FANTA C

by Sandra Brown

  "No problem," Thad said. "We were going anyway."

  He stepped up into the wagon and extended a hand down to Elizabeth. She had lost control of the situation and couldn't quite decide when or how it had happened. The people already sitting in the wagon and all those standing in line behind her were watching her expectantly. Her choices were to create an unpleasant scene, or to grasp Thad's hand and let him pull her up beside him. Taking the easy way out, she opted for the latter.

  Thad made certain that Matt and Megan were safely sitting down before finding Elizabeth and him a spot in the hay. She tucked her skirt around her legs, careful not to rub thighs with him.

  "Isn't this fun, Mom?" Megan asked over the heads of those people sitting between them. All eyes swung in Elizabeth's direction.

  "It's a blast," she answered, forcing a smile. She was aware of Thad's arm resting on the slats of the wagon behind her. If she leaned back, even a fraction of an inch, she'd be within the curve of his arm. She'd never kept such rigid posture.

  The man operating the hayride maximized the capacity of the wagon. As he loaded the last waiting group, he said, "Scrunch up, please, so everybody can get on. Ma'am, if you wouldn't mind sitting in your husband's lap, it'll make more room.

  With horror, Elizabeth realized that he was speaking to her. She remained as still as a wooden Indian. Everybody in the wagon turned to glare at the uncooperative spoilsport who was holding up the proceedings.

  "Elizabeth?"

  She heard Thad's soft inquiry, like a caressing breath on her ear, but she didn't look at him. Instead, feeling helpless and resigned, she offered no resistance when he lifted her onto his lap.

  "Thanks." The driver of the wagon closed the tailgate behind the last passengers. He moved to the front, took his seat on the top of the wagon, and picked up the reins. Flicking the horse's rump with them, he called back, "Hold on, folks. Here we go.

  The wagon lurched forward. Because she was sitting so stiff and straight, Elizabeth was thrown off balance. She landed hard against Thad's chest. Her bottom slipped into the notch of his thighs. She heard him grunt softly and wondered if it was from pleasure or pain, unsure which she would rather it be.

  "Did you hear what that man said, Mom?" Megan called out to her. "He thought Thad was your husband."

  "That'd be neat," the devil with the red and black face chimed in. "Then I'd have a real dad instead of one who just lives in heaven."

  Groaning, Elizabeth closed her eyes and prayed for invisibility. She blessed the merciful soul who started a round of "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" and drew the crowd's attention away from her.

  She felt the vibration of Thad's silent laughter through his gray suede jacket. "Remind me to murder my children later," she muttered. "I'm so sorry, Thad."

  "For what?"

  "For embarrassing you."

  "You're the one who's embarrassed, not me."

  "And for having to sit on your lap. I hope you don't mind too much."

  His eyes held hers. "Not at all. In fact, as long as we're here," he added gruffly as he slipped his arms around her, "we'd just as well relax and enjoy the, uh ... ride."

  * * *

  He had been charming. His manners had been flawless. He could have been a real cad about having her sit on his lap during the hayride. He could have taken unfair advantage of the situation and sneaked a feel in the dark. It would have been easy, considering that his hands were clasped together just below her breasts for the duration of the jostling ride. But he hadn't.

  He'd been a perfect gentleman. Hadn't he offered her his jacket when the night air had grown cold? Yes, he had. That's when she'd felt his warm breath feather her neck. That's when she'd been tempted to relax her rigid posture, to let her neck go limp, and to rest her head on his shoulder. But she could hardly initiate something romantic when he'd gone out of his way to keep things platonic, could she?

  He'd maintained that friendly, gentlemanly attitude all evening. He had commiserated with Megan and Matt when their raffle tickets for the compact disc player turned out to be losers. He had thanked them repeatedly for inviting him to the Fall Festival. He hadn't dropped them at the curb, but walked them up the sidewalk to their front door and saw them safely inside. His smile had been open and companionable with nary a trace of suggestiveness when he said a private good night to Elizabeth and thanked her again for letting him go with them.

  He had been a good sport about the whole thing.

  So, dammit, why was she disappointed?

  At home now, alone in her upstairs bedroom with the lamp turned low and the shutters closed, why did she wish he'd done something just a shade shady?

  He could have given her one soft nuzzle on the neck during the hayride. He could have raked his thumb along the undersides of her breasts just to let her know that he knew they were there and that they weren't bad for a close-to-thirty mother of two.

  When he helped her down from the wagon, he could have held her against him a second or two longer. When he told her good night after the children had already been sent upstairs to get ready for bed, he could have invited himself in for a quick cup of coffee. He could have given her a friendly good-night kiss on the cheek. He could have done something a little less nice and a lot more exciting.

