“But are they naked if covered by water?”
“Don’t go analytical on me, Martin,” she quipped. “It’s the thought that counts—Oscar Wilde.”
“By George, she’s got it.”
She knew he’d been waiting for a green light for three years. Would he now recognize it when she flashed it on before his eyes? She was the one starting to feel the heat, and just then was questioning herself as to why they were three feet apart. She walked to a nearby chaise longue close to the pool and sat at the end. “Come sit here,” she said, patting the spot.
The kiss when she had first arrived that night was their second. The first was three years earlier, when he took her and his ailing father for a weekend to the music festival in Sarasota, Florida. On the last evening, after dinner, he surprised her by sweeping her up into an unbelievable waltz. One by one the other couples stopped and stood watching from the dance floor edge. The orchestra realized instantly something special was happening and smoothly repeated the entire selection twice without skipping a beat. With her head still spinning and the crowd applauding, he drew her to him, and they held a long kiss as though the kiss had also been choreographed—the crowd roared with approval. Later, he modestly explained his college dance club had won international awards.
At the end of that memorable evening in Sarasota, he took her hands in his and proposed marriage in his best old-world manner. His proposal had been sweet and romantic and carried the strong implication that, if she accepted, he would lay the world at her feet.
That was then. Was she now looking at the same Martin?
He saw the far-away look in her eyes. “Sandy?”
She blinked and turned to him. “Do you remember our waltz?”
He didn’t need to ask what waltz. “Silly question.”
“The Merry Widow Waltz by Lehar,” she said.
“I didn’t realize you recognized it.”
“I didn’t… well, it sounded familiar. I had to look up the title later.”
“How nice. When was this?”
“Earlier this evening, after I went home and was thinking about you and your invitation to come here tonight.” She took his hand. “A good friend of mine once told me, some memories are so special you have to add them to the story of your life.”
Talking to Kyle had brought together many of her scattered thoughts, and she had heard herself speaking some of those thoughts aloud to him that night. Of course, many things had pointed her to this evening with Martin, and she wasn’t giving Kyle credit for getting them together. She harbored no remaining romantic thoughts about Kyle, but she had to admit their conversation was the spark she needed to get her love life moving again.
“Sandy, I don’t know you as well as I thought.” In truth, he had made a study of Sandy Reid and knew her quite well. It was just that he was surprised by her clear recollection of the waltz.
“Well then maybe you should get to know me better.” Her voice was serious now.
Although he had been referring to the waltz, he was not startled when she replied with such an unguarded comment. Not defensive in the least.
He had noticed lately she seemed to be letting her defenses down. And he knew it wasn’t just for him. He didn’t consider her night with the former boyfriend from Philadelphia particularly significant. After all, they had lived together, which was an entirely different level of intimacy and nothing new should be read into it. He would have done the same if unattached and an old flame crossed his path.
Yet, whatever was happening between her and Mel was a serious threat and could not be ignored. It was much more of an indicator that the defenses she had naturally raised during mourning seemed to be gone. She was a different person now. The vibrant, fresh Sandy Reid that he had met before her romance with Chip was back. It was the time to be bold.
He leaned closer and softly pressed his lips to her forehead, holding them there for a moment, inhaling the scent of her hair and the faint trace of her perfume, its crisp fragrance a daily treat in the office.
She tipped her head back and smiled at him, “We’ve been avoiding these moments haven’t we?” She touched his cheek with her hand. “I know you were respecting my feelings while Chip was around and of course later after he died. All very nice and appropriate. Nevertheless, you’ve withheld your charms from me for much too long.”
“I was taking my signals from you, Sandy.”
“I noticed. You’re one step ahead of me, aren’t you?”
He smiled. “I’m not so sure of that.”
He’d always assumed the memory of that weekend in Sarasota was his own private remembrance. Yet, remarkably, the waltz melody had stayed in her head for years. He listened as she began talking about that Sarasota trip. Much to his surprise, she replayed that evening for him almost hour by hour. It was the first she’d ever mentioned how she felt when she had turned down his proposal that night. He knew the reason.
He knew his considerable wealth was not a positive point for her. It had always been an impediment to any serious thought she might give to spending a lifetime with him. He knew that for her the world of fabulous wealth would be a nice place to visit, but she couldn’t imagine living there. He was taking no chances this time. There would be no hint of a lifetime together coming from him. She seemed to be welcoming intimacy here tonight, but he was uncertain what she had in mind. Just being with her was all that was important. He’d take whatever she offered.
They sat there side-by-side in the moonlit garden, under a curtain of live oaks and Spanish moss, and began to reminisce. Mentioning the ups and downs, joys and disappointments, that had made them close friends. Before long, his arm was around her shoulder pressing her closer and her head rested on his shoulder, as though they always sat out there in the evening talking year after year.
“There’s so much I love about you,” she said, almost an hour later.
He sensed the lateness and didn’t want her driving home alone. If he asked her to stay the night, would she think it was planned? “I don’t want the evening to end, even so, it’s getting late. I suggest you stay here.”
“Excellent.” She looked back at the huge house. “Are you sure you have room? I wouldn’t want you sleeping on the couch.”
“Let’s go have a look.”
He had given her a tour of the house on previous occasions. Back then, she just thought of it as a grand old house with countless rooms and furnishings that belonged in the Smithsonian. She hadn’t paid much attention. They were in the upstairs hall, when he said, “There are four guest rooms— you’ll have your choice, although I can already guess which one you’ll choose. And it won’t be the one with the chintz curtains. Sleep in as long as you like. Amelia will arrive in the morning, if you hear someone downstairs in the kitchen. I’ll leave a note that you’re here. I usually make my own breakfast. Rest assured, she’ll want to fuss over you and no doubt insist on making an excessive breakfast.”
