Читать книгу May The Best Man Wed - Darlene Scalera - Страница 11

Savannah had expected that Cash would drive a sleek sporty number made for speed and sin. He didn’t disappoint her. The roadster was cherry-red and topless.

“Good night, Cash.” She headed toward her four-door sedan—rated first in its class for safety.

“Good night?” He had thought her behind him. He now slouched against the roadster’s side, recklessness meeting recklessness, and folded his arms. Every already-more-than-sufficient upper torso muscle expanded into “Body by Jake” territory.

She reached her car. “Don’t worry. I’ll wait until you pole-vault into that little number to make sure you don’t injure any vital parts.”

A thick lock of hair fell charmingly across his brow. “Mine or the car’s?”

She met his shameless features. “I imagine both are extremely precious to you.”

The lazy sweep of his hand as he combed back his hair was echoed by the easy curve of his lips. “You imagined right.” He pushed off from the car. “So, no drink?”

She opened her car door. “You couldn’t keep up with me.” She liked too much the sound of his laughter floating behind her. She slid into the driver’s seat, careful not to slam the door and reveal her aggravation. Her first instinct about Cash Walker this morning had been correct. He was a dangerous, dangerous man.

He strolled over to her car, propped his forearms on the opened window. “You still owe me a bourbon.”

So much for a clean getaway. She smiled indulgently. “I don’t recall ever making a definite date.”

He leaned in closer. “I believe we just did…about three minutes ago.”

“No, three minutes ago you made up an excuse to get out of there without looking as if you were running away.”

“Is that what happened, sis?”

She eyed this man who so effortlessly elicited a rare impulse in her—to leap over any barrier and throttle him. This same man who would soon be forever linked to her as family. She couldn’t decide if she should be ashamed or rueful that she hadn’t acted on her first and only-ever primal urge this morning.

“You do have a pattern.”

Again, she stared at that column of bronzed flesh as if ready to reach out, take its length between her hands as if only to feel the pulse of life beneath her palms. For a woman who didn’t scare easily, she suddenly was afraid.

“I’m sorry,” she said to herself as well as to him.

He smiled. “Don’t apologize—not when you’re right.”

She’d kill him yet.

“Yes, I made up the excuse, but—” He held up an index finger. “You knew it, and here you are. Here we both are. You see, I’m what’s commonly known as a bad influence.”

She considered her murderous instincts and the man’s face too close to hers. “And you enjoy every second of it.”

His smile became laughter. She couldn’t remember when she’d ever heard such unfettered enjoyment. Her shoulders eased from the rolling wave of it alone. Such a dangerous man.

“That’s why you won’t have a drink with me?”

She realized she’d been staring at that mobile, full mouth. She stopped her own smile that had come uninvited. “Why do you want to have a drink with me?” Her voice had become as honestly earnest as his had been tempting. For a moment, the element of surprise was on her side.

“I like you.”

The surprise rebounded to her, but stayed concealed beneath her dry tone. “You like me?”

“You’re fascinating.”

She would have rolled her eyes, but she refused to show reaction. She knew good and well she was hardly the kind of woman men found fascinating. That was her sister’s department, along with the vast bevy of breathy, curvaceous beauties that after tobacco and cotton seemed to be the South’s greatest crop.

She propped her chin on her fist. “How so?”

“For starters, you’ve been the only one not to accuse me of putting evil ideas inside my brother’s head. That’s as close to a defense as I’ll get within a hundred-mile radius of these parts.”

She let him study her.

“How do you know I didn’t tell McCormick to chuck it all and take off for the wide-open spaces?”

She looked into his eyes. “I don’t.”

His laughter was so close this time it seemed to sing inside her.

“But I don’t believe in condemning a man without cause.”

“Many would say a man’s past is enough cause for conviction.”

“And I would say everyone makes mistakes. I’m not fascinating. Merely fair.”

“But that’s not all I find intriguing.”

She pressed her lips together and waited.

“With the wedding right around the corner—”

“Eleven days.”

“Eleven days.”

His smile aggravated her.

“Your fiancé scribbles you a note and hightails it out of town. Do you sob your eyes out, scream epitaphs or consider contacting someone named Carmine in New Jersey? No, you sit here cooler than my Aunt Raybelle’s prize-winning key lime pie.” His voice lowered. “Fascinating.”

