by Peggy Webb
She leaned over and pressed a half-eaten bar into his mouth. He took his time, savoring the feel of her hand on his shoulder, the look of sunlight in her eyes, and the touch of her fragrant hair brushing against his cheek. He knew the sweetness he tasted was from her lips and not the candy.
“Enough?” she asked.
“I’ll never get enough.”
“Nor will I.”
Their breathing became harsh as his eyes asked, hers said yes, and they were caught up in the spell. Quicksilver and sun-kissed blue—searching, hungry, passionate, yielding. It was so like old times that the years of emptiness might never have been between them.
Amanda was the first to pull away. She scooted back to her side of the surrey. They were both trembling.
“I was talking about chocolate.”
“So was I.”
She figured one more lie wouldn’t hurt, and he figured Santa was going to leave a lump of coal in his stocking, anyway.
Tanner decided his sanity hinged on getting to the river. He’d always felt right in the presence of the Mississippi, at peace, somehow in tune with the elements of nature.
“Look. There it is, Amanda. The river.” He pointed as they rounded a bend in the road. “It takes your breath away, doesn’t it?”
“Yes. I’m glad we decided not to fight. It would have spoiled everything.”
“I’ve always like that about you, Mandy. You’re a woman with a healthy appreciation of nature and the good sense to recognize a beautiful moment.”
Tanner guided the surrey off the road and stopped underneath a cypress tree. He helped her down, his hands spanning her small waist. She felt soft and feminine and right. A sense of déjà vu swept over him. Still holding her, he closed his eyes and absorbed the fragrance of her—jasminy, sweet, sultry, and seductive, blending with the fertile smells of the sleeping winter earth and the pulsing river.
He opened his eyes and saw a lovely vulnerability in her face. Lord, she would be so easy to love again. It was something he wouldn’t think about right now. Today he would enjoy the moment.
“May I have this dance?”
She put her hands on his shoulders. “Delighted, Tanner.”
They danced beside the river, Tanner humming their favorite Gershwin tune, sunlight warming their skin, contentment warming their hearts.
“Someone to Watch Over Me. I haven’t thought of that song for years, Tanner.”
He loved the huskiness of her voice, the way the sunlight gilded her skin, the way she fit perfectly against him, as if she and she alone were designed to be there.
“Sing with me, Mandy, love.”
Their voices lifted in beautiful harmony. It was a perfect beginning for a perfect day beside the river. They danced until they had exhausted their repertoire of Gershwin songs. Then Tanner spread a quilt under the cypress tree and they stretched out in the sunshine to watch the river traffic. Their talk was lazy and contented, two old friends catching up on the small details of their separate lives. They skirted the painful issues, careful not to mar the tranquility by any mention of Claude. They talked about Amanda’s antique shop and Tanner’s latest venture, a chain of restaurants. She asked about the Donovan Home for Children he’d founded, and he asked about the Legacy for Learning she’d helped organize in Fulton.
As the sun climbed higher, they shed their lightweight sweaters and rolled up their sleeves.
“Feel that sunshine, Amanda.”
“Umm. Delicious.”
“Almost like summer.”
“Yes, but with a little nip in the air.”
“God’s endorsing this picnic.”
“It’s a pity He didn’t remind you to bring real food.” She laughed as she reached for another Hershey bar.
“That’s seven. You’re going to be sick.”
“It’ll be on your conscience.”
“Upsy-daisy.” He took her hands and pulled her to her feet.
“Where are we going?”
“Jogging. If we don’t burn some of that sugar out of your system, you’re going to turn into a sugar cube.”
“I hate jogging.”
“I remember.” He picked her up and raced along the river. “See. It’s not so bad.”
Her face was rosy from sunshine and laughter. “Not as long as you’re doing all the work.”
“That was only temporary, madame.” He kissed her flushed cheek and set her on her feet. “Tomorrow I’m going to hate myself for letting you go, but I can’t have the ruination of that beautiful body on my conscience.” He patted her bottom. “Now march, madame.”
