shelly's shocked expression and sudden panic as a tall, dark-haired man with a familiar thin brunette in tow made their way through the crowd to Antonia Astor and Shelly. "And is this the daughter you were telling me about?" she exclaimed with enthusiasm.
"Yes, this is my Marie and her...our...friend, Faulkner Scott. This is Antonia Astor."
Faulkner's expression was faintly curious. He hadn't seen Shelly, standing just to the side and behind her mother. He was obviously connecting the name.
"How lovely of you to have invited us," Marie was gushing to Antonia. "I adore your home. So impressive!"
Shelly wasn't impressed. Marie's fawning made her nauseous. And seeing Faulkner again wasn't helping.
"Where's Shelly? Oh, there you are, darling, do come and be introduced. She's a college freshman, you know, at twenty-four! We were absolutely horrified...!"
Her mother rambled on, but Shelly wasn't listening to the explanations or introductions. She was lost in Faulkner's glittering silver eyes. He stared at her with shock and dawning realization, barely aware of her mother or his surroundings.
"Twenty-four?" he asked gruffly.
"Yes, isn't she ancient to be starting college?" Tonia laughed. "But she has a high grade point average and we're very proud. What do you do, Ms. Dumaris?" she asked Marie.
"When she isn't looking down her nose at other people, I expect she goes to parties, don't you, Ms. Dumaris?" Shelly, diverted, fixed her cold blue gaze on the shaken older woman. "Ms. Dumaris mentioned just recently that she could use her influence to have me booted out of college."
"Shelly," Tonia began uncertainly, because she'd never seen her daughter lose her temper.
Mane swallowed, blushing and back-stepping. "I never meant it that way!" She laughed nervously, chattering. "I'm sure you must have misunderstood me!"
"I didn't misunderstand a single word, unfortunately for you."
She turned her back on Marie and her eyes found Charles. She motioned to him, ignoring Faulkner and Marie's almost pitiable attempts to smooth over her vicious attitude in Daytona Beach with Shelly's mother.
Shelly caught tall blond Charles by the hand and turned to face the others. Her face was pale but she was as composed as she'd ever been.
"I'd like you all to meet Charles Barington," she said with a forced, dazzling smile. "He's my fiancé!"
♥ Scanned by Coral ♥
Chapter Six
"I can't believe you're finally willing to marry me," Charles blurted out when they were out of earshot of the others. "Shelly, what a surprise!"
"I hope you aren't going to be upset, Charles, but I really didn't mean it," she said gently. "I'm sorry, but I was in a very tight spot. I'll explain later."
He looked torn between disappointment and relief. His eyes glanced toward a young woman named Betsy, for whom he was slowly developing deep feelings. "What will everyone say?" he asked.
"Nothing at all," she assured him. "And I'll simply say that I wasn't quite enough for you, if anyone asks why we got unengaged."
"That's very nice of you," he said, surprised.
"Not really, and I'm sorry I had to involve you. But we've been friends for a long time, and I hoped you wouldn't mind."
"Of course I don't."
"I'm glad." She smiled, watching him blush. He was a sweet man, in his way, but he had no imagination and no stomach for a fight. Shelly knew instinctively that she'd spend her life walking on him if they got married. And that wouldn't suit either of them, especially Charles. She noticed a familiar younger woman watching him with covetous eyes and an idea was born. "Do go and have something to drink, Charles, and we'll talk later. Oh, there's Betsy, remember her? She's looking very lonely. Wouldn't it be nice if you asked her to dance?"
"Yes, of course," he said eagerly.
"Why don't you, then? She's a dear girl."
Charles nodded. He'd never understand Shelly. But Betsy was sweet, and she seemed to like him very much. She only danced with him at parties. He smiled as he approached her and she blushed. He wondered if he hadn't been turning his interest in the wrong direction all along as he took a radiant Betsy into his arms on the dance floor.
Shelly, meanwhile, went to the drinks table and poured herself a large brandy. She made a face as she sipped it.
