Dixie Virgin Chronicles: Clementine (Book 5)

by Webb, Peggy

  Clemmie stepped back. He saw the sudden widening of her eyes, the slight flaring of her nostrils. The reaction was extreme. For the first time since he’d met her, he decided her innocence wasn’t an act. But even so, he couldn’t afford to let down his guard.

  “Do I frighten you, Clemmie?”

  She tilted her chin at a proud angle. “Of course not.”

  He thought she was a lousy liar, but he decided not to pursue the reasons for her fear. He’d found out long ago that caring too deeply opened the door to heartache.

  “Good. Then you won’t mind if I go along grocery shopping with you.”

  “Grocery shopping won’t interest you.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’ve never known a man who was interested in cabbages.”

  “It’s not the cabbages that interest me; it’s the company.”

  “I always shop alone.”

  “Not today.” He picked up her purse and tucked it into her hand. “Today you’re going to have a companion.” Something about the look in those wide green eyes softened him. “Don’t worry, Clemmie. I won’t bite you. At least, not today.”

  “Well...”

  “You can point out the sights to me as we drive along. This is my first visit to your part of the country, you know.” He could see her weakening. He pressed his advantage. “You would be doing me a big favor.”

  “I suppose it will be all right.”

  She glanced up at him. He looked as innocent as it was possible for a handsome celebrity to look. And he was new in town, she reasoned. What could happen in a car?

  Chapter Three

  What happened in the car was as safe as sitting in a Sunday school class, but far more stimulating. That was Clemmie’s conclusion as she drove down River Hill Road to the grocery store. She was glad she hadn’t let that silly article in Secrets of the Rich and Famous scare her out of taking Michael Forrest on an innocent drive.

  They were talking about movie-making.

  “I’ll bring my production crew here, probably sometime in the next couple of weeks. I’ll get permission from one of the local landowners to set up camp in some of these beautiful wooded areas.”

  “How many people will that be?”

  “About seventy-five, not including the actors.”

  “It’s a pity Brady Boarding House doesn’t have room for all of you. I could use the money.”

  One of Michael’s cardinal rules was to never become personally involved in the private matters of the women he pursued. He never inquired about their businesses, their politics, or their families. He was equally silent about his own private affairs. Music, art, sports, current events, theater were the safe topics of conversation he habitually chose.

  With Clemmie, though, it was different. He’d already broken the rules with her. Now, as he looked at her lovely profile he realized he was going to break the rules again. He didn’t know why. It probably had something to do with this town. Everything seemed unreal here, as if he’d stepped back fifty years into a time of genteel ways and unsophisticated concerns. He’d noticed when he’d stepped into Tupelo’s small terminal that people never looked at their watches. No one seemed to be in a hurry to go anywhere. And the speech, he mused. Hearing the soft Southern drawl was like floating on a sea of honey.

  He looked at Clemmie and smiled. He’d been doing a lot of that lately. In fact, he’d been doing that since he’d seen her standing in the doorway of Brady’s Boarding House.

  “Why do you need the money, Clementine?”

  “I don’t usually talk about things like that with strangers.”

  “I thought we agreed to be friends.”

  “That was before.”

  “Before what?”

  “Before I read about you in Secrets of the Rich and Famous.”

  She stared straight ahead, concentrating with unnecessary intensity on the road. He was amused. Most women would have been plying him with questions. Not that he would have answered them. He never bothered to defend himself against bad publicity.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me if it’s true?”

  “I was going to be a journalist—before Mother and Daddy were killed. There has to be some basis for a story like that.”

  “You’re a brave woman, Clemmie.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You never know what a man with my wicked reputation will do next.” He reached over and touched her cheek. He’d been wanting to touch her since he stepped into the car. With the sunlight pouring through the car windows, her skin was the shade of a ripe peach. He also wanted to taste it, but he refrained. No need to play with fire.

  He felt her stiffen, but she didn’t jerk away. He figured she was too conscientious to risk that while she was driving. He let his fingers play over the soft skin.

  “Your complexion is going to be the envy of every actress who comes here. They pay makeup artists a fortune to try to achieve this look.”

  “Do they succeed?”

  Chuckling at her honest vanity, he removed his hands. “No. Nature generally outdoes man’s puny efforts.” His gaze swung from Clemmie to the tress alongside the road; they were brilliant in October colors that wardrobe mistresses only dream of copying.

  Clemmie glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s one of the reasons I stay in Peppertown. I probably could make more money working in a large city, but I love the land. And I love my rambling gingerbread house. So do my brothers. After Mother and Daddy were killed, the only way to keep the house was to come back and live in it. I didn’t want to let it go, and I couldn’t afford two residences. Besides, David and Daniel needed stability.”

  “You sacrificed a career out of love for the land and love for your brothers?”

  Her eyes were shining as she glanced briefly in his direction. “I don’t consider it a sacrifice. I made a choice, and I’ve never been sorry.”

