Traci On The Spot

by Marie Ferrarella

  Probably because she’d been screening her calls and avoiding her mother ever since she’d told her about the engagement ring on Sunday, she thought ruefully.

  Traci looked at the far wall in the family room. Part of it was covered with framed photographs from the past. There was a large one of her and Morgan standing before the summerhouse. She couldn’t remember which of their mothers had insisted on taking it. She only remembered that both she and Morgan had trouble standing still beside each other long enough for the shot to be taken.

  Traci and Morgan. Morgan and Traci. Back then, it seemed their lives had been permanently intertwined. A bittersweet feeling of loss passed over her.

  Picking up the card, Traci pulled the telephone over to her on the counter and tapped out the number on the keypad.

  “Law Offices,” a crisp voice announced after only one ring.

  Either business was bad for the firm or someone was awfully efficient, she mused. Who woulda thunk it? Morgan Brigham, a criminal lawyer. “Mr. Morgan Brigham, please.”

  “Is he expecting this call?” the voice on the other end asked primly.

  Traci wound her index finger around the cord as she rocked on the stool. “Absolutely.”

  It was obvious that the secretary was unconvinced and determined to remain an obstacle. “Whom shall I say is calling?”

  She wanted to surprise him. “Why don’t you let me tell him that?” Traci suggested stubbornly.

  “Madam, this is highly irregular.”

  Traci wondered if Morgan knew how offputting his receptionist was. Probably. “I’m nobody’s madam, and trust me, he wants this call.”

  “Well, I—”

  The woman abruptly stopped talking. There was the sound of a hand being passed over the receiver and then a muffled exchange of voices in the background. Cradling the receiver between her shoulder and ear, Traci wandered over to the coffeemaker and poured herself a mug. This was going to take a while.

  “Hello?” The voice was deep, rich, like the black coffee in her mug.

  Startled, Traci paused at the refrigerator, the door opened. “Morgan?”

  “Yes?”

  She didn’t remember his voice being so resonant. It took her a second to collect her thoughts. “This is a voice from your past.” Taking out the container of milk, she closed the door with her hip.

  “Traci.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

  She was a little disappointed that Morgan could guess so easily. It wasn’t as if she called him all the time. Or ever.

  Pouring, she watched the milk swirl into the darkness. “Yes, how did you know?”

  He laughed and the sound seemed to surround her. “You’re the only person out of my past who could give my secretary the beginnings of a migraine.”

  Traci had no idea why that made her smile. “You shouldn’t hire such delicate help and you should definitely get yourself a more exciting past.”

  Obviously, some things never changed, Morgan thought. Traci still had a convoluted way of looking at things. “In order to do that, it would mean that I’d have to work on my present.”

  Her grin grew. “Yes, it would.”

  “Still think you know it all, don’t you?”

  Was that a fond note in his voice or just her imagination? “No, now I know I do. But let’s not get into that. I’m holding your note in my hand.”

  “I was beginning to think you weren’t interested. I sent the note out last Friday.”

  Traci looked at the stack of mail and then at the engagement ring box. She ran the tip of her finger along the lid, then pushed the box back.

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “So, does that mean you’re interested in buying the old place?”

  It might do her some good to get away for the day. To get away from the crowds and try to sort out not her mail but her thoughts. Which were in more of a jumbled mess than the stack on her counter.

  “I don’t know about buying it, but I’d certainly like to look around. When’s a good time?”

  She heard the rustling of paper, which she assumed was the pages of his calendar.

  “How does tomorrow sound?” Morgan asked. “I don’t have to be in court and there’s nothing scheduled I can’t push back. Can you get away?”

  Tomorrow was Friday and, since she’d finished the strip, it stood wide open. Daniel wasn’t due back from the convention until late Sunday night. Traci rustled papers of her own, though hers were only blank sheets on her drawing board. Funny how she could feel her competitive nature coming to the fore just at the sound of Morgan’s voice.

  “Looks like I can. Noon sound all right?”

