by Gina Wilkins
"Later is fine," Clay said cheerfully. "Just let me know when you're ready."
"Clay, stop manhandling my sister and behave yourself," Summer scolded, interceding with a light laugh. She reached to firmly pull Spring's hand out of Clay's grasp. "Ignore him, Spring. The rest of us do."
It sounded like good advice, but Spring had a feeling that Clay McEntire was going to be hard to ignore. He was still standing so close to her that she could almost feel the heat radiating from his very nice body. She tried hard to convince herself that he was not igniting an answering flame in her.
Then she was introduced to Joel, who turned out to be Connie's fiancé, and she was relieved when he seemed perfectly normal. Thank goodness he wasn't another screwball like Clay!
"It's very nice to meet you, Spring," Joel greeted her in his pleasantly soft voice. "Everyone was disappointed when you couldn't come to California with the rest of your family for the wedding."
"Not half as disappointed as I was," Spring answered truthfully. Summer and Derek had graciously offered to postpone the wedding when Spring had become ill, but she had refused to allow it. She had no intention of ever letting anyone know that she'd cried herself to sleep on the night of the wedding, lying in her Little Rock apartment, lonely, feverish and ill.
Summer giggled. "I'm sorry," she told her sister, no regret evident in her voice. "I shouldn't laugh at you for being sick—but chicken pox! At your age!"
Spring sighed in resignation. She had expected this. "I knew you found the whole thing hysterically funny— that I missed catching chicken pox in school when you and Autumn had them, then caught them from one of my patients at the age of twenty-six. I'm sure you were sorry that I couldn't come to your wedding, but don't tell me you didn't have a laugh at my expense."
"We all know that your sister has a rather warped sense of humor," Derek murmured straight-faced, his eyes gleaming at his adored wife.
"Definitely warped," Spring agreed in amusement. She had liked her brother-in-law from the moment she'd met him at the airport. She knew now that she was going to love him like the big brother she'd always wanted.
"So, Summer, what's for dinner?" Connie asked brightly.
Summer looked at Connie with a teasingly lifted eyebrow. "Funny, I don't remember asking you to dinner."
"Oh, let her and Joel stay, Summer," Clay urged. "There's always room for two more."
"I didn't invite you, either," she returned without hesitation.
"Three more, then," he amended with his best toothpaste-ad smile. "You wouldn't deny us the opportunity to get to know your beautiful sister, would you?"
Deny him, deny him, Spring silently begged.
Summer looked straight into her sister's eyes, quite obviously read her thoughts and laughed. "Okay, you can stay," she told Clay, winking impudently at Spring. "It'll give Spring something to write in her diary."
Clay slipped an arm around Spring's stiff shoulders. "I'm very good at providing diary material," he murmured into her ear.
"I'm sure you are," Spring replied, adroitly sidestepping his loose embrace. "But I prefer to fill my diary with nonfiction."
With one of his rare grins creasing his lean cheeks Derek punched Clay lightly on the shoulder. "You may have just met your match, my man."
Clay smiled at Spring in a way that melted her lower vertebrae. "You know, Derek, you just might be right," he answered.
* * *
"Oh, Spring, it's so good to see you." Summer hugged her sister hard, then returned to the lettuce she was shredding for a salad. "It seems like so long since we've been together."
Neatly slicing a plump tomato, Spring smiled somewhat sadly, thinking of how little time she was able to spend with her sisters now that they were all grown and could really enjoy being together. "It has been a long time. I've missed you."
"Me, too. Of course, the telephone company loves me."
Spring laughed. "We should both own stock by now. Every month I pay for calls to you in California, to Autumn in Florida and to Mom and Dad in Rose Bud. The phone bill's almost as high as my rent."
"Derek's never complained about ours, but he always takes a deep breath before he opens the envelope."
"I like him, Summer."
Summer glowed. "I'm glad. I knew you would. The two of you have a lot in common, actually. I told him that the day after I met him."