“Sounds marvelous. But don’t have her bring a coffee tray up to my room in the morning and open the drapes, or anything such as that.” She wasn’t kidding.
“No, but you’ll find a coffee service on a table in the hall outside your door in the morning.” He shrugged as though it was entirely out of his control.
“Here is my parent’s bedroom, quite nice.” He pushed the bedroom door open so she could step in. “Their balcony looks out toward the ocean. Mine overlooks the waterway. I might switch to it one day, but I like my bedroom.” He took her hand and turned toward the hall. “I have just the perfect guest room for you.”
She resisted. “I’d like to see your bedroom first.”
His bedroom was quite large, which made the king-size bed appear small. It rested, opposite the stone fireplace, against a wall decorated in cream textured wallpaper offering a neutral background for the several clusters of modern abstract paintings. The bedroom furniture was of deep mahogany matched with the baseboard trim and crown molding.
She walke
d through his closet-lined dressing room and stepped into the huge bathroom and shower area. “So this is where the Master takes his shower, shaves his face and does all those manly things. What’s that chrome rack thing built into the wall over there?”
“Towel Warmer.”
“Of course, silly me.” Back in the dressing room, she said, “May I open a closet door?”
“Yes, but—.”
“Geez, how many pairs of black shoes does one man need? And look, you have five hundred suits here, and they’re all the same color,” she joked. She raised an arm of one suit jacket and tenderly held it to her face. “Smells like Martin.”
Once back in the bedroom, he watched as she stood for a moment admiring the fireplace, neatly prepared with kindling and logs for the unlikely event of a chilly summer evening. Then she walked across the room to the French Doors. He helped her open them, took her hand, and they walked out and stood on the large balcony. They could see a cove off the river dotted with undulating boats on moorings and on across to the lights of the main part of the city on the western horizon.
He said, “We can see better out here without the glare from the bedroom light behind us. May I turn that bedroom lamp down?”
“Just a little.”
“I can also turn off those garden and pool lights down there as well, if that would help.”
“No, they look like a reflection of the stars. As though, I’m on a distant planet so high the stars are below me. Look, between the trees. I can see the lights on the Ocean Boulevard Bridge over the Waterway there.” She pointed. “And on the other side, there are the lights of a cruise ship far out into the Atlantic.” The warm night air floated over her body. “Absolutely sensuous.”
She stepped back into the bedroom. “Oh, it’s truly magical here. Martin, I have a huge favor to ask. If I’m sleeping over, I’d love to sleep in this room tonight... if you have no objection.”
“None whatever. I’ll sleep in one of the guest rooms. It will be great knowing you’re in the house.”
She sat on the edge of the bed, looking lazily around his bedroom, and her eyes moved up to the high ceiling thinking. “Now that you've turned the lamps down low, I'm beginning to see the light.” She grinned, kicked off her shoes and stretched out on the bed on her back, trying to appear as soft and vulnerable as possible. He hesitated then sat beside her.
She reached her arms over her head and touched the headboard. “If you saw a woman spread out on the bed like this, what would you think?” Her body stood out in contrast to the deep red bedspread.
“I’d think I was in the wrong bedroom.”
“What if it was the right bedroom... and the right woman?” She reached her hand out toward him.
He took her hand, opened it and pressed her palm to his lips. He closed his eyes and kissed the palm still disbelieving what she was offering him. He leaned over her and brushed a stray wisp of hair away from her face, his thumb running gently down her neck. His touch soft yet confident. For years, he’d forced himself to avoid staring at her, and now her eyes were locked back on him and not glancing away. The undeniable look of surrender.
As though memorizing every second, he fixed his eyes on her lips, which seemed fuller and brighter as though simmering with heat. She parted her lips slightly and unconsciously skimmed over them with the tip of her tongue. He couldn’t resist brushing a fingertip gently across her soft lips capturing the sweet wetness. He touched the fingertip to his own lips as if tasting honey. He leaned in calmly, kissed her on the side of her neck, and grazed his lips down to her shoulder. Then, with her face cupped in his hands, he kissed her lips softly. He held the kiss as if she might never give him another. He began to taste the enchantment that came from somewhere deep inside her; the kiss suddenly became inflamed as she began giving back and drew him to her. During all those years, neither had given up on knowing the magic that was now about to happen. And when it did happen, nothing was ever the same again.
The End
About the Author
I was born in Salina, Kansas, and attended school there and in Evergreen, Colorado. I was graduated from the University of Denver. My background is in education and business. Now living in Florida, I devote full-time to my compulsion to dig into the souls and lives of fictional characters.
When I think of mystery writing, I picture children sitting around in the dark telling ghost stories. We all like stories. I believe the shortest distance between two people is a good story. In my stories I try not to have one damn thing after another, but rather one damn thing because of another. And I try to remember that the difference between real life and fiction is that fiction has to make sense.
I hope you enjoy the adventures of Sandy Reid.
"When I get a little money I buy books. If any is left over I buy food and clothes." ~ Erasmus
Novels in the popular Sandy Reid mystery series:
One Deadly Sister
The Price of Candy
Such Wicked Friends
Chasing Suspect Three
Alive After Friday
Into the Heat
To check on all the books in the Sandy Reid mystery series:
CLICK HERE!
Return to Table of Contents
One Deadly Sister
Four Star Mystery Novel Rating
She doesn’t carry a gun but then neither does a pit bull ~
An almost-too-clever young law student reluctantly attempts to rescue her estranged brother caught up in woman-trouble and a murder charge in a hostile Florida town. He isn't looking for trouble, but doesn't have a clue about women, and gