Dixie Virgin Chronicles: Clementine (Book 5)

by Webb, Peggy

  Only a thin wall separated them. With need and desire making his blood sing in his ears, he put his hand on the doorknob and turned. Now he’d have her. He had to have her.

  The sound of water in the shower beckoned to him. Then he heard a new sound. Clemmie was singing.

  His hand went limp on the doorknob. He couldn’t do it. Now was not the time. Later, he decided as he crossed the small den and sank onto the sofa. His company would be in Peppertown a few more weeks. Why rush things?

  When Clemmie came out of his shower, fresh-faced and shining, her hair wet and sexy, she was covered from chin to ankle in his green terry-cloth robe. It was then that Michael almost changed his mind. He almost pulled her onto the sofa, tore that robe apart and lost himself in her sweet flesh. A tiny shred of control saved him.

  “Do you feel better now, Clemmie?”

  She smiled. “Yes. Warmer, too.” When she sat in the chair across the room, the robe gapped open. He caught an enticing glimpse of leg. “I didn’t know I was so muddy until I saw it all wash down the shower drain.”

  He kept his eyes on her face, praying that her sweet, trusting smile would redeem him. “Am I the reason you came out in this storm today?”

  “Yes. I was returning the green velvet dress.” Even as she said the words she knew they were only part of the truth. She’d come to see Michael. Looking at him now, slouched comfortably on the awful brown sofa, she felt breathless. That dress had merely been an excuse.

  “I was hoping you’d come because of my irresistible charm.”

  If he had meant his smile to be cocky, he wasn’t fooling her. She saw his vulnerability, the brief flash of hope.

  “You are charming, Michael, and so easy to... like.”

  “Don’t be sweet to me, Clemmie.”

  “You’ve said that before. Why?”

  Outside, thunder boomed and rain battered against the trailer. The weather was as wild as Michael felt. His need for Clemmie was clawing at his gut, raking along his nerve endings and setting his teeth on edge. Looking at her, curled in the tacky flowered chair that had come with the trailer, he suddenly realized his need was more than lust. He needed her approval and her understanding. He’d always thought himself immune to those feelings until this woman with the soft voice and sweet smile had taught him he was only human.

  “I’m going to tell you a story,” he said. “A true story.” He watched her face. It didn’t change. She didn’t get that bored look that meant she couldn’t care less. “Sweet women have never been a part of my life, Clemmie. My mother was famous, wealthy, and beautiful. She barely knew I existed.”

  “Oh, Michael.” Clemmie pressed her hand against her throat.

  “And then there was Hubbard Gladstone. She wasn’t sweet, but she sure was good-looking. She wasn’t my first, of course, but she just lasted longer. At one point I even fancied she and I would get married.”

  “You loved her?”

  “Love?” His eyes raked over her. “Love had nothing to do with it. I thought the child she was carrying belonged to me. That’s what she wanted me to think. The real father was a penniless, out-of-work bodybuilder. She’d met him at the gym where she worked out three times a week.” His laugh was short and bitter. “Some workout.”

  “How do you know it wasn’t your child?”

  “My private investigators found out about the bodybuilder. And the blood tests proved beyond a doubt that he was the father.”

  “You wanted a child?”

  “Yes. Does that surprise you?”

  “No, Michael. I think you would make a wonderful father. You have a tender side that you try to keep hidden, but I know it’s there.” Suddenly she pictured Michael with children, their children. There would be at least three, two boys with golden eyes like his and a daughter with his bright golden hair. The children were so real that she reached out to touch them. When her hand clutched emptiness, she was sad, almost as if her children had been snatched away from her.

  “Are you crying?” Michael jumped up from the sofa and knelt on the floor beside her chair. He brushed away the telltale tear with his fingertips. His hands lingered on her face. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

  “It’s not you; it’s the children.”

  “What children?”