  Michael couldn’t remember when he’d seen such goodness in a person. He felt as if he were in the company of an angel. If the feeling had persisted, he would have been uncomfortable with what he was doing. But he had no intention of becoming a reformed rake. Men with scruples got hurt. He saved himself by giving Clemmie a thorough perusal. What he saw was all woman—that smoky hair, so black it was almost blue, those exotic eyes, that kissable vamp’s mouth. He was an expert at guessing what kind of body was under a woman’s clothes. No angel had ever had curves like Clemmie.

  He leaned back against the seat, satisfied.

  “This morning you said your life was unexciting.”

  “Peaceful is a better word. And I’m still not sorry.”

  He reached across the back of the seat and gently placed his hand on the back of her neck. He felt her muscles tense, but she kept her eyes on the road.

  “Relax, Clemmie. I told you that I won’t bite you.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m touching you.” He let his hand ease slowly up her neck and the back of her head, sifting the blue-black hair between his open fingers. “How long since a man has touched you?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  He kept his hand in her silky hair. “No. It’s none of my business. My only business is to make you want my touch.”

  “Then you’ll be waiting till Gabriel blows his horn. I don’t care for philandering men.”

  He chuckled. “You like your heroes to be unblemished?”

  “Yes.”

  “A model of virtue?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “How far would you go?”

  “Is that a come on or a question?”

  Unexpectedly, he laughed, and she didn’t know whether she was flushed from heat or embarrassment or the altogether disturbing man in her car.

  “You’re a dangerous woman, Clemmie.” He slid his hand up the back of her neck, underneath her hair, and began a massage that was as dan
gerous as it was wonderful.

  She regretted letting him get into her car. It was not so much that he scared and outraged her, although, Lord knows, she’d never met a man his equal in boldness. What bothered her most that she liked it.

  As his fingers pressed into her flesh, she let her imagination roam. She was lying on a beach somewhere. Hawaii, she decided. She’d always wanted to go there. Michael was stretched out beside her, the sun gilding his golden skin. His hands were on her, stroking her face. They moved downward, toward her breasts. His hands were hot and bold as they moved over her.

  She felt her breathing start to become raspy. But she was no longer on the beach in Hawaii; she was in her car in Peppertown.

  While she always chose sensible cotton bikinis, Clemmie indulged herself with bras. The one she was wearing today was a mere wisp of sheer nylon. It did nothing to disguise her state of excitement. And Michael Forrest saw exactly what was happening. She could tell by the way his eyes lit up.

  She stared straight ahead, trying to get herself back under control.

  “It’s unusually hot for October,” she said.

  “Indeed?” He quirked an eyebrow upward.

  “Yes. We call it Indian summer.”

  “I call it lust.”

  “What?”

  His fingers pressed against her neck. “Lust, Clemmie. It makes people hot.”

  The headline in Secrets Of The Rich And Famous blazed through her mind.

  “Remove your hand.”

  “You don’t like being touched?”

  “No.”

  “Your body says yes.”

  “You shouldn’t believe everything you see.”

  Chuckling, he took his hand away. “I agree.”

  “You do?” She was vaguely disappointed.

  “Yes. I’m a master at inventing reality, but I never make the mistake of believing my own creations. In the movies, Clemmie, seeing is not believing—but seeing is certainly entertaining.” His bold glance raked over her.

  She concentrated on the road.

  “Good grief!” She swerved the car wildly to the left. Michael grabbed her with one hand and the steering wheel with the other.

  “Don’t,” Michael said, but it was too late. The car was already careening off the road.

  They jarred against each other as the ancient Buick settled into a shallow ditch. Michael cupped Clemmie’s face.

  “Are you all right?”

  She took a deep shaky breath. “Yes. Are you?”

  He figured he’d have a bruise where his knee banged the dashboard, but that didn’t count. He smiled at her. “Never better.”

  He was draped all over her, so close she could see tiny amber sunbursts in the center of his golden eyes. He smelled masculine and intensely sexy, a subtle blend of sea breezes and spice. She took a deep breath and let his scent wash over her. “I’m glad,” she whispered. “I wouldn’t want to hurt you, even if you are the most aggressive man I’ve ever met.”

  “You’re sweet, Clemmie.” His fingers gently caressed her peach-down cheeks. “Don’t be too sweet to me.”

  She knew there were things she should be doing—getting the car out of the ditch and getting herself out of his clutches, but she was reluctant to move. Sitting there in the stranded vehicle with the sunshine pouring through the window and Michael’s hands on her face seemed to be the right thing to do. At least for the moment—until she could get her thinking straight.

  “Why, Michael?”

  “Because I’m no gentleman. I don’t respond to sweetness.”

  Clemmie thought she saw a certain sadness in his face, and she wondered if anybody in Michael’s life had ever been sweet to him, and gentle and kind and understanding. She wanted to cuddle him and take him home and nurture him, just as she would a stray puppy.

  Still cupping her face, he bent over and gently brushed her cheeks with his lips. “If we stay in this car any longer, I’ll be forced to demonstrate just how unscrupulous I am.” He released her and moved back across the seat. “Unfortunately my style would be cramped by these close quarters, and I’ve promised not to seduce you today. I suggest we get out and figure a way out of our dilemma.”