“Slave driver.” She started a slow trot beside him.
“That’s it. One foot in front of the other.”
“Slow down, Tanner.”
“You can do it. Pick up your speed. Get the old heart pumping.”
“This is torture.”
“It’s great.”
“I hate it.”
“I love it.”
“I intend to complain every breath.”
“You’re doing a wonderful job of that.”
“Do you do this every day?”
“Yes. At least six miles a day.”
“If you think I’m going six miles, you’re crazy.”
“Just to that oak tree up ahead.”
“That’s a thousand miles away, Tanner.”
“It’s more like a thousand feet.”
“My feet hurt. I’ve stepped on forty-five rocks, and my shoes aren’t made for running.”
“Poor baby. Of course they’re not. I’m so sorry.”
He scooped her up into his arms once more. “There. Is that better?”
She heaved a big sigh of contentment and cuddled against his chest. “Much better. I’m so glad I came today. I never realized how totally unsuited to each other we are.”
He stood gazing into her face, thinking that he’d never really known how totally suited to each other they were. Amanda, at eighteen, had been bright and beautiful and charming. At thirty-three, she was all that and more, so much more. She had a quick wit and a warm personality and a breathtaking sensuality. Being with her was like having Christmas shining in his soul.
“Yes. Totally unsuited.” His voice was soft, husky, blending with the gentle murmur of the river. “I always loved the way your eyes look in the sunlight, Mandy. There’s a little pot of gold right in the center of all that beautiful blue-green.” He bent closer.
She touched his face, letting her fingertips play tenderly along his cheeks and around his jaw. “Your face, Tanner. I could never forget the strong lines, those wonderful cheekbones, and that square, stubborn jaw.”
He bent so close that their lips were almost touching. “Since we both agree . . .” His tongue drew a lazy circle around her mouth.
She sighed. “. . . that we’re a mismatch.”
“It would be sinful not to kiss you.”
“A waste.”
There was a terrible hunger in their kiss. Like starving lovers too long denied, they devoured each other. They clung together, their soft cries of pleasure muffled against each other’s lips. The love that they so stoutly denied came pouring forth in the kiss.
Tanner lowered Amanda’s feet to the ground, sliding her down his body, branding himself with the glorious feel of her. He buried his left hand in her hair and pulled her closer, reveling in the perfect fit of her hips against his, marveling at the sensations that rocked him.
He wanted to take her right there beside the river, with the winter sun warming their skin. He wanted to strip off her clothes and taste every gorgeous inch of her body. Desire rose in him so strongly that he thought he would explode.
“Mandy . . .” The word was half plea, half groan, spoken against her lips.
“Tanner . . . please.”
As their mouths continued their hungry course, he knew that Amanda was as blinded by passion as he. They were on the cutting edge of danger, about to plunge over. One more minute of this sweet agon
y and there would be no turning back for him. He’d have Amanda—in every way. But it wouldn’t be the end, it would be the beginning; the beginning of madness.
It took every ounce of control he possessed to pull away from her. Looking at her, flushed with desire, was as gut-wrenching as kissing her. He almost made love to her—the consequences be damned.
“That’s a good way to end a picnic.” Years of courage under pressure allowed him to hold his hands steady as he brushed her tumbling hair back from her face. “A simple kiss, no feelings involved.”
“Absolutely none.”
How he loved her courage! She was perfectly poised, meeting his gaze with a cool, steady one that belied her high color and kiss-pouted mouth. He wanted to haul her back into his arms and take her so fiercely, so thoroughly, that she would be bound to him forever. He wanted to enslave her with passion so that she would never turn to another man.
He reached out and cupped her face. “Mandy?”
He wanted to drown in those beautiful eyes she lifted to him. “What is it, Tanner?”
Temptation ripped through him, and he almost gave in. But he knew, looking down at her, that he would be the one enslaved. Taking her again wouldn’t be release; it would be bondage.
He lowered his hands, vowing to himself again that tomorrow would be different. “Time to go home.”