"Did you?" Spring cut the last tomato and reached for a cucumber. "I loved the letters you sent me about your, um, unusual courtship. Swept you right off your feet, didn't he?"
"I'll say," Summer agreed with a laugh. "He told me he loved me exactly one week and two days after we met. Scared me witless."
"Why?"
"I thought it was infatuation, that he'd change his mind after getting to know me better. I was already so crazy about him by then that I knew I'd be destroyed if he left. Thank God he was able to convince me that what he felt was real."
Spring sighed wistfully. "I envy you, Summer. You and Derek look so happy. So do Connie and Joel."
Summer turned and leaned back against the counter, studying her sister's face. "So what happened between you and Roger? All I know is that you were seeing him steadily for several months and then you stopped."
Spring tried to look as if she were concentrating on the cucumber in front of her. "Nothing really happened," she replied vaguely. "It just didn't work out."
"Funny, that's exactly the same thing you said when you broke up with James and then Gary."
"So what can I say?" Spring asked lightly. "None of them worked out. I guess I'm just not cut out for permanence in my relationships."
"Don't give me that. You wouldn't envy Connie and me so much if you didn't want the same thing for yourself. I've always thought you were the type who wanted marriage and children as well as your career."
"I do," Spring confessed. "Very much. But every time I start thinking of permanence with any of the men I've dated, I begin to back out of the relationship. I must be more attached to my single state than I realize."
"Or maybe you prefer your single state over marriage to any of the men you've dated," Summer countered. "I never met Roger, but if he was anything like James and Gary, we're talking b-o-r-i-n-g."
"They weren't— Well, maybe they were a little boring, but they were all fine, respectable men."
"So maybe you don't want a fine, respectable man. Maybe what you need is a bit of a scoundrel."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Who's being ridiculous?" Summer demanded. "This is your sister you're talking to, Spring Deborah Reed. I know who your heroes were when you were growing up. You drooled over old Clark Gable films, you kept a poster of Burt Reynolds taped to your closet door and M*A*S*H was your all-time favorite television program because Hawkeye Pierce made you break out in a sweat. More recently you've had a not-so-secret crush on Harrison Ford. These are not fine, respectable men, Sis. They're scoundrels."
"All very well for fantasy, but not for real life. Look at me, Summer. I'm an average, unexciting optometrist who is perfectly content to live her entire life in Little Rock, Arkansas. I'm not exactly Carole Lombard, who wouldn't have been happy with anything but a scoundrel, as you put it."
"I am looking at you," Summer replied seriously. "I see a beautiful blonde who's always had to be the responsible big sister, the pride and joy of the Reed family, the only one in several generations to finish college and go on to graduate work. The only one ever to earn the title Doctor."
"A term of respect. I'm not an M.D."
"But you're a damned good optometrist. You've told me so many times," Summer added with a smile. "You're also bored. Admit it."
Spring abandoned the cucumber. "Okay," she conceded, turning to face her sister. "Sometimes I get a little bored. Not with my work—I love that. But my personal life is not exactly scintillating. If I kept a diary, it would look very little different than my appointment calendar at the office. Not just nonfiction but noninteresting."
&
nbsp; "So what are you going to do about it?"
"I have no idea. What would you suggest?"
"Fall madly in love, get married and have a houseful of kids," Summer suggested promptly.
"Sounds lovely, but since I'm not even dating anyone at this time, it's a bit impractical."
"Okay, so have an affair. A crazy, no-strings-attached, passionate affair. Clay's already volunteered, as a matter of fact."
Spring flushed vividly. "You discussed this with that...with Clay?"
"Only a little," Summer answered with mock innocence. "He thought my idea was brilliant."
"Someday, Summer Linda Reed, I am going to kill you. Slowly," Spring added, pushing irritably at her glasses, which were beginning to slide down her nose. "Besides, if I were going to have an affair—which I'm not—it certainly wouldn't be with Clay."
"What's wrong with Clay?"