  Clemmie’s visions of a stray puppy vanished. Instead she looked across the car seat into the face of a lion, and a hungry one, at that.

  “That’s a relief.”

  “That I’ll help you?”

  “No. That you won’t seduce me.”

  He chuckled. “Clementine Brady, how can I seduce you when you keep making me like you?”

  “I didn’t know seduction and liking were mutually exclusive.”

  “To me they are.”

  They both got out of the car. Michael propped his arms on the top and looked across at her. “How did we get into this ditch?”

  “A cat.”

  “You swerved for a cat?”

  “Of course.”

  “I didn’t see it.”

  “No. You were too busy looking at me.”

  “A blunt woman. I like that.”

  “Are we going to stand here all day or are we going to get the car out of the ditch?”

  “Also a practical woman. I like that, too.”

  He strolled around the car, assessing the situation.

  Clemmie watched him. For years she’d had no one to depend on except herself. It was nice to have a man around for a change, especially a man like Michael, who looked as if he could run straight into an army of invading Martians and take charge.

  The ditch was shallow, and Michael was strong. They got the car back on the road in a very short while.

  Clemmie was both relieved and disappointed that Michael behaved for the rest of the drive. He even helped her with the grocery shopping. Buying cabbages had never been as much fun. As it turned out, Michael Forrest knew quite a bit about food and nutrition. They laughed and joked together with the ease of long-time friends as he gave her advice and shared some of his recipes.

  But he swore her to secrecy.

  “My reputation would be in ruins if word got out that I’m dispensing recipes instead of kisses.”

  “My lips are sealed.”

  He looked at her lips and thought how delicious they would taste. Standing in the frozen food section of the grocery store, he longed to seal her lips in another way—with his. With any other woman, he would have. But he instinctively knew that Clemmie would be embarrassed if he made a scene in a public place. The strange thing to him was that he cared. This innocent woman with the trusting eyes had touched some calloused place in his soul, and he was beginning to soften.

  Careful, Michael, he told himself. The next thing you know you’ll be developing scruples. His grip tightened on the grocery cart. The best thing he could do would be to get out of the grocery store and out of her sight before he made a complete fool of himself.

  “Let’s check out the yogurt, Clemmie. I know a great recipe for yogurt cooler.”

  He took hold of the grocery cart and pushed it down the aisle, the picture of innocence and good manners.

  o0o

  When they returned to the Brady Boarding House, he helped her unload the groceries.

  “As much as I’d love to spend the rest of the day promoting my cause, I have to leave you, Clementine. Unfortunately movies don’t make themselves.” He bent down and gave her a tender kiss on the cheek. “ ‘Parting is such sweet sorrow.’“

  “That’s my line, Romeo.” She loved the way his eyes lit up.

  “ ‘Sleep dwell upon thine eyes,’ “ he quoted softly, “ ‘peace in thy breast. Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest.’ “

  Without another word, he was gone.

  She went to the front door and watched until his rental car was out of sight.

  “Michael Forrest, I do believe you’re a fraud.” Unconsciously she caressed the door handle that he’d so recently touched. “You’re a lovable tabby cat masquerading as a ferocious lion.”

  The idea pleased her e
normously. She began thinking once more about the church social. She would probably invite him after all.

  Clemmie was too busy to think about her latest boarder for the rest of the day. She ate her lunch; she planned breakfast menus for next week; she emailed her brothers; she took Miss Josephine Tobias to the dentist. That proved to be an all afternoon affair.

  It was almost dark when they got back. She noticed that Michael’s car was still gone.

  After she had helped Miss Josephine up the stairs, she went to her room and powered up her laptop.

  From: Clementine

  To: Molly, Janet, Bea, Joanna, Catherine, Belinda

  Re: Michael Forrest

  There was some gossip about my latest boarder in one of those papers that specializes in scandal, but I don’t believe it. At least, not all of it. Certainly not that he would deny his own child! There’s something vulnerable about Michael Forrest. And he has a kind of magic that makes this house come alive. Shoot, he makes me come alive. He makes no bones about who he is: a master of inventing reality. He scares me a little bit, but still I’ve decided that getting caught up in a Michael Forrest fantasy is just what I need. Am I doing the right thing?

  Clemmie

  From: Belinda

  To: Clemmie, Janet, Joanna, Catherine, Bea, Molly

  Re: Fantasy

  Of course, you are! Go for it, Clemmie! You’ve got a great head on your shoulders, and you’re always dishing out sensible advice when the rest of us need it. For once in your life, ditch sensible and be wild and crazy!

  Oh, for goodness sake. Betsy ate too many French fries at the Disney park and just threw up all over her shoes. Poor little tyke. I’ve got to run and help Reeve deal with it.

  Belinda

  From: Janet

  To: Clemmie, Bea, Belinda, Joanna, Catherine, Molly

  Re: Background check

  Clemmie, are we talking paternity lawsuit? Vulnerable, my ass! Do a background check on this man, and don’t you dare get involved in one of his fantasies!! As soon as this conference is over, I’m going to drive over and check him out myself!

  Janet

  From: Bea