Shadows of Yesterday

by Sandra Brown

  The doorbell pealed loudly and Leigh bolted off the couch. Curbing the impulse to dash to the door, she took three deep breaths and walked at a more sedate pace to open it. Chad was standing with his arms spread, bracing himself against the doorjamb. Without moving anything but his head, he leaned down and captured her mouth.

  For a moment she entertained the thought of resisting him, of demanding to know why he was an hour late, of reminding him that she wasn’t going to invite him to spend the night, but the power of his kiss banished such intentions from her muddled brain. His arms were lowered from the door frame slowly to enclose her in a tight embrace. Her feet instinctively scooted closer to his until they were touching chest-to-knees in one continuous, provocative line.

  “I’m sorry I’m late. It couldn’t be helped. I promise,” he whispered seductively.

  “I understand,” she heard herself saying. His kiss had reduced her to jelly. His hands were on either side of her face, stroking her lips with alternating thumbs.

  “I like that… that… whatever that is you’ve got on.”

  “I bought it today.” She had seen the long, embroidered caftan in a boutique window and had bought it immediately. It was just what she needed for quiet evenings at home… with Chad. Oh, stop it, stop it! She rebuked herself.

  “I brought you a present.”

  “You brought me a present?” she echoed, her heart racing.

  He reached behind him and picked up two gift-wrapped boxes. “Open the big one first.”

  She took the boxes from him and sat on the sofa while he took off his coat and crouched down in front of her. “Oh, no!” she exclaimed as she pulled the coffeemaker out of its package. “Let me guess what’s in the second box.”

  “Right!” He snapped his fingers. “Three pounds of coffee.” She started laughing. “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing, except you have a present, too. Come into the kitchen.”

  Bemused, he followed her into the kitchen and then joined in her laughter when he saw a coffeemaker identical to the one he had just given her already plugged in on the countertop. Beside it was a can of coffee. “You did do some shopping today, didn’t you?” He took both her hands and held her at arm’s length as he asked, “Does this mean that you plan on making me coffee often?”

  “Does this mean you want me to?” she replied teasingly.

  His answer was to pull her against him with an eagerness that forced the breath out of her body on impact. Urgent fingers tangled in the chestnut mane she had left loose, and he pulled her head back for the full enjoyment of his kiss.

  Her hands cautiously rested on his ribs, touching, caressing, marveling at the hard muscles beneath them. Then they slid around to his back. Palms splayed, she rubbed her hands against the contours on either side of his spine.

  “Oh, Leigh,” he breathed, pushing away from her. “If we start this now, I’ll never get any coffee.”

  Now? Did that mean they would pick up later where they had left off? “And you’ll never get to sample my chocolate cake,” she replied in kind.

  “There are other things I can’t wait to sample, but I guess the cake should come first.”

  First? She made a nervous gesture to straighten her hair. “Why don’t you make the coffee? I’ll watch while I slice the cake.” She had to slow him down—no, slow them both down, she warned herself. Chad was only reacting to the invitation she knew she was communicating to him, despite her scruples, her anxiety.

  He talked her through his foolproof method of making the perfect cup of coffee while she served slices of cake. He drank three cups of coffee while devouring two pieces of the rich chocolate concoction.

  “How do you stay so trim when you eat so much?” Leigh asked him as he gouged a fingerful of icing off the cake.

  “Hard work and good metabolism.”

  “Do you ever work out at a health club? Jog? Play tennis?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Did you play sports in high school and college?”

  “Some.”

  “Chad Dillon, don’t you ever give a straight answer to a question?” she asked, exasperated.

  “Occasionally.”

  “Ohhhh,” she ground out, much to his amusement. He dodged a hand flying in the direction of his head.

  “I can think of better ways to work off frustration—not to mention calories,” he said slyly. He took her hand and dragged her toward the living room.