She sensed his observation wasn’t entirely complimentary.

“So according to you, right now I should be a woman destroyed, collapsed somewhere, clutching my chest, writhing and wailing ‘why me?”’ she said without inflection.

He kept his voice velvet. “It would be something to see.” That damn smile.

“It might amuse you—” his smile wasn’t widening, was it? “—but I find such self-indulgence unbecoming.” Her chin still set on her fist, she examined his extravagant features. She wasn’t sure for how long—seconds or centuries. “You don’t think I love your brother, do you?”

The upper hand of surprise was again to her benefit but, as before, only fleetingly.

“You must know by now that what I think is of little importance in this family.”

“Well, I’d like to know what you think.”

He paused a moment too long while Savannah told herself she didn’t care.

“If that plucky little speech you just delivered inside was for real and you weren’t just blowing smoke to buy some time before your father puts out an APB on McCormick, then I’d say my brother is a lucky man.”

She smiled carefully, not wanting to reveal relief. “Or I’m a foolish woman?”

“People in love are always fools.” His amusement was gone, leaving only darkness on the man’s features. A darkness that could encourage the doubts Savannah had been battling since she had opened McCormick’s note.

“Anything else you would like to know about me?” She was anxious to end the interview before doubts gained strength, insisted she succumb.

He didn’t even hesitate. “Do you love my brother?”

“Land’s sake, what kind of a question is that?” Even she was surprised by the anger in her response. She should look away, conceal any unwanted emotion that might come to her features, but she didn’t dare.

“It seems like a reasonable question considering you’re about to marry him.”

She wished he’d step back from the car. “I may not be a woman of passions—”

“On the contrary, Ms. Sweetfield, I think you are exactly that.”

She scanned his face but found no mockery. Despite the fact emotions did seem to come too easily when he was around, he was wrong. She was a rational woman. “You would not ask me that question if you knew me.”

“But I don’t know you. And you only think you know me. So, do you love my brother?”

“I suppose you asked your brother if he loved me?” she challenged.

“Sure did.”

Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. He was waiting for her to ask what McCormick had answered but she had no reason to, she reminded herself. Maybe McCormick and she weren’t the type to wear their emotions on their sleeves, but their consideration and respect for one another were as real as those who waxed poetic. Of course, Cash, a man so obviously ruled by his passions, could never understand such an agreeable arrangement. Naturally, he’d be compelled to question the relationship.

“I understand your concern.” She was bolstered by the reasonableness in her voice. “And I find it endearing that you care so much about your brother.”

His unrestrained laughter shook her to her cool core.

“Did I say something amusing?”

He actually wiped away tears. “I’m sure you’ve decided by now, darlin’, I’m the most unendearing man you’ll ever meet.”

She was careful to modulate her tone. “You do have a certain gift to provoke.”

“Ahh, you see…” His eyes sparkled. “I knew beneath that collected exterior there raged a wildcat.”

She would end up throttling him before the night was over. “What you don’t understand and have not had a chance to witness is the fact that your brother and I are a perfect match. What he wants out of life, I want and vice-versa. We’ve never even had one fight. Bottom line, I can’t imagine anyone or anything better for me than McCormick. I’m crazy for him, totally wild, absolutely gaga.”

He straightened, his laughter loose. “You’ve never been gaga in your life, Slick.”

Why hadn’t she strangled him when she had the strategy of self-defense on her side? “McCormick and I were made for each other. You can ask anyone who knows us.”

He finally stopped smiling. Still she didn’t like the expression on his face.

“I’m asking you.”

“And I answered you.” She allowed no hesitation in her voice. Yet somehow he had gained the upper hand and he knew it. “Your brother will be back in two, three days tops—”

“So you said.”

“You don’t believe he’s coming back?”

“Again, it doesn’t matter what I believe. What matters is what you believe.”

“Damn straight.” She imagined fierceness in her face and struggled to smooth her features. “McCormick is coming back, and we’ll be married and incredibly, extraordinarily, blissfully happy for the rest of our lives.” She put her car into gear but Cash didn’t step away.

“Any more questions?” She called on the politeness inbred in all Southern women. She tipped her head back, matching his gaze. She didn’t like the rare soft brush of her hair against her shoulders. In the silent seconds, she heard the sound of her heartbeat.