"My God, Summer, how can you even ask? The way he's dressed, the way he acts—definitely not my type."
"Do you always judge people by appearances, Spring? When are you going to learn that a three-piece suit and a tie don't make a man? Clay's a wonderful, caring person. He loves to laugh and tease—as he did with you—and he's warm and very demonstrative in his affections. He's always got his arm around someone. As a matter of fact, Derek threatened to break that arm a few times before he realized that Clay wasn't getting too cozy with me. It's a shame there aren't more men who are as comfortable with their feelings and emotions as Clay. Yes, he dresses a bit oddly, but even that is due to his lively sense of humor. He likes making people smile."
It wasn't the first time that Spring had been chastised by her younger sister for her conservative nature—or made to feel vaguely guilty about those circumspect tendencies. "He's just not my type," she reiterated somewhat gruffly. "That man is strange, Summer."
"True," Summer agreed gravely. "But he's certainly not boring."
No, Spring didn't think Clay McEntire would ever be called boring. A lot of other things, maybe, but never boring.
"There's the doorbell," Summer said unnecessarily, sparing Spring the need to comment further on Clay McEntire. "Our pizzas are here. Connie should have the table set by now, so would you give me a hand with the salad stuff?"
"Sure." Spring turned and gathered an armful of forks and salad bowls, then found herself taking a deep breath for courage before joining the others in the dining room. She had to ask herself why she felt that she needed courage. She didn't have to answer herself, though, because the first person she saw when she entered the room was Clay. And he looked even better now than he had before, if that was possible. Damn.
Chapter Two
The dinner was certainly...interesting, Spring thought some time later. She hadn't heard such snappy repartee since the last Neil Simon movie she'd seen. Summer, of course, was a compulsive cutup, and Connie was just like her. With their dry wit and subtle humor Derek and Joel made perfect counterpoints to their irrepressible mates. And Clay.
Clay. Spring wasn't sure exactly how she felt about Clay. She was definitely attracted to him; there was no question about that. And she thought that perhaps he was as attracted to her. He was funny, he was charming, he was exciting. Maybe Summer was right about Spring having a weakness for scoundrels. Of course, she also dearly loved strawberry shortcake, but she knew better than to indulge. She was allergic to strawberries.
The frivolity continued after dinner, when everyone moved to the den for a game of Trivial Pursuit. Spring found herself partnered with Clay, which gave him an excuse to sit close beside her on a cozy love seat. She tried very hard to pay attention to the game, but how could she concentrate on History or Art and Literature when there was such a gorgeous male draping himself all over her? She was, after all, only human.
When she found herself mentally counting the number of times his enticingly close chest rose and fell with his breathing, she knew she needed a few moments alone to get control of herself. Summer called an intermission so that she could make coffee and slice a chocolate cake, and Spring took advantage of the opportunity to slip down the hallway to the guest room, where Derek had carried her bags.
There she plopped down on the edge of the bed, not even noticing the lovely decor of the tastefully frilly room as she wondered what on earth was wrong with her. It was almost as if in leaving Little Rock she'd left behind the rigid code of responsible behavior that she'd lived by for as long as she could remember. She wasn't normally attracted to offbeat, probably shallow men such as Clay McEntire. In Little Rock she wouldn't have looked twice at such a man. Well, she amended, she might have looked. More than twice. But would she have found him so utterly fascinating?
She found herself wondering if he really had volunteered to have a passionate affair with her. Would he be as unpredictable in bed as he was out of it? She suspected that he would be imaginative, sensitive, considerate, and just downright good.
"Oh, my God, what am I doing?" she groaned, shaking her head to dispel any such thoughts. "I just met the man, for pete's sake." She had never indulged in casual, recreational sex, nor was she about to begin now. "I'm not," she repeated out loud for emphasis.
She stood and glared determinedly into the mirror on one wall of the bedroom. She looked the same as usual. Hair still properly pinned on top of her head, white silk blouse neatly tucked into the waistband of the straight heather-pink skirt that matched the jacket she'd discarded earlier. She hadn't changed at all since arriving in California. Nor would she.