  “The cake—”

  “Will keep. Besides, I thought you were hinting I’d had enough. But there’s something else I haven’t had enough of. Not nearly enough…”

  He left her standing in the middle of the room as he sat down on the sofa and tugged at his right boot until it came off. “What… what are you doing?” she asked, mesmerized.

  Why was she just standing there? Why wasn’t she demanding to know why he was taking off his boots, why he felt at home enough in her living room to do so, what he thought they were going to do when he got them off? “Why are you taking off your boots?” she asked on a note that was supposed to sound severe and instead sounded huskily obliging.

  “They’re beginning to hurt.”

  “Oh.” So much for outraged virtue.

  The second boot dropped to the carpet with a soft thud. He didn’t say a word but looked up at her and extended his hand. As if following a mystic’s command, she crossed the room toward him, stepping out of her own shoes as she walked.

  He drew her back into the curve between his arm and his shoulder. His hard chest was behind her. He shifted and adjusted until her hips were snuggled firmly between his thighs.

  One gentle fist held up her hair as he kissed the back of her neck. She shivered when the velvet-roughness of his tongue sensitized her earlobe.

  “Chad…” she moaned. She’d never before been kissed in that exact spot and moved her head to a more advantageous angle. “Chad,” she repeated feebly, “what are you doing?”

  “Trying my damnedest to seduce you. I came here with honorable intentions,” his mouth quirked at the quaint phrase, “but they seem to have flown out the window.” His arm encircled her midriff, pulling her closer against him. “I’ve never wanted a woman like I want you,” he told her huskily. “Say you want me too, Leigh. Say it.”

  With the patience he always exhibited, he turned her toward him. Her cheek was held in his palm as he tilted her chin up with his thumb. “My brave, beautiful Leigh. Please let me love you.”

  Leigh felt her reservations sifting through her fingers like so much sand. “Yes,” was all she was granted time to say.

  Then his mouth was fusing with hers, timelessly, precisely, as though they were two integral parts of a whole, celebrating their unity.

  She turned into him more comfortably and, quite naturally, laid her hand on his chest. While his mouth tested the softness of her throat, her fingers loosened the top button of his shirt until she could feel the crisp, curling hair on his chest.

  His fingers trailed her collarbone, found the first tie that held the front of the caftan together, and tugged on it until it fell away. The second tie was treated likewise. Then the third. Leigh held her breath in anticipation and knew a twinge of disappointment when he lifted his head to look at her. Without moving aside the fabric, he pressed his hand over her breast.

  His eyes held her spellbound as he fondled her. “You feel so good,” he whispered. “Full and soft and” She drew her breath in sharply when his thumb skated across the crest. “Oh, Leigh, Leigh, Leigh,” he groaned, and buried his face between the breasts now made bare by his questing hands.

  He kissed the soft flesh, his mouth leaving damp impressions on her skin. The very touch of his rough cheeks against her flesh set her blood singing. Her nipples throbbed with need.

  “Do you want me to?”

  “Yes, please, please.” She could think of nothing but the delicious yearning he evoked in her. A heartbeat later his lips closed over the distended bud.

&n
bsp; He savored her, first with the gentle drawing of his mouth, then with his tongue. It flicked, stroked, circled, nudged. Of their own volition her fingers ruffled through his hair and held him securely against her. The pleasure went on and on until she thought she would die of it. His hand found the hem of the caftan, raised it, stroked her knee. Higher… higher…

  “Chad,” she moaned. His lips blazed over her breasts, her throat, to find her mouth. The kiss was almost savage with reciprocal need.

  He lifted her hand from its random wandering over his chest and moved it down, over the remaining buttons of his shirt, past the brass belt buckle, to press against his driving masculinity.

  He rained fervent kisses on her face, her neck, her naked shoulder. His speech was halting and raspy. “Leigh, feel me. I’m… I don’t want to hurt you. It’s been a while for you… you’ve had a baby. Will I hurt you?”

  “No, no,” she breathed, shaking her head and telling him with a responding pressure of her hand how well she trusted him.

  “Sweet”

  They sprang apart at the telephone’s shrill ring.