  “The ones you could have.” Her smile was gentle. “I’m a dreamer, Michael. I was picturing myself in Hubbard’s place—having your children.” She reached out and touched his hair. “I would never have betrayed you. I would have loved you—always.” Her heart tripped a beat at the way he looked at her. She flicked her tongue over her dry lips. “If I had been Hubbard...”

  He stared at her in silence. When he finally spoke, it was in a hoarse whisper.

  “You’d be so easy to love.” His hands cupped her face then moved down the sides of her slender neck. “To wake in the morning with your face on the pillow next to mine...” His voice trailed off as his hand dipped into the top of the robe. She shivered as he dragged his fingertips lightly over her nipple. “To know that you belonged to me...” He cupped her breast, spreading his fingers wide so he could lift it up like an offering. She held her breath as he looked deep into her eyes. His free hand found her thigh between the open folds of the robe. Goose bumps rose where he touched her, but she didn’t pull back. “To hear that soft voice whisper my name...” His hand caressed her leg, moving steadily upward. “To know that I was the first one to touch you...” He paused, his fingertips brushing lightly, “...here.”

  “Ah, Michael.” Her head lolled on her limp neck. Her legs felt like rubber. “Touch me. Please, touch me.”

  His hand trembled on her. “Clemmie? Do you know what you’re asking?”

  “Yes. Oh, yes, Michael.”

  His hand trembled slightly, then his fingertip delved briefly into her. Ecstasy ripped through her. The finger slipped in again, then pulled out. “Don’t,” she whimpered. She wanted it to go on forever. “Oh, don’t... stop.”

  She was ready for him. She wanted him. Michael knew that. As his hand sought her again, he knew he was on the edge of control. A little while longer and there would be no pulling back. His hand hovered near that sweet heat for a moment, then drew back. His conscience wouldn’t let him take Clemmie simply because she was willing.

  Gently he folded the robe back across her thighs. Her head snapped up. “Michael?”

  “Ah, Clemmie.” He bent over her and kissed the silky skin of her cleavage. “You’d be so easy to love.”

  “Then love me.”

  “I’m not the falling in love kind.” He stood up and walked back to the sofa.

  Clemmie saw her one chance slipping away. Now was the time. With the storm battering the trailer and nobody around to ring a cowbell or call for her attention, now was the time to be with the man she loved. She took a deep breath.

  “I know that, Michael. Don’t you think I do?” Slowly she stood up. “I can’t make commitments, either. My brothers have three more years of college, and I’m responsible for them. I could never leave Peppertown.” Love drove her; instinct guided her. Looking deep into Michael’s eyes, she reached for her belt. Now that she was resolved to this drastic action, she felt an incredible calm.

  “Clemmie. What are you doing?”

  “Don’t stop me, Michael.” The knot gave way and the robe gapped open. “I know what I am doing.”

  Her skin glowed in the dim light of the trailer. With a shrug that was totally uncalculated, Clemmie let the robe slip from her shoulders. Her breasts were small and pointed, proudly erect and achingly sweet.

  She held her head high, only the slight tremor of her lips betraying her turmoil.

  “My God,” he breathed. “You have no idea what you’re doing.” He grabbed her by the shoulders, his eyes burning over her.

  “Kiss me, Michael.”

  “How can I refuse a lady?” His mouth came down on hers. The kiss was as fierce and wild as the storm lashing against the trailer. His tongue invaded her
mouth, plundering its depths. Unconsciously she rocked against him.

  He guided her hips closer, pressed her hard against him. He smiled as her eyes widened. “Now do you see what you do to me, love?”

  “Yes.” She tangled her hands in his hair and pulled his head down to her breasts. “I don’t want to be innocent anymore, Michael. Love me.”

  His control snapped. How could he refuse such a tantalizing offer? Ever so slowly, his mouth covered her breast, and he felt the shiver run through her. She moaned, arching her back so that her hips were fitted perfectly to his.

  He hadn’t meant to let it go this far, but with Clemmie, ready and willing in his arms, he had no more control than the storm. He drew the sweetness deep into his mouth while his hips plunged against hers. She kept his rhythm, hesitant at first, then with more certainty.