"Right," she said, nodding crisply at her reflection. Then she stepped out of the door of her bedroom and straight into the arms of Clay McEntire.
"Sorry," he murmured, though he didn't look at all sorry to find himself standing in the hallway with his arms around her. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she replied. Dammit, her voice had gone all breathless again, she noticed in disgust. "What are you doing?" Was he following her?
His lovely blue-green eyes twinkled with mischievous amusement as he nodded toward the door beside her bedroom. "That's the bathroom," he replied. "I had planned on visiting it. Okay with you?"
She flushed, trying to disengage herself from the strong arms that had tightened around her slim waist. "You certainly don't need my permission."
"For anything?"
"Of course not," she answered curtly, squirming against him. The movement made her want to groan with the pleasure-pain it caused her.
"Oh, in that case—" He smothered his own words against her mouth as he leaned her back against the wall and kissed her with painstaking thoroughness.
Had it been possible, Spring would have gulped. As it was, she went rigid with surprise. Much later she would try to convince herself that she'd parted her lips only to protest his impertinence. But whatever the reason, her action gave him the perfect opportunity to deepen the kiss—and he did.
Her fists clenched his shoulders when his tongue swept the inside of her mouth, exploring and claiming it. At the same time his hands began an exploration of their own, sweeping from her shoulders to her hips in long, arousing strokes. Spring moaned low in her chest, her eyes closing behind the glasses that were pressed crookedly between their faces. When she found herself wishing the glasses were out of the way so that the kiss could continue more comfortably, she opened her eyes wide and renewed her struggle to free herself. She twisted her head so that the kiss was broken and shoved against him with all her strength. "What are you doing?"
He chuckled shakily, though he allowed her to put several inches between them. "This time I think the answer is obvious, sweet Spring. I'm trying to seduce you."
"You—" She stopped to swallow. "Oh."
He laughed. "Yes, oh. You're enchanting, did you know that? May I kiss you again, or do you still insist that I don't need your permission?"
"No! I mean, no, you can't kiss me again. Clay, I don't even know you!"
"That situation can easily be changed," he murmured meaningfully, lifting a hand to trace her
slightly swollen lower lip.
"No." She shook her head emphatically. "I'm only going to be here for twelve days, Clay."
"That's plenty of time," he replied, unperturbed, his fingers stroking her cheek.
"Look, I know things are...different in California, but I'm from Arkansas and I don't, well, to be blunt, I don't sleep with just anyone I happen to find attractive. So whatever Summer may have told you, I'm not interested in a vacation affair."
"Okay, so seduction is out," Clay replied cheerfully. A little too cheerfully, Spring thought with illogical resentment. Couldn't he at least have made a token protest? "How about friendship?" he continued. "Are you interested in making a new friend on your vacation, sweet Spring?"
"It is possible that we could be friends," Spring agreed cautiously. "But only on one condition."
"What's that?" he inquired, his fingers moving to the vulnerable spot just behind her ear.
"Stop calling me 'sweet Spring.'"
Clay laughed. "Fair enough." He kissed her cheek, briefly, barely touching her, then moved away. "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll visit that room next door."
He paused at the doorway of the bathroom. "Oh, and, Spring?"
"Yes?"
"I don't sleep with just anyone, either. I don't happen to think Arkansans and Californians are all that different." He shut the door behind him as he entered the bathroom, leaving her standing in the hallway with her mouth open.
Moments later Spring stood once again before the mirror in her bedroom. Only this time the woman who stared back at her looked slightly different. Her neat knot of hair had loosened, allowing more tendrils to fall around her flushed face, her glasses were crooked and the white silk blouse was only halfway tucked into her skirt. Her sister had been right about one thing, she thought as she tried to straighten her appearance. Clay certainly was a toucher!
Summer had been right about something else, she added to herself in wary bemusement.