  Not that she wanted anything of a romantic nature to spark between them. She didn't. It was just that it had been a far more pleasant evening than she'd had any right to expect. He was even more attractive than she had originally thought. His past affairs intrigued her and she was mad to know what kind of woman appealed to him. A man like him didn't stay celibate for long stretches of time. He was a gentleman, but he wasn't dead, and every time that wagon had found a dip in the soccer field and her hips had ground against his lap... No, he definitely wasn't dead.

  Oh, hell. She was being ridiculous. Vexed by her own silliness, she switched off the lamp and pulled the covers up to her chin. Irrationally she was furious with him for being so nice.

  * * *

  Chapter 5

  «^»

  She was still furious when she drove to the market the following afternoon. Since she wasn't going far and wouldn't be gone long, she had left Megan and Matt at home to do their weekend homework. Shopping without them was always easier than having them along, pestering her to buy things they didn't need and couldn't afford.

  The aisles of the supermarket were virtually deserted since the Chicago Bears game was being televised that afternoon. She located everything on her list quickly and was heading for the checkout lane when she saw him enter the store. If he hadn't spotted her at the same time, she would have made a point to avoid him.

  As it was, she gave him a vapid smile and a brief nod, wheeled her basket one hundred and eighty degrees, and took off in the opposite direction. Thinking that she had adroitly maneuvered herself out of an unwelcome encounter, she drew up short when he rounded the end of the next aisle and they met face-to-face.

  "Hi."

  "Hi, Thad."

  "You've got quite a basketful."

  "A whole week's worth. I try to get all my grocery shopping done on the weekend. The week gets so busy. But it seems like I always forget something. As often as not I end up stopping at the store at least once a day anyway." She let her inane chatter dwindle and die. Nervously she shifted from one sneaker-shod foot to the other. "I thought you'd be watching the ball game like every other conscientious fan."

  His lips quirked in a smile. "It's halftime. I came out for reinforcements." He held up a bag of potato chips and a six-pack of beer.

  "Oh, well, don't let me keep you." She rolled her basket forward.

  "If you've got everything, I'll follow you home and carry your groceries in for you."

  "No!" Her exclamation took them both by surprise. "I mean, I wouldn't hear of keeping you from the ball game."

  "No problem, the Bears are ahead by twenty-one points. It's boring."

  Before she could stop him, he added his potato chips and beer to he
r shopping cart, moved her aside, and assumed command of it the way the captain of a ship relieves his boatswain of the wheel.

  "Really, Thad, there's no need—"

  "Well hello!"

  Thad had taken the blind turn at the end of the aisle and crashed into the cart being pushed by the room mother of Megan's class.

  "Hi," Elizabeth said sickly.

  "I saw you at the festival last night. Did you enjoy it?" Her eyes were snapping back and forth between the two of them.

  "I had a great time," Thad replied, since the question had obviously been directed toward him.

  "How nice. They can be such fun." No one said anything for several seconds. "Well, see you."

  "See you." Elizabeth knew that it would circulate through the membership of the PTA that she was more than a casual acquaintance with her date to the Fall Festival. They had been seen shopping together on a Sunday afternoon. That implied... Well, one's imagination could run rampant.

  She waited for the woman to move out of earshot, then took the chips and beer out of her cart and shoved them back at Thad. "I just remembered something else I need to get. Thanks for the offer to carry in my groceries, but you'd better get home. I'm sure halftime is over by now. Bye."

  She was off before he had time to argue. Since the room mother had headed for the dairy case, Elizabeth picked the produce section on the opposite side of the store. She'd browse there until Thad had had sufficient time to leave.

  "What gives?"

  Elizabeth dropped the orange she'd been squeezing and spun around. Thad was standing only inches from her, a grocery bag propped on his hip. It was the first time she'd ever seen him in an angry mood. His brows were lowered into a near scowl.

  "I don't know what you mean."

  "Why'd you give me the classic brush-off?"

  "I didn't."

  "Didn't you?"

  "No. I – I remembered that I promised the kids a pumpkin to carve a jack-o'-lantern out of." He glanced down at the orange bin, trapping her in her he. "I just hadn't gotten around to them yet," she said defensively.

  She deserted the oranges and pushed her basket toward the display of colorful pumpkins. Halloween was still a couple of weeks away. Any jack-o'lantern carved out now would be furry with mold and wrinkled with old age by then, but she had to give her lie validity.

  Every pumpkin in the pyramid-shaped display received her careful scrutiny. Thad was subjecting her to just as careful a scrutiny. She was glad she was wearing the old pink knit sweat suit. Dressed this unglamorously, she hardly looked like a widow trying to entice her bachelor neighbor.

  He was dressed just as casually as she, but still managed to look attractive in a rumpled, comfy, Sunday-afternoon way. He was wearing jeans that were almost bleached white, run-down deck shoes without socks, and a sweatshirt so old that the university seal on the front had bleached to indecipherability.

  He looked like he'd just gotten out of bed and pulled on the first available clothing at hand. Why that should be such a sexy thought, Elizabeth couldn't imagine. Except that she could see it happening ... with her lying in bed watching as he stepped into the snug jeans and zipped them.