  Chad cursed softly under his breath. Leigh unwound her limbs from his and stumbled across the room to the telephone. “Hello.”

  “Dillon there?”

  Chapter Four

  Leigh’s brain, clouded with thwarted passion, tried to focus on what the man on the telephone had said. “Dillon? Chad?”

  “Is he there?”

  “Yes… just a moment.”

  She turned to see Chad standing close behind her. His eyes pinned her to the floor as one secures a butterfly on a cork board. He took the telephone receiver out of her limp hand. “Yeah,” he barked into the instrument. He listened for a moment, his eyes transfixing hers. Then he turned away. “Where?… Bad?…” More muffled curses. “Okay.… Half an hour.”

  He dropped the telephone, lunged toward the couch, and shoved his feet into his boots, working them down into the stiff leather.

  “Chad…?”

  “I’ve got to go, Leigh. I’m sorry. Sorry as hell.”

  “Who was… How did he know… What… Where are you going?”

  “Out on a job.”

  “A job? But… The urgency”

  “Well, it’s sort of an emergency.”

  He was pulling on his coat, not looking at her. “I’m sorry he called me here. I had to leave your number.” He came up to her where she stood trembling, disheveled from their ardent kissing. The ties to her caftan hung loosely. The cloth gaped open. Her arms were wrapped around her middle, hugging herself. She was suddenly frightened. He rested his hands on her shoulders and pulled her toward him. “This is for Sarah.” He kissed her lightly on the cheek. “I didn’t get to see her tonight.”

  “Chad”

  “This is for you.” His arms tightened, drawing her nearer. He kissed her with the tender-roughness she was coming to know. “And this is for me.” A large hand flattened over her hips, lifting her upward and forward. She cushioned his unslaked passion with her abdomen. His tongue swept her mouth hungrily, greedily. Then, like a miser, he meticulously gathered each nuance of it and made it a part of him. He tasted her, memorized her.

  His embrace was encompassing. His hard thighs straddled hers, straining against them. With a grinding motion of his chest, he caressed her breasts. He held her with a finality, a desperation, that alarmed Leigh further.

  As though he had vacuumed the life out of her and taken it into himself, she felt empty when at last he raised his head. His eyes scanned her face, striking each feature like a laser beam.

  Her lips trembled. “Chad…?”

  “I’ll contact you when I can. As soon as I get back. It may be… I don’t know how long it’ll be. But when I can, I’ll be back.”

  The door closed behind him. She heard his running booted footsteps on the sidewalk, the slam of the truck’s door, the chugging of the starting motor, then its roar as he drove away.

  Stunned and shaken, she pivoted, looking at the room as though she’d never seen it before. There was the couch where only moments before Chad had been loving her. It was empty. The room was empty. And so was her heart.

  * * *

  For days Leigh strove to put Chad out of her mind, but he wouldn’t be expelled. He was there, when she worked, when she played with Sarah, when she sat alone in her living room staring at the television set, when she lay alone in her bed, when she slept.

  Was he a doctor? Who else rushed to emergencies and left numbers with answering services where he could be reached? But the person who had telephoned Chad didn’t have the melodious voice of an answering-service operator. The voice had been male, gruff, no nonsense.

  Was Chad a criminal? Had he been warned by his

  God, Leigh, you’re being melodramatic! She rebuked herself. Of course Chad wasn’t a criminal. He was too visible, too well known in the community. She had thought the day he took her to lunch she would learn more about him. After Chad had brought her back to the mall, she had nonchalantly asked questions of her crew, all of whom had seemed to know Chad well. But her questions got her nowhere. The men had become incredibly stupid during their lunch break, pleading that they didn’t know what Chad was up to these days, but remembering fondly how well he had played football.

  Thanksgiving was upon her before she realized it and she was greeting her parents at her door. They had vetoed her suggestion that she and Sarah come to Big Spring for the day.