A big, lean hand shot past her, took the glass and put it down on the table. "You can't hold your liquor. Leave it alone."
She whirled, her eyes angry. "Don't tell me what to do. I don't like it."
His eyebrows arched. "My, how you've changed. A young, virginal, college freshman with no money— isn't that how the story went?"
"All lies," she skid, smiling up at him. "I had fun. Didn't you?"
"Not all lies," he replied, reading fear through the bravado. Her eyelids fell quickly. "I may not be able to tell a poor student from a socialite, but I damned sure know a virgin when I make love to one."
"We didn't," she said sharply.
"Make love? No, we didn't," he replied quietly. "You're twenty-four and wealthy. There are no barriers, isn't that what you expect me to say?"
She lifted her eyes. "I still believe in forever after, and you don't want to get married." He looked stunned. She laughed coldly. "I don't believe in fairy tales. You told me yourself that commitment was the real obstacle, not my background. Or, rather, what you thought was my background." She smiled cynically. "I'm much sought after, you know. Men love my father's money."
"So that's why."
"Why what?"
"Why you went back to school without letting anyone know who you were."
"It beats being on the appetizer list."
He searched her flushed face. "Your fiancé is dancing with another woman. Much too close," he added with a glance at Charles and Betsy. "Don't you mind?"
"I would if I planned to marry him. He thinks I do. So does my father, who arranged it. My father wants me to be Mrs. Charles Barington. With all due respect," she added softly, "I hardly think a banker would be high on his list of son-in-law prospects. Unless, of course, you owned all the assets in your bank."
He glared down at her. "You know nothing about me, financially or otherwise. And if I wanted to marry you, the only opinion I'd give a damn about would be yours."
"My father has taken down bigger men than you. I fought him to get to go to college." She glanced towards Charles with sad resignation. "I don't feel like fighting him anymore. You were right. There's no such thing as love and happily ever after. I've been dreaming."
He caught her arm. It hurt to fi
nd her like this, so cynical and self-effacing and sad. He'd been lonely, but she looked as if the weeks they'd been apart had hurt her even more.
"Shelly," he said softly.
She pushed his hand away and smiled that social smile that never reached her eyes. "So nice that you could come tonight, Mr. Scott," she said. "If you'll excuse me, I have to circulate."
She took Charles away from Betsy with a murmured apology. "Do you mind being engaged to me for the rest of the evening? I'll square it with Betsy." "No, of—of course not," he faltered. She laid her cheek on his chest and closed her eyes. "Then dance, Charles. Just dance."
The next day, she went to Nassau and checked into a hotel and casino complex overlooking Cable Beach, with its blistering white sand and incredibly clear turquoise waters. She'd told Betsy about the masquerade before she left and hoped that Charles would have enough sense to notice that the young woman was crazy about him.
Shelly herself had no interest in Charles or marriage. Seeing Faulkner again had destroyed her serenity. Now she had to find it again, and she didn't know how she was going to manage. What she'd felt for him hadn't vanished. It had grown stronger.
The yellow bikini was all too brief, but everyone else was wearing things just as skimpy. She closed her eyes with a sigh and let the sun warm her back.
The sudden sprinkle of icy water on her spine made her lift up. "Hey!" she said angrily.
A pair of gray eyes in a young face met hers— laughing eyes. "Hi, Mom!" Ben said chuckling. His hair, and the rest of him, were wet. He was wearing bathing trunks and carrying a towel. "Fancy meeting you here!"
"Oh, God," she groaned, laying her head on her forearms.
"Not quite," came a deep, gravelly voice from overhead.
She didn't look up. She didn't have to. She knew who it was. "What are you doing here?"
"Taking a vacation. Marie and her father have flown to England on business and I had some time off due. Ben's just out of school. We like the Bahamas, don't we, son?"
"There are seven hundred islands down here in the Bahamas chain," she mentioned. "Couldn't you like another one?"
"This is great," he said. "There's even a casino. Do you gamble?"