  Outside the trailer the storm picked up pace, howling its fury and battering at the windows. Michael felt the same wildness building between them. His need was tinged with desperation. He wanted Clemmie more than he had ever thought it possible to want a woman and yet some part of him held back. She was offering so much and settling for so little: her virginity for a one-night stand. That didn’t seem a fair exchange for him.

  Groaning, he lifted his head and took her mouth once more. He had to taste her lips one last time. He had to drug himself on her sweetness before he could pull away.

  He kissed her gently this time, gradually slowing the rhythm of his hips against hers, easing both of them down from the mountaintop so they wouldn’t plunge over the edge.

  At last he stepped back and pulled the robe onto her shoulders.

  “I can’t let you do this, Clemmie.”

  Her eyes were wide and luminous. She put a trembling hand on her throat, but said nothing.

  His smile was rueful. “Scruples.” He pulled the robe shut, covering the innocent body she’d offered to him. “Who would have thought I had scruples? And even a code of honor, warped as it is.” He reached for the belt, cinching it tightly around her waist.

  “Michael...”

  “Shh. Don’t say anything. I’m taking you home.” He put a finger over her lips. “Don’t look at me like that, Clemmie. I want you. Make no mistake about that. I want you more than you can imagine.”

  “Then why?”

  “I won’t take your innocence and leave you with nothing.”

  “What about what I want. I need you, Michael. I need you to make love to me.”

  “You need a good steady man who will take you to the altar and give you lots of children. I’m not the marrying kind.”

  “I know that, Michael. I’ve known it from the beginning.”

  “Knowing that, why did you offer yourself to me?”

  She turned her back to him so he wouldn’t see her face. She was afraid he would guess the truth. If he knew that she loved him, it would only add to his burden of—She searched her mind for the right word. Guilt? He had no reason to be guilty.

  Trying to keep her love from showing, she turned back to him. “My life was so ordinary before you came along, so scheduled. Good heavens, I even had a routine for grocery shopping.”

  He smiled. “I remember.”

  “You changed that, Michael. You gave me excitement and glamour and romance.” She folded her hands tightly together in front of her chest. “Peppertown is small. We don’t get many strangers like you. You gave me a once-in-a-lifetime chance to know what it is like to be intimate with a handsome hero of a man.”

  “Clemmie, I hardly know what to say. You do me great honor.”

  He started to reach for her then drew his hand back. He knew that if he touched her again, he wouldn’t let go. He’d have what he’d wanted almost from the first day he’d seen her. What they both wanted, apparently. But tomorrow would come. It always did. And then she would hate him, for nothing would be any different. He’d told her the truth: he wasn’t the marrying kind. And deep down, he sensed that she was. She was the kind of woman who needed a husband and children and a routine she could depend on.

  “I have a confession to make,” he continued. “When I came back to Peppertown, I had made a vow to myself to take you to my bed. I wanted to prove something—that you were an ordinary woman.” His mouth turned up in the imitation of a rakish smile, but his eyes were sad. “You’re no ordinary woman, Clemmie. I know that now, and that’s partly the reason I can’t make you a one-night stand.”

  “You’re sweet, Michael. And I do understand what you’re saying.” She pressed her palms against her cheeks in frustration. “But I’m old enough to make my own mistakes and live with the consequences.”

  “I know you are. The simple truth is that this time I can’t live with the consequences.”

  A silence descended on them as they gazed at each other and dreamed of what might have been. The storm outside, having spent its fury, sighed and swooned around the trailer, singing a death knell for the romance that never had a chance to happen.

  Clemmie was the first to break the silence.

  “You can take me back to my car now.”

  “Clemmie...”

  “Yes?”

  “I’ll be in Peppertown at least five more weeks.”

  “I know.”

  “I can’t let this situation between us get out of control again.”

  She watched him, waiting for him to explain.

  “If you want to come back...to watch the filming...”

  “I do.”

  “You’re sure?”