Finally he said, “Just one.”

She braced herself.

“So, I won’t have to cancel Dee Dee and her Dancing Divas for the bachelor party?”

She used her most executive tone. “Oh, yes, you will.”

His smile returned as he chucked her under the chin as if she were no more than a child. “Good night, Savannah-Banana.”

Slick! Sis! Savannah-Banana! Not to mention the obligatory darlin’ and sweetheart. She watched him walk away, welcoming the relief, resigning herself to the irritation, surprised by a piddling curiosity. That’s as far as she dared to delve into the emotions that suddenly seemed ready to capsize her.

He turned as he reached his car. Too late, she realized she hadn’t taken her eyes off him. He rested his hand on the car’s side.

“Just so you won’t be disappointed.”

In one smooth motion, he hurdled himself behind the wheel. He looked down, back at her, wriggled his eyebrows.

“All precious parts intact.”

She fixed him with her longest stare of the night. “I don’t know if I like you.”

He grinned, all little boy now. “You like me.”

He drove off. Probably to look for the devil himself, she decided. She headed home, vowing to dream of McCormick and that they would be wonderful dreams. Instead she found herself lying wide awake in bed, contending with the fear that had threatened to topple her since she’d opened her office door that morning. She waited and waited for sleep to come. But even counting curses against Cash Walker instead of her usual recitation of fundamental strategies for achieving success in the twenty-first century didn’t do the trick.

Savanna woke the next morning without dreaming of McCormick, but the two hours sleep that had finally come were enough to restore her. With the day’s new coherency and a review of her daily planner, which was always within reach, also came the realization that she hadn’t told Cash about his fitting today. It was totally unlike her to be so inept. Only yesterday’s unusual circumstances permitted her to forgive herself and move on to fixing her blunder. Now if McCormick were here, she could simply call him and he would see his brother got to the fitting. Problem solved. Except McCormick wasn’t exactly here, was he?

She didn’t allow the thought to go any further. In the day’s new light, she refused to entertain any more doubts about her fiancé’s untimely trip.

She’d just have to make certain Cash got to the appointment herself.

“I’M SORRY, Ms. Sweetfield.” The Walkers’ maid came back on the phone line. “I knocked very loudly on his door but there was no answer.”

“Are you sure he’s in there?”

“I heard snoring, ma’am.”

Savannah released an exasperated breath as she checked the clock. No self-respecting individual sleeps until nine on a weekday. “Is anyone else home?”

“No, ma’am. Mrs. Walker just left for the salon and Mr. Walker is at the office, of course.”

“And I suppose Sam drove Mrs. Walker to her appointment?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, I doubt the bedroom door is locked. Just go in and give him a good, hard shake. That ought to do the trick.”

“Oh no, ma’am,” the other woman protested. “I couldn’t do that. He’s a grown man.”

“So he claims.” Savannah sighed again. “Listen, I’m coming right over. If, on the unlikely chance he does get up, don’t let him leave the house before I get there. He has an appointment at eleven and he’s not going to miss it.”

She arrived at the Walkers’ three-story Georgian in record time. Still, it was almost nine-forty. She’d been up for over four and a half hours already. The most Cash had probably done in that time was roll over.

She marched in as soon as the front door opened. “Which room is he in?” she asked the maid as she started up the stairs.

“Second floor, fifth door on your left, ma’am.”

Savannah reached the second-floor landing and strode down the hall to Cash’s room. She rapped on the door loudly. Without waiting for an answer, she twisted the knob. By the time Cash showered and dressed, they’d be lucky if they made the appointment on time.

“Cash?” She announced herself to the lump burrowed beneath the bedcovers. She marched to the window and threw back the curtains. She turned, triumphant. Still no sign of life from the bed. She marched to the bed, put her hand on what she presumed was a shoulder and gave it a good shake. “Cash, get up now.”

With a groan, he rolled over. His eyes still closed, he warned, “You’re gonna pay for that, Angeline.” Grabbing Savannah’s hand, he pulled her down onto the hard heat of his body.

Her mouth opened, only to be covered by his, his hands capturing the back of her head, thrust into her hair, holding her fast. He crushed her lips beneath his own, the kiss hot, urgent as if he’d been waiting his whole life for her. Shock, outrage and a sudden sense she had never been kissed before filled Savannah. Her anguish seemed to fall, matter no more beneath a passion and, heaven help her, a pleasure spreading, flowing through every inch of her, striking her senseless.