“Yes. I feel guilty leaving Maxine alone in the shop so long. It is the Christmas season, you know.”
He took her hand as they walked toward the surrey. “I’ll help out, Amanda—to make up for taking you away from the shop. I’ve never sold antique ladies’ clothing, but I can learn.”
She laughed. “I can just see you among all those ruffled petticoats and tiny pearl buttons. The ladies would love it, of course, but I’m afraid that with that big athlete’s body you’d be as out of place as a bull in a china shop. No thanks, Tanner.”
They gathered the quilt and the leftover chocolate bars and headed back into town. Progress in the rusty old surrey was slow, but neither of them minded. There was a pleasant camaraderie between them, a comfortable give-and-take that had nothing to do with the past. The image of Amanda that he’d held for eleven years gradually faded under the reality of the Amanda who sat at his side. She was a stunning, mature, multifaceted woman, a woman who was constantly growing and changing, a woman a man would never tire of. He ached for everything he had missed and was missing.
When he left her at the shop, he felt as if there were two minutes left in the game and he’d thrown a touchdown pass that had missed its mark.
“What I need is a hot meal and a restoration of sanity.” Talking to the mule seemed ordinary under the circumstances.
He loosened the reins and urged old Josephine homeward.
o0o
“If you don’t look like the cat that swallowed the canary, I don’t know who does.” Maxine pulled out a chair and motioned to Amanda. “Sit down and tell me every delicious detail.”
Amanda sat down, pulled off her shoes, and rubbed her feet. “How was business today?”
“Business! You want to talk business when I’m dying of curiosity?”
Amanda quickly surveyed the shop. “I see the red velvet and the black satin dresses are gone. Who bought them?”
“Evelyn Jo bought the red, and a Mrs. David Blasengame from somewhere up north, Milwaukee, or somewhere snowbound and frigid, bought the black. Now quit pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about and tell me why you’re all pink and flushed and gorgeous and looking like you’ve had sex.”
“Maxine, if you weren’t my dearest and oldest friend, I’d fire you on the spot. Furthermore, I’d be offended.”
Maxine laughed. “You’re too softhearted to fire me, and you’re too tolerant to be offended. I love you like a sister, and I know that something happened on that picnic today.”
Amanda felt a rush of affection for her friend. Confiding might help ease the burden. She raked her hand through her hair and glanced toward the door to make sure no customers were coming into the shop. “I’m afraid I’m falling in love with Tanner Donovan all over again.”
“That’s wonderful.”
“That’s horrible. We’ve hurt each other before. I don’t want to go through that again.”
“How do you know it would happen again?”
“I don’t know. It’s just a risk that I’m not willing to take.” She jumped up and began to pace. “Somehow I’ve got to get Tanner out of my system.”
“I hope you have friends in high places.”
“Why?”
“From the looks of you, I think that’s going to take an act of Congress.”
A reply didn’t seem necessary. Besides, what could she say? Maybe Maxine was right. Maybe it would take an act of Congress to get Tanner out of her system. But she was going to try. By George, if it took till this time next year, she was determined to do it.
She went to the back room and began sorting the petticoats she’d found at an auction in Vicksburg.
o0o
Tanner had the old surrey as far as Tudberry’s two blocks from Amanda’s shop when he realized he had to go back. There was something he needed to do—kiss her again. A gentleman always kissed a lady good-bye. He’d been a fool not to take advantage of that delightful custom.
Whistling a perky tune, he turned the surrey around and headed back toward Amanda’s. He was halfway there before he became aware of the song he was whistling—Taking a Chance on Love. He stopped in mid-verse and swore to himself. Damn, he wasn’t going to fall in love with the woman again. He merely wanted to kiss her.
Snapping the reins over the mule’s back, he urged her forward.
He felt a keen sense of loss when he stepped into the antique shop. Amanda was nowhere in sight.
Maxine made a beeline for him. “Hi there, good-looking. What can I get for you? As if I didn’t know.” She fluffed her hair and winked.