  She managed a small laugh. “Michael, there’s an old saying about not cutting off your nose to spite your face. I like you. I want to see you. If I let what happened between us tonight stop me, I’d only be punishing myself.”

  At that moment Michael knew that somewhere, somehow, someone was watching over him. No man should be as lucky as he—to turn down a wonderful woman and still have her want to see him. He knew that seeing her again would be agony, but not seeing her would be hell. He smiled.

  ‘‘I’ll call Bobo to follow us home.’’

  Chapter Nine

  Clemmie’s protests that she could drive home herself had not done her one bit of good. Michael had called one of the actors, Lonnie Bobo, who had left a winning hand in poker for the chance to follow the famous couple home.

  The windshield wipers on Clemmie’s car made quiet swishing sounds. Still wearing Michael’s green bathrobe, she sat in her corner of the car while he drove. Two skinny people could have sat in the space between them. By mutual consent, they did not touch.

  The silence vibrated with forbidden feelings and unspoken thoughts. Clemmie wanted to capture time in a bottle. She wanted to preserve this last moment of intimacy so that she could savor it in the long, uneventful succession of the days of her life.

  Michael wished that he could change the past. He wished for a normal family where love was not a foreign word. He even went so far as to wish he had spent his adult years in honorable celibacy. Glancing at Clemmie, hugging the robe to herself in the darkness, he decided that the two saddest words in the English language were if only.

  The silence pressed down on Clemmie until she could no longer stand it. With the memory of Michael’s touch still burning through her mind, she couldn’t think of a thing to say, but anything would be better than this explosive silence.

  “I can’t believe Lonnie is still wearing that monster suit,” she said.

  Michael glanced in the rearview mirror at the set of headlights following them. Looking at Bobo was not as satisfying as looking at Clemmie, but it was far safer.

  “Bobo is an actor through and through. He’s starred in several of my pictures. I tell him he’s more interested in his costume than in his salary.”

  “It was nice of him to come out in the rain like this.”

  “Bobo’s a great guy and a good friend.”

  Small talk. For the first time in his life Michael was grateful for it. And he knew why they were doing it. Neither of them wanted to thi
nk about what had happened in the trailer.

  “You’re lucky to have a friend like him.”

  “Yes.”

  They lapsed into silence again. The steady slapping of the windshield wipers suddenly seemed loud. Clemmie pulled the robe closer around her neck and stared out the window.

  Something crumbled inside Michael. Reaching across the seat, he took her hand.

  “Clemmie?”

  She turned to face him. In the dull glow of the dashboard lights her expression was tense.

  “I’m sorry, Clemmie.” He squeezed her hand.

  “Don’t be.”

  He knew he should probably let go of her hand, but he couldn’t. It provided one last small contact with the woman he longed for but couldn’t have. Keeping a tight hold, he turned into her driveway.

  Lonnie Bobo pulled in behind them and hopped out of Michael’s rental car. Dressed in his scaly green monster suit, he was oblivious of the rain.

  Michael helped Clemmie from the car, shielding her from the rain with his black umbrella.

  “Both of you are kind to escort me home.” Clemmie smiled up at the friendly green monster. “Come inside for a cup of hot chocolate before you go.”

  Michael would have said no, for he needed to go back to the solitude of his trailer so he could think. But Lonnie was a social creature, a lover of parties, impromptu and planned, and a great fan of the human race in general. Clemmie, in particular, interested him. He had never met a woman who had so completely captured his imagination. He’d watched her on the set. He’d seen her charm, her kindness, and the way she’d had Michael under her spell. He wanted to go inside and find out if she was for real.

  “Hot chocolate sounds great,” he said.

  The three of them went inside the boarding house.

  “I’ll get the milk heating. You can hang your wet things here in the hall.” Clemmie went into the kitchen.

  Michael hung his umbrella and rain slicker on the hall tree while Bobo surveyed the hallway, turning carefully so his long, scaly tail wouldn’t knock against any furniture.