“I think I’ll stick with white wine. I’ll have enough trouble dealing with Brad tomorrow without the added handicap of a headache.”
“Let’s not talk about Brad.” He signaled for the waitress and gave their orders. “I have a score to settle with him, and I’m not prepared to like him until I do.”
“After what he did, I don’t blame you. I don’t want to think about those three weeks. I was so unhappy.”
“So was I, but thank God, it’s behind us.” The band struck the first chords of a Ray Charles hit that she couldn’t identify by name, and Sloan stood and extended his hand to her. “Dance with me. I want you in my arms, and right now, this is the only way.”
He held her loosely enough so that he could look down into her face. “One of these days, I’m going to love you, really love you the way I know I can. I’m not talking about the physical—I’m talking about what’s in here.” He pointed to his heart.
“Me, too. When I’m alone I don’t have doubts, but I have questions...about myself, I mean. When I’m with you, I’m so sure.”
His arms tightened around her. “Do you doubt that you love me?”
“Never. Somehow, I’m convinced that after the US Open next year, my life will straighten itself out.”
The movement of his hand down her back sent tremors throughout her body, and she knew that he felt them because he moved backward just enough to gaze into her eyes.
“Do you want to leave?”
He knew her well, so she didn’t bother to be demure, but merely nodded. They rode in silence until he stopped the car in front of her house and looked at her. “I’d like to come in.”
“I expected that you would. It’s Christmas Eve, and I can’t imagine saying good-night to you in this car.”
He reached into the glove compartment and took out a small bag, then went around and opened the door for her. “Thanks for not beating me to it,” he said. “I know you can open the door, but it gives me pleasure to do it for you.”
She didn’t comment because her hand was on the door handle when he opened it. Inside the house, he locked the door, and she decided that if she was to have the kind of Christmas Eve with him that she craved, she had to set the scene.
“It’s a little chilly,” she told him, “so I think I’ll light the fireplace.” She did and then flipped the switch that lit the Christmas tree beside the fireplace. The effect was nearly ethereal, if she did say so herself. With no other light in the room, the setting was as in a dream world. “Have a seat and excuse me for a minute.” Upstairs, she brushed her teeth, freshened up her body and dabbed some perfume behind her ears.
“Would you like a drink? Coffee? A liqueur?”
He shook his head and patted the seat beside him on the sofa. “Merry Christmas.” His arms locked her to him and his lips opened over hers. She parted them to take him in, and knew at once that he was demanding all of her. With his tongue deep in her mouth and his hands roaming over her, a yearning to have his penis buried deep in her pulsating vagina took hold of her, and the memory of how he made her feel as he possessed her did the rest. She grabbed his hand and dipped it into the bosom of her low-cut dress. As he pinched and rubbed her nipple, liquid accumulated in her mouth, and she had to have more. Recklessly she used his hand to make her nipple accessible to his mouth and pressed his head with her other hand. Her groan split the air when his warm mouth covered her nipple and began to suck it vigorously.
“I want you inside me. Oh Lord. I’ll die if you don’t get in me.” She tried to remove his jacket, but he resisted.
“Upstairs,” he whispered.
“No. Here. Now. Right now.”
He stared at her for a second, then flung off the jacket and his shirt, unzipped her dress and slid it off her body. She didn’t try to still her dancing hips as he kicked off his trousers and shoes, placed her on the floor and stood over her staring down at her body, bare but for a red G-string.
“Oh, shit,” he said. And then he was in her, wild and furious as he stormed within her. Almost immediately, the sensitive walls of her vagina began their pumping and squeezing and then locked themselves to him, holding him prisoner.
“Honey, I’m going to die. I’m... Oh Lord,” she screamed, and he shouted in sweet agony and gave himself to her.
* * *
Later, Sloan sat with his back against the sofa, drained of energy. “That lasted five minutes,” he said, “but I’ve never been so exhausted in my life. It seems as if everything went out of me.”
“I feel the same way. What happened?”
He released a half laugh. “Sweetheart, abstinence is no good for us. We’re going to have to do something about this.”
“Don’t I know it. Would you please look in the bathroom over there and get me a towel?”
“What for?”
“Because I’m not going to walk around here with no clothes on.”
He knew better than to laugh. If he hadn’t seen it, she didn’t have it. He got the towel, handed it to her and smothered a laugh as she managed to wrap it around herself while sitting down. She walked over to the Christmas tree, got a package and brought it back to him.
“I hope you like it,” she said.
He opened the beautifully wrapped package and stared at the brown gold-initialed leather kit that was meant for his personal items. “This is magnificent. I’ve never had one, and I really appreciate it. It’s a very thoughtful gift.” He planned to make good use of it. “This isn’t what I would have preferred to give you this Christmas,” he said. “It’s a substitute.”
She opened the box and gasped at the lustrous strand of eight-millimeter cultured pearls. Her eyes widened, and her gaze traveled from him to the pearls and back to him. “I’ve never had anything like this. These are beautiful.” She flung her arms around him and pressed her lips to his. The towel fell away.
“Hold it,” he said, “unless you want to start something again.”
She looked down at her bare breasts and pulled up the towel. “Sorry.”