  He laughed softly. “Still like to sleep in?”

  She did, but she didn’t see the point in admitting it to him. Knowing him, he’d jump at the chance to make it sound slothful. “No, I just don’t like driving in the dark and it’s roughly a three-hour trip from where I live.”

  “All right, I’ll meet you there at noon.”

  That settled, Traci was about to ring off, then stopped. “Morgan?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thanks for asking me.”

  Morgan shrugged it off. “Don’t mention it. You spent as much time there as I did.”

  “More,” she corrected. “You went away to school, remember?”

  He was very quiet on the other end and she thought for a moment that he hadn’t heard her. Then he answered, “I remember. So I’ll see you at noon tomorrow.”

  “Bye.”

  Traci hung up and looked thoughtfully at the telephone, wondering if she was making a mistake. An uneasiness skated through her, but she attributed it to the decision she had to make.

  For a moment, she debated calling Daniel at his hotel and leaving a message for him that she was going to be away. But then she thought better of it If he knew she was away, he might worry.

  No, Daniel never worried. He knew she could take care of herself. He was good like that.

  He was good in a lot of ways.

  She should have her head examined for even vacillating, she thought, looking at the ring box again. Very carefully she opened it and looked down at the perfectly cut square diamond. It winked and blinked at her, catching the fluorescent light and playing ball with it.

  She snapped the lid closed with a shiver.

  “No doubt about it. It does grow.” Putting the box down again, she got ready to take her cartoon strips to the office.

  Early the next morning, Traci piled her sketchbook and her dog, along with a well-worn map she never quite got the hang of reading or folding, into her vintage Mustang and drove out of the city.

  A sense of excitement and adventure telegraphed itself through her.

  Jeremiah had sole possession of the back seat, patrolling the area with the air of a newly liberated king, moving from one window to the other. Traci had opened each only far enough for him to stick out his nose and only part of his head.

  She adjusted her rearview mirror, looking into the back seat as the road threaded onto the expressway. Jeremiah appeared to be one happy dog.

  She wished it could be that easy for the rest of the world. “Unfortunately, it takes more than having your ears and tongue flapping in the wind,” she said aloud to the dog.

  Morning traffic slowly dissipated. It was a long, steady drive. She broke up the monotony by talking to the dog and singing along with the radio. The trip seemed to take longer than she remembered. But then, she’d never made it from the heart of New York City before.

  Finally, she was on the last leg. Taking the narrow road off the beaten path, she looked around as she drove in what she hoped was a northeasterly direction. Things looked vaguely familiar, but that could have been wishful thinking on her part. She fervently hoped she wasn’t on her way to the Canadian border.

  Edginess began to waft through her again. She’d been feeling that way ever since Daniel had given her the ring. Up until that point, she’d been content enough just to float a
long. Although, at times, that tiny voice that advocated having a husband and children, the one that vaguely resembled her mother’s voice, would get a little louder.

  What was she doing here, anyway? she demanded silently. Granted, the scenery was tranquil and the ripe autumn colors made it look as if she had tripped and fallen headlong into nature’s kaleidoscope. But that should have no bearing on her decision when it came to choosing a partner for life.

  For life.

  An involuntary shiver shimmied up and down her spine.

  Stop it, Traci. He’s going to make a great husband.

  She knew he would. An excellent, loving husband. Traci thought of Daniel. Dr. Daniel Thane, a man whose blinding smile was the first thing you noticed about him, which was fortunate, given his occupation.

  A blinding smile that seemed to lack heart.

  Damn it, that wasn’t fair. Daniel had heart. He had lots of heart. What he didn’t have was chemistry, but so what? There was nothing wrong with being solid, dependable, trustworthy, and-Daniel was all those things. He had all the qualities a woman looked for. Her mother loved him.

  A feeling like a heavy, rain-soaked blanket fell over her soul. Her mother wasn’t going to be married to him; she was. For better and for worse.

  Forever.

  How could one word be so unsettling?