  “Haven’t you learned your lesson by now?” her mother had demanded. “You had a baby on the side of the road, delivered by a man we know nothing about, who could just as easily have left you, or killed you, or worse.” She shivered.

  Leigh only sighed resignedly and agreed that they should come to her house for the day.

  They brought the turkey and dressing with them. Leigh ate desultorily. “Aren’t you feeling well, honey?” her father asked.

  “Yes,” she said with false brightness. “I’m just hoping those Christmas decorations withstand the season. That’s all.” Liar! She lectured herself. She was thinking about Chad. Where was he having Thanksgiving? Was he having it? Where was he?

  Sarah was fussy throughout the day. By early afternoon Leigh was worn out with rocking and trying to pacify her.

  “She’s probably teething,” Lois Jackson said.

  “She’s too young, Mother.”

  “You had teeth when you were five months old.”

  “Well, maybe so,” Leigh said wearily. She didn’t want to argue with anyone. She only wanted someone to tell her what Chad was doing. “She’s had a touch of diarrhea.”

  “A sure sign. She’s teething.”

  Thankfully her parents left in the early evening. Leigh went to bed as soon as she got the still-fretting Sarah into her crib. “Do you miss him, too?” she asked the sleeping baby.

  Lying wide-eyed in bed despite her fatigue, Leigh stared at the shadows on the ceiling. She knew almost nothing about Chad Dillon. They had shared an experience few people ever do. He had brought her baby into the world, and yet she knew hardly anything about him, his family—

  She sprang upright. Family? Could he be married? Had he lied to her from the beginning or had he gotten married in the time between Sarah’s birth and when he had come to see them? Was that what the telephone call had been about? His wife was on to the tawdry affair he was trying to get started

  No, that telephone call had been an emergency. Emergency. His wife had been in an accident. Chad had said “Where?” “Bad?” That was it. His wife and four children had been in a terrible accident.

  No, no, she groaned, and flopped backward onto the pillow. He wasn’t married. She didn’t know how she knew that, she just knew. There was so much about him that she didn’t know that she wanted to. What was his work? Where did he live? Why had he waited four months to contact her after leaving her in the hospital?

  Invariably her mind reverted to the minutes just before he had gotten that call. To the time
when he was kissing her, touching her, stirring her as no other man had. Guiltily she had had to admit that the emotions and sensations Chad ignited in her were foreign. Greg, much as she had loved him, had never brought her to that pitch of arousal.

  Restlessly she shifted positions beneath the covers. Too well she remembered how his hands had deftly but lovingly untied the fastenings of her caftan, how he had restrained himself from touching her until he was certain it was what she wanted, too. His hands hadn’t been grasping, but pleasure-giving. His mouth was coaxing, thorough, practiced, but intent on bringing her as much pleasure as he derived from their kisses. He hadn’t rushed. He had known her every sensation and had catered to her feelings. He had known other women…

  Was it any wonder that he was so popular with the ladies? From Sarah to old Mrs. Lomax in the restaurant, they all adored him, instinctively knowing that Chad was a man who loved women. His fingertips had been sure, sensual. He knew how to make himself irresistible.

  Leigh moaned, recalling the hot, sweet tugging of his mouth on her nipples, the gentle lashing of his tongue. His virility had been hard, powerful, and now she wanted to be with him, to know his weight atop her, to know that force filling

  God, what was becoming of her? She was a practical, level-headed woman. Look how far she had come. She was surviving widowhood and rearing her infant daughter alone, just as she had sworn to her parents she would do. She wasn’t about to let erotic fantasies about a man she hardly knew dilute her good judgment!

  Repeating that resolution to herself, Leigh tried vainly to sleep.

  * * *

  “Here’s what I propose,” Leigh told the homeowners’ committee. “Each street will have a different motif. One street will have candy canes, one choir boys, one bells, et cetera. A supplier in Dallas has the supplies in stock. The candy canes are strung with red and white lights, the choir boys’ song books are red, and they wear white robes. Do you get the picture?”