She squirmed, but her movements, the friction of muscle and flesh, were desire’s dance. An unintelligible plea came from the back of her throat, but Savannah could no longer be sure for what she begged. Her efforts had eased her lips wider, unwittingly provoking that hard, wonderful mouth deeper. She tasted a wildness, the sting of uncontrol. She stopped squirming. Her hands fisted against the sides of the body blanketed beneath her, against the heat, the power, the scorching need.

With a fierce twist of her head, she wrenched her mouth free. She held the breath that would come out as a gasp.

“You’re in bigger trouble now.” His hands reached for her once more.

“Cash!” she snapped, an inch from his face.

He opened his eyes; she filled his vision. “Whoa!” His head jerked back, surprise taking all the hooded sensuality out of his features. She wanted to jump up and run from his provocative power searing her body. She didn’t move. She’d be damned if she’d give him the satisfaction. It was too late anyway. She’d known his kiss, even though it had been meant for another and meant nothing. Yes, that was the thought she would cling to when the memory came.

She tasted her lips. “I see you had that drink after all last night.”

Amusement moved into his features. The sensuality had already returned. “You should have come with me, Savannah-Banana.”

“It’s a regret I’ll learn to live with.” With as much dignity as possible, she rolled off his body and rose from the bed. She looked down at him with perfect composure. “Get up and get dressed.”

He shrugged. “Okay, but I’ve got to warn you I sleep in the nude.” He started to push back the covers.

“I already knew that.” Savannah moved to the door, adjusting the starched collar and cuffs of her shirtwaist, as his rich laughter came. “You have a fitting at Mr. Max’s Formal Wear today. We’re to be there in less than an hour. I’ve never been late for an appointment in my life and I don’t intend to start now.” She walked from the room without another look at him.

He sank back against the pillows as the door closed, Savannah’s sweet taste and soft warmth still holding him like a dream. He had drunk too much last night for the first time in many years. Yet it was also the first time he’d been home in many years. A throbbing ache began in his head. He closed his eyes, but not to relieve the pain. No, he welcomed the pain. He closed his eyes to wipe out the memory of the moment that had just happened. Desire only strengthened. He opened his eyes, everything too real. He had wanted Savannah. He had touched his lips to hers and tasted the sweetest of promises. He threw back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He shook his head. “Hell.” He laughed again, this time at himself as the need clutched him.

Savannah made it as far as the second stair before she gripped the rail to steady herself. Still, sensation overwhelmed her. Every boundary she’d ever crafted seemed to have dissolved, leaving her vulnerable. It’d been the surprise, the shock, that’s all, she told herself. Nothing more, nothing more. Still the urgency rose.

She watched him come down the stairs twenty-five minutes later. “You forgot to shave,” she noted.

He smiled at her. “I didn’t forget.”

“I hope you at least brushed your teeth.” She turned to the door.

“Why? You gonna kiss me again?”

She spun around, angry with him, even more furious with the desire spiked by the mere suggestion. “You kissed me.”

“You kissed me back.”

“A gentleman wouldn’t—”

“Now you’re flattering me, Savannah-Banana.”

She forced her expression bland. She didn’t have to tell him how much she hated nicknames. She had the feeling he already knew.

“We keep going the way we are—” he still smiled “—and soon we’ll have a whole repertoire of anecdotes to share at family functions.”

Her hand sliced the air, dismissing him and his efforts to infuriate her. She yanked open the door. “Let’s go. I don’t want to be late.”

“Why?” He tripped down the porch stairs, easily catching up to her. “They’ll force us to wear pink cummerbunds?”

“Actually, they’re peach.” Savannah pulled open the car door.

Cash stopped dead, such a look of alarm on his face, Savannah would have smiled had it been anyone else.

“You’re kidding?”

She looked at him, confused. “They match the bow tie.”

She slid into the driver’s seat, enjoying a smile until Cash slid in beside her.

“You are kidding,” he decided.

She glanced at him, her expression betraying nothing. “Buckle up.” She put the car into gear and headed for the interstate.

“Stop.” He pointed to a mini-mart as they came to an intersection “I need caffeine.”

“There’s no time.”