  What was the matter with her? She’d had flash and fire and been summarily burned by it when Rory decided to ride off into the sunset. Commitments frightened him the way they seemed to attract Daniel. Rory had abruptly left at the first sign that she wanted to become serious. That was where chemistry got you. With an empty bed and a bruised heart. Daniel wanted to fill her bed and take care of her heart. Forever.

  That had to count for something. So he didn’t curl her toes; she could live with that. Curled toes were hard to walk on, anyway.

  Swerving quickly to avoid a squirrel that had darted out onto the road, she sighed. She wasn’t convincing herself. Jeremiah yelped in protest as he tumbled to the side of the car.

  “Sorry. You wouldn’t want me to hit a squirrel, would you?” The half growl, half whimper behind her had her laughing. She could almost hear what the dog was thinking. “No, you wouldn’t. They’re too tough to eat.”

  Slowing down, Traci took a curve, then drove up the winding road slowly.

  So what, she thought, picking up the thread of her own internal argument. So what if bells and banjos didn’t fill the air when Daniel held her hand or kissed her? Electricity was for the utility company, and for teenagers fumbling in the back seat of a car, not for a grown woman. She would take stability over curled toes any day.

  She just wished…

  What? Traci thought impatiently, annoyed with the way she was vacillating. She just wished what? That she could feel the wind beneath her sails, to have the sky light up when a man kissed her?

  Been there, done that. Gone nowhere.

  She should be grateful that Daniel had happened. He’d turned love into a comfortable thing, something she’d just slipped into.

  Like clean underwear in the morning.

  Traci winced and forced herself to pay attention to the road before she really did hit something. Where was that house, anyway?

  Traci halted the car abruptly as she stared at the fence up ahead. Was she lost? She didn’t remember a fence on the property when her parents had driven up here. And she certainly didn’t remember a No Trespassing sign being posted.

  There was a tiny M. Brigham in the corner below the declaration.

  No, she wasn’t lost, Traci decided. The notice had obviously been put up by Morgan. Morgan Brigham had probably grown up to become a pompous ass and his waist had probably thickened while his hair had thinned. Growing up was the pits sometimes.

  Traci got out of the car and approached the sign. She ran her hand along it. The last time she’d been here was—when?

  Pausing, she linked events up in her mind, searching for a time frame. It had been right before she’d gone away to college. Once college had begun, there just hadn’t been enough time to come out here anymore, even though she’d wanted to.

  And then her parents had stopped reserving the house for the summer. There seemed to be no point to the time-sharing arrangement anymore. Their only daughter had grown up and life had taken another road.

  Away from here.

  For a moment, Traci stood, debating with herself. Something was urging her to turn around and go back. The old adage about not going home again echoed in the corners of her mind. She was afraid that what she would see would shatter the idyllic time childhood had become for her in her mind.

  “Coward,” she mumbled under her breath.

  Unlatching the gate, Traci pulled it open far enough to accommodate her car. Then she got back in and drove up the grassy road.

  She could see the house.

  Her pulse began to hammer as excitement spilled through her. Yes, that was definitely the house—a two-story, wood-frame building with a chimney that was dwarfed by the trees around it. Just beyond, she knew, was the dock and the lake where she’d learned how to swim. How to kayak. And how to dream.

  Without realizing it, she pressed down on the accelerator just as she crossed the wooden bridge.

  Traci zoomed over it the way she’d zoomed over so many things in the past few years. Suddenly, she desperately wanted to see the house.

  Following the winding path, she traveled the rough, uneven gravel-paved road as far as she could, then pulled the car over to the side. After getting out, she locked it out of habit and went the rest of the way on foot. Jeremiah, eager to stretch his legs after being in the car for so long, fairly galloped down the path. Holding on to the leash, she all but flew behind him.

  “C’mon, dog, I don’t want to be dragged.”

  Traci was nearly in front of the door when she heard someone behind her. Alerted, Jeremiah began to bark. And cower.