  She didn't want to notice anything about him. Not the way he was dressed, or the way he smelled, or the way his hair was endearingly uncombed. Unreasonable as it was, she was miffed at him for not making a pass at her last night. He'd had several golden opportunities, but had capitalized on none of them. Of course, she would have turned him down flat, but he could have tried. Was she that undesirable? That unappealing?

  She'd awakened that morning to the nameless-lover fantasy again. Only this time, the lover's features had been disturbingly similar to the man who was now studying her with remarkable blue eyes as though trying to figure her out.

  "Picked one yet?" he asked.

  "Which one do you like best?"

  "I like the chubby ones."

  "So do I. What do you think of that one?" She pointed at a fat pumpkin.

  "Looks good."

  "I'll send the bag boy over for it then."

  "I'll carry it."

  "Really, Thad, don't bother. You're missing your ball game."

  He looked hard at her for a moment before relenting. "Okay. Maybe later tonight I can come over and help you carve it our."

  "I can manage, but thanks."

  "These things can be tricky. One slip of the butcher knife–"

  "I'm perfectly capable of carving a Halloween jack-o'-lantern for my children."

  Her tone was just plain bitchy. His scowl told her he didn't like it a bit. She had guessed he wouldn't back down from a fight and she was right. He set his grocery bag on the bin of Golden Delicious apples and leaned forward, purring his face to within inches of hers.

  "All right, forget the carving, forget the pumpkin, forget the groceries. Let's talk about something else. What bee got up your butt since last night?"

  Her jaw went slack and she took a step backward. His deliberate vulgarity shocked her. "I don't know what you mean," she said, lying.

  "The hell you don't. What happened between last night and this afternoon to make me persona non grata?"

  "Nothing."

  "That's what I thought. So why aren't we friends anymore? Was it that broad we just ran into? Did you let her curiosity get to you? Are you afraid of the gossip that'll circulate if we're seen together?" He ran a hand through his sexily mussed hair. "Look, Elizabeth, they're going to talk about you simply because you're a young widow with a pretty face and a great body. They'll gossip about us whether we ever go to bed together or not."

  "Which we won't!"

  His eyes narrowed. With one vicious swipe of his arm, he picked up his sack of groceries. Golden Delicious apples went tumbling over the edge of the bin to the floor. "You've got that right. Chameleons are just lizards as far as I'm concerned. They give me the creeps."

  * * *

  "He's gonna get all mushy by Halloween."

  "Then we'll carve another one," Elizabeth told her dubious children.

  "Why did you put him in the back window Mom?"

  "Don't you think he looks good there?"

  "Yeah, but nobody can see him but us."

  Us and the neighbor who lives behind us, Elizabeth was thinking. That's why she'd put the largest candle possible in the pumpkin shell before placing the sneering jack-o'-lantern in the kitchen window. The fact that the neighbor's house was dark and his Jeep wasn't parked in the driveway took a little gilt off her triumph. That and the fact that one of the jack-o'-lantern's eyeballs had been cut out when the butcher knife slipped. She'd had to secure it back in place with toothpicks, but that wouldn't be noticeable from Thad's screened porch.

  "He's for our enjoyment," she said with a bright, brittle parody of a smile. "When he gets yucky, I'll buy another pumpkin and we'll carve him too. Now, help me clean up this mess.

  "Can we toast the seeds?"

  "Not tonight. It's bedtime."

  It was an hour later before bedtime became official and the children were tucked in, prayers said, last drinks of water gotten, final trips to the john taken. Thad, she was dismayed to hear, had been added to each child's list of God blesses along with her, Daddy in heaven, Aunt Lilah, and Grandma and Grandpa from each side of the family. Depending on their behavior any given day, Mrs. Alder's inclusion was optional. She wondered if Thad would become a permanent fixture on those lists.

  His Jeep still wasn't in his driveway when she blew out the candle in the jack-o'-lantern and went upstairs to bed. She read for a while, trying to get sleepy, but she couldn't concentrate on the tedious plot of her library novel.

  How dare he talk to her like that? "What bee got up your butt since last night?" What was she supposed to have done when he walked into the grocery store? Act all aflutter? Lower her eyelashes demurely and humbly thank him for accompanying her and her children to the Fall Festival?

  And he had called her a chameleon! One second he'd been mild-mannered Clark Kent an
d the next he'd been a vulgar-talking heel with a wounded ego. She would be better off to nip this blooming friendship in the bud. He was too volatile. Actually she knew very little about him. Now she didn't want to. Things should have stayed the way they had been before the day Baby got trapped in the tree. Mr. Thad Randolph had been a distant neighbor, somewhat of a mystery man. She wished he had remained so.

  She didn't turn out her lamp until she heard his Jeep pulling into his driveway. Convincing herself that the sleepiness that suddenly overtook her was a coincidence, she snuggled beneath the covers.