“Come on.” He elbowed her in the side as if they were old school chums. “A man can’t live on love alone.”

She had an urge to rev the engine and shoot past the convenience store, but she always drove at the speed limit.

He leaned back against the seat, stretched his arms, reducing the space even further within the car. “If you’re in such an all-fired hurry to get downtown, why are you driving so slow?”

“I’m driving at the posted speed limit.” She snapped on her blinker, eased into another lane.

“Follow all the rules, don’t you, Slick?”

“That’s what they were made for, Walker.”

“Maybe, but it’s more fun to break them.”

“There’s more to life than fun.”

“Is that what you want on your tombstone?”

She decided to ignore him. In reality, she was too aware of him—his size, the movement of muscles as he shifted in his seat. The omnipresent heat, seductive as a southwest wind. Heat that she’d told herself she’d only imagined, until this morning when she’d felt it with her own body.

Fortunately they weren’t far from the heart of downtown now, having left behind the old-money estates and new-money monster mansions. Mr. Max’s was north of the city’s center among the upscale department stores and towering hotels and office high-rises. Cash groaned as they passed an advertisement for Fresh Mountain Roast Coffee.

He slumped against the seat. “All I can say is the bridesmaids better be gorgeous—each and every one of them.”

Savannah thought of her sister. Cash would be pleased. “I’m assuming then, you’re not bringing someone to the wedding?”

“Why? Do you need a date?”

Patience, Savannah, patience. “You just seemed rather fond of this Angeline person—”

“Angeline?”

The unexpected steel in his voice drew her gaze. His expression was even harder.

“That’s the name you called me when you accosted me in your bedroom. I assumed—”

“Honey, I’ve done a lot of things in a bedroom but accosting has never been one of them.”

As usual, his recovery was swift. Jaw set, she focused her attention on the traffic.

“You’re thinking you don’t like me again, aren’t you, Slick?”

Her jaw muscles locked.

“Angeline was the woman I left at the altar seven years ago.”

She swung her head to him. He was watching the passing buildings, the streets busy with people. “I’m sorry.”

He angled his head to look at her.

“Really, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I mean I knew what happened but, but—” She was actually stammering.

“The story isn’t exactly the type of fare that lends itself to amusing anecdotes at family reunions, is it?”

His barbs were rendered null and void by the pain etched in his expression.

“Why’d you do it?” Her words came without thought. Blame it on her current situation. Blame it on the loneliness she sensed beneath his laughter. She needed to know.

He shook his head. “She knew it was over. I had told her that morning.”

“Maybe she didn’t believe you?”

His words were certain. “She believed me.”

Savannah sensed he would say no more. She tried to fill in the blanks. “You were scared?” She felt her own fear, refused to let it take hold.

“Not at all. I wasn’t scared of anything back then. I was gaga about her.” He winked at her. She had to smile, her own fear falling away.

“Wild about her, absolutely wild. Followed her around hot as a three-dollar pistol.” His smile was rueful as he looked out the windshield at nothing and remembered. “It ended badly, but boy, in the beginning…it was something.”

Savannah could only nod dumbly while a faceless, nameless need rose inside her as if she were twelve again, dreaming of her first kiss. She wanted to ask more, know everything, but Cash turned to the window, his face lifting toward the bronze sunlight. “I hate this damn city,” he said.

She returned her attention to the road, started to search for parking. “They always have coffee for the customers at Mr. Max’s. Mr. Max insists it be brewed fresh on the hour, every hour. The beans are hand-ground.” It was all she could offer him at that moment.

She felt a warm gratification when she heard his chuckle.

They were ten minutes late for the fitting but no one minded except Savannah, and even she had ceased to care at that point. Cash immediately christened the owner Max the Madman and after two cups of black coffee with what Savannah thought was an excessive amount of sugar, he charmed the rest of the store’s personnel. Savannah watched him, wondering if anyone, even those who knew better, walked away from him untouched?

When he stepped from the dressing room, in classic black that instead of refining him only made his raw maleness more lethal, the assistants oohed and aahed, and even Savannah had to swallow hard twice. But when Mr. Max turned to her to second his opinion of Cash as “the most handsome best man to ever set foot in Mr. Max’s Formal Wear,” Savannah merely looked at Cash and in a bored tone, asked, “You will shave for the wedding, won’t you?”