Tanner chuckled. “Is clairvoyance one of your talents?”
“I don’t have to be clairvoyant to know you’ve come back to see Amanda. Am I right, or what?”
“You’re right. When I left her here earlier, there was something I forgot to do.”
“She’s in the back room, but I’m not so sure she’ll be glad to see you. She’s trying to get you out of her system.”
Tanner knew he should be happy about that news, but he wasn’t. Not by a long shot. As a matter of fact, he reacted the same way old Josephine would if she had a burr under her saddle. He got ornery as hell.
“She is, is she? We’ll see about that.” He barely noticed Maxine’s smile of devilish glee as he settled his ten-gallon hat firmly on his head and stalked toward the back room.
Amanda didn’t see him at first. She was leaning over a trunk, her slacks stretched across her backside in a way that would set angels to thinking about sin. Tanner leaned against the doorway and took it all in. He remembered every curve and hollow of those hips—and exactly how they felt. Satiny, smooth, and firm. His mouth went dry. Reaching up, he swiped his hand across his brow. Maybe he should have kept on going toward home.
Amanda leaned deeper into the trunk, muttering to herself. Something about “damned puny buttons and froufrou.” Tanner wasn’t certain what she’d said. Nor did it matter. That last move had outlined her lingerie lines in clear relief. No panty line, merely the imprint of lace high up the side of her thigh. A teddy, he thought. Underneath those slacks she had on a teddy with French-cut sides. He wondered if it was black lace. Sweat beaded his upper lip, and he didn’t even bother to wipe it away.
He remembered the first time he’d seen her in a black lace teddy. It had been the summer between their senior year and college, long, lazy days when love seemed their own invention, and the future merely a bright, indefinable light that beckoned to them.
They’d gone down to Biloxi with a group of high-school friends, the sort of outing that marked good-bye to youth and initiation into adulthood. He and the rest of t
he boys had been deep-sea fishing that day while all the girls had gone shopping. That night, sunburned but still bursting with energy, they’d all gone dancing. Afterward Amanda had come to his room. It hadn’t been the first time they’d loved, but it turned out to be one of the most memorable.
Something about her had been different that night, as if she’d cast off the shy vulnerability of a teenager and become a woman. She’d been provocative, sensuous, and incredibly passionate. With the lights turned down low, she’d pushed him into an easy chair and stood before him. Then she’d stripped. The loud thrumming of his heart was the only music she needed. He’d felt certain she heard it.
First she’d taken the pins from her hair ever so slowly, caressing each flaming strand as it fell to her shoulders. At that moment he could have buried himself in her hair and died happy. He remembered how he’d felt, just looking at her hair. Then she’d slowly unzipped her dress, a bright red taffeta party frock. The sound of the zipper had sent chills through him. When she’d lowered the dress and revealed the black lace teddy underneath, he’d thought he’d die.
He’d started toward her then, but she’d held up her hand, stilling him. Not touching her had been sweet agony, but afterward he was glad he’d waited. She’d stepped out of the dress and stood before him, legs apart, hands on her hips, wearing nothing except the black lace teddy, red high heels so sexy that they should have been declared hazardous to his sanity, and a smile.
It was then that he made love to her, swiftly and thoroughly. Bending her over backward, he’d devoured her mouth. Locked together, he’d guided them to the bed.
It had been one of those unforgettable nights. From that moment on he’d never seen black lace without thinking of her.
Standing in the doorway, watching her bent over the trunk and thinking about that night, he felt his desire growing. Wanting her caused physical pain, but he knew he couldn’t take her, not even to get her out of his system. Deep inside, he knew that their rejoining would be a thunderous affair. And Maxine was out there in the shop. When the time came, he wouldn’t have an audience.
He felt a moan of agony rise in his throat, the pain of denial. Whether he’d given voice to the agony, he didn’t know, but suddenly Amanda’s back stiffened. She whirled around. Bright spots of color rode high on her cheeks.