Both of his eyebrows shot up. “Well, I’m not. And I’d better get out of here if I’m going to get that nine o’clock flight to Galveston.”
“My plane’s leaving at eight-thirty. Pity me,” she said. “Remember we’re having dinner with Thelma on the twenty-seventh.”
“I haven’t forgotten.” He dressed hurriedly and, still wrapped in the bath towel, she told him goodbye at the door. “I love you, sweetheart,” he said, and that was one thing of which he was certain.
“And I love you.”
* * *
On December 29, Sloan pointed out Drake Harrington, who waited for them in the Baltimore International Airport. “There he is, Lynne. Over there.”
“It’s great to see you, brother,” Drake said, opening his arms and embracing Sloan. He looked at her. “As lovely as I remembered. I’m glad you could come. Pamela was hoping that the two of you were still an item. I had confidence that my man here is too smart to let you get away.”
Sloan grasped the shoulders of his longtime friend. “Truth is, Drake, I’m still stunned that you’re taking the plunge. You’ve always been so goal-oriented that I figured you wouldn’t get married for years to come.”
Drake grinned. “That’s what I thought, too, but, man, when this thing hits you, you can fight it all you want to, but you don’t stand a chance of winning. Might as well give in and let nature take her course. And the minute you cave in, you’ve never been so happy in your life. The sun shines bright, the air is sweeter and everything changes.”
Sloan inclined his head slightly and smiled. “Tell me about it.”
Drake looked at Lynne. “Don’t let up. In fact, my advice is to increase the pressure. My car’s this way.”
“It’s a good thing I don’t mind what you’re
telling Lynne. How’re your brothers reacting to your getting married?”
“Don’t ask, man. They’re relieved. They got married and couldn’t stand the fact that I was single. Actually, they were right about Pamela.” For a minute, he became reflective. “That woman makes my soul sing.”
“Where will you and Pamela live?” Lynne asked him.
“I’ve started building a house on Harrington property not too far from my ancestral home, where you’ll be staying. My brother Russ got married last year, and we’ve just finished building his house. My and Pamela’s house will be about a third of a mile from his. It’s a lovely area and in the summer, the view will be spectacular with the trees green and all the wildflowers in bloom.”
When they arrived at Harrington House, Alexis Harrington, tall, willowy and beautiful, met them at the door. “I’m so glad to meet you, Sloan.” She turned to Lynne. “And I’ve been rooting for you during each of your matches. By this time next year, you’ll be number one. I’m so glad you could come.”
Lynne thanked her. “I’m happy to meet you, Alexis, and especially since you believe I’ll reach my goal. Australia will tell the tale.”
“No, it won’t,” Alexis told her. “Only the end of the year will tell. Come on in and meet the rest of the family. This evening we’ll have the rehearsal and after that, the bridal toast. Tonight’s supper here at home will be promptly at seven. Drake, please take Lynne’s bag to the guest room and Sloan’s to Russ’s room.” When she looked, her face bore a sly smile. “I’m sorry to have to put you two so far apart, but others have managed to cross that bridge.”
* * *
“Are you coming to the wedding?”
Sloan looked down into the little girl’s eager face. “Why yes, I am.”
Alexis patted the child’s shoulder. “This is my daughter, Tara. Tara, our guests are Miss Lynne and Mr. Sloan.”
The child glanced at Lynne. “Welcome, Miss Lynne.” Then she smiled up at him, her preference for men obvious to anyone who cared to notice it. “I have a little brother, too. My dad put him in my mummy’s tummy.”
Apparently accustomed to Tara’s glibness, Alexis said, “They know how it’s done, Tara.”
The little girl looked up at her mother with a perplexed expression on her face. “They do? Who told them?”
He laughed because he couldn’t help it, but he also couldn’t help wondering if and when he would have a daughter or son who would look at him as lovingly and trusting as that little girl looked at her mother.
“It’s something that adults know,” Alexis said, and the child smiled, content with the answer. He let his gaze sweep Lynne’s face and caught his breath at the expression of longing in her eyes. Helpless to do otherwise, he opened his arms and drew her close to him.
Sloan sat beside Lynne on the Harrington side of the First Presbyterian Church in Frederick, Maryland, wondering when his own day would come. He had never seen Lynne so beautiful; she might well have been the bride. Gowned in a long, figure-hugging royal-blue sleeveless silk dress with its own jacket, she dazzled him. Her only jewelry was the string of pearls that were his Christmas gift to her. He squeezed her fingers, and she smiled in that special, intimate way of hers. Then, she whispered, “I love you,” and he thought his heart would fly out of his chest.
The first strains of the organ brought his attention to the business at hand. Drake Harrington—elegant in full dress and white tie as was his brother, Telford, beside him—was about to wed Pamela Langford. He turned and looked back to see Tara—a small vision in pink—and a handsome boy near her age, also in full dress, walking up the aisle as Tara strew pink rose petals. The Harrington women, resplendent in gowns of a pinklike color, followed them. He thought the maid of honor had the most regal bearing of any woman he’d seen walk. He wondered what kind of work she did.