  Cartoonist found dead at house where she spent summers. Film at eleven.

  Heart hammering in her throat, vying for space with a gasp, Traci swung around. Her hand was raised up in a pseudo self-defense movement she had absolutely no idea how to execute.

  “Took you long enough.”

  Her mouth fell open. Her hand remained in the air only because it was frozen in place. This drop-dead gorgeous guy just couldn’t be—

  “Morgan?”

  The dark green eyes narrowed within their handsome setting. “None other.”

  2

  His mother was right, Morgan thought as he looked at Traci. Actually, she had understated the matter. She’d said that Traci had grown up to be a “pretty little thing.” But she hadn’t. Traci Richardson had grown up to be a drop-dead, teeth numbing knockout.

  Remembering the strip he’d read today, Morgan glanced down at her left hand. He wasn’t too late. Unlike her counterpart, there was no huge diamond winking and blinking on her hand. It was bare.

  It was also turning an interesting shade of pink. Red, really. The leash was wrapped around her hand and it was obviously cutting off her circulation. The creature attached to the other end of the leather strap seemed bent on dragging Traci back down to her car.

  The dog, for all its size, appeared to be cowering. Morgan couldn’t help grinning at the sight as he breathed a little easier. He nodded toward the animal. “Some watchdog you have there.”

  Traci lifted her chin defensively and took umbrage for the dog. Actually, she thought that when it came to Morgan, she probably would have taken umbrage no matter what he’d said. Their relationship had always taken on antagonistic ramifications whenever they ventured past “hello.” It was the nature of the beast, and now that she was older and could look back at her life with a more discerning eye, she had to admit that she rather liked it that way. She’d enjoyed the daily confrontations. They had kept her on her toes and kept her summers from being dull.

  Traci glanced at her pet. “Jeremiah does the trick when I need him.”

 
; Jeremiah didn’t look up to any sort of tricks, defensive or otherwise. What the dog did look like was downright sleepy. Even now, his big brown eyes were shutting.

  “How?” Morgan asked. “By lying down on the intruder and smothering him to death?”

  Blue eyes with flecks of gray narrowed into gleaming slits over the bridge of a very pert nose. “Want a demonstration?”

  She’d do it, too, Morgan thought. She’d sic that four-footed monster on him. He wouldn’t put anything past her. Morgan held up his hand and laughed. “No, I’ll pass, thanks”

  Vindicated, Traci loosened her hold on the leash. “Smart move.” Eyes moving up and down the length and breadth of him, she sized up a person she’d once known as well as her own reflection. “It would be your first, I imagine.”

  Same old Traci. In a way, in an ever-changing world, that was almost comforting. Almost.

  Morgan nodded. “Seeing as how I invited you up here to look around the old place, I’m inclined to agree with you. At least as far as today goes.”

  Ready to fire back, Traci opened her mouth, then shut it again. And laughed.

  It was that same, skin-tingling, sexy, smoky laugh that he remembered. At the time, it seemed incongruous for a teenage girl to have a laugh like that. But it fit right in with the woman he saw before him. Traci had been a thin, bouncy, perky girl, and while he could still see that in the woman she’d become, there was something a hell of a lot more unsettling about the way she looked at him now than there had been then.

  And even then, the sound and the occasional look had gotten to him, although Morgan would have willingly swallowed his own tongue before admitting it to her or anyone else.

  “Well, I see you haven’t changed any,” Traci told him.

  At least, she amended silently, his attitude hadn’t. Looks-wise, well, that was a whole other story. Her mother had told her that he was good-looking, but mothers were obligated to say things like that about their best friends’ sons. It was a rule that was written in stone somewhere or other.

  Who would have thought that, for once, it was actually true?

  In response, Morgan made an exaggerated show of looking down at himself, as if to check out what she was saying. In his opinion, he’d changed a hell of a lot, and they both knew it. He had a well-worn, banged-up set of weights housed in his garage that he had exercised with daily for the past eight years to prove it.