Finally the organ pealed forth the first bars of “Here Comes the Bride,” and the audience stood and turned to see Pamela Langford escorted by her father, as proud a man as he’d ever seen. She wore a traditional white satin gown and veil, a single strand of white pearls, white elbow-length gloves, a seed-pearl tiara, and her long white-satin train swept behind her.
I can imagine how you feel, man, he said to himself when he glanced at Drake and saw the smile that spread over his face and the look of pride that accompanied it.
When at last Pamela stood beside Drake, he faced his bride and, throughout the ceremony, he looked only at her. By the time the minister pronounced them husband and wife, tears cascaded down both their faces. They gazed at each other, seemingly in a world of their own, until the minister said for a second time, “You may kiss your bride.” He didn’t press a quick kiss to her lips, but wrapped her in his arms with a sense of urgency, and kissed her as if he was alone with her in the moonlight, bringing first a gasp and then a prolonged applause from the congregation.
Sloan looked at the woman beside him and saw that she, too, was unable to hold back the tears. He put an arm around her and drew her close to him. And he prayed silently that their day would come.
At the reception that followed, the obvious love of the Harrington family members for each other touched Sloan deeply, for it was so profound and so profuse that he felt enveloped in it.
“This is a wonderful, happy family,” he said to Henry, who stood nearby.
“And it ain’t just for show,” Henry said. “I’ve been with the Harrington family since Russ over there was four years old. I raised these boys to love each other, and they were smart enough to find loving women. You married to this lady on the other side of you?”
“No, but—”
“She’s got good manners and fine taste,” Henry said. “If everything else is in place, I’d go for that one. She makes a man look good.”
“Thank you, Henry,” he said. “I’m working on it, and I appreciate your goodwill.”
* * *
Lynne stepped out of the airport in Sydney, Australia, and was tempted to run back inside; not even in San Antonio had she experienced such stifling heat. She knew that January was Australian summer, but the import of that didn’t sink in until she experienced the blazing sun. There for the Medibank International Tennis Tournament, a warm-up for the much more prestigious Australian Open, she told herself that heat was a part of the tennis player’s lifestyle, and she would grin and bear it.
“How’s it going?” Sloan asked her when he called after her second match. “The tournament’s not broadcast over here.”
“I won the first two matches relatively easily, but the day after tomorrow Patty Lanier ought to be tough. How’re things at Castle Hills?”
“You’ll play rings around that girl. Putting a service center there was a good move. We’re busy nonstop from opening to closing time, and Ben is a born manager. I’m lucky to have an honest and capable man like him. I’m already scouting for a site on which to place a third center two or three years down the road. I want McNeil Motor Service to be a household name in this part of the country.”
“And it will be. I’m confident that you’ll accomplish whatever you set out to do.”
When he didn’t respond, she said, “Surely you don’t disagree with me.”
“I take it you’re aware that my prime goal right now is you, and that I’m out to get you for myself. You still think I can accomplish anything I set out to do?”
“Sloan, in a telephone call with half the world separating us is no time to discuss such things. But as in everything else, I’m on your side in that, too.”
After nearly a minute of silence, his laughter greeted her. “That is the damnedest and most convoluted answer I ever heard. But, baby, I’ll take it. If you’re with me in this, I can’t lose.”
As Sloan predicted, she won against Lanier in straight sets, 6–1, 6–1. However, the following morning, she awoke with what app
eared to be a strained back. She sent for a trainer, had her back taped and was advised to skip practice that day and rest. Gary spread the word about Lynne’s back, mostly to psych her fourth-round opponent into thinking that the match with Lynne would be an easy one. He needn’t have bothered. They played the first set to a tie, which Lynne won after an hour of play, and then she walked away with the second set with six points to none for her opponent.
She won over the crowd with her doggedness, for she chased every ball for every point, thrilling the onlookers. However, during her next match, her first semifinal since her return to tennis, she had to retire after the second game, a victim of the heat.
“I’m so sorry to hear that, but you were wise to quit. You might have had a sunstroke, and that is a serious thing. How do you feel about playing in the Open less than a week from now?” Sloan asked her.
“I’m told it should be a bit cooler in Melbourne. In any case, I’m going for it. I finally made it to the semifinal, even if it is a smaller tournament, and I’m feeling pretty strong mentally right now.”
“I don’t have to tell you that I wish I was there. If you need me, call me, and I’ll be there as fast as planes fly.”
“I know, and it’s one of the reasons why you’re so dear to me.”
“I owe you one for that. Blow me a kiss, sweetheart.” She did, and he returned it. “I’ll be waiting for you when you get back here. Stay away from those Australian cowboys.”
What might have been a laugh came out as a giggle. “I’ll try.” She listened for the words that she suddenly had a need to hear, and as if he knew what was in her head and her heart, he said, “I’m in love with you, Lynne. I love you.”
“I’m glad, because I love you.”
* * *
She checked into the elegant Crown Towers Hotel in Melbourne, grateful that the heat there was less intense than in Sydney, and began unpacking. The phone rang, and she rushed to answer it, certain that she would hear Sloan’s voice.
“I figured you’d be more receptive if I came all the way here just to talk with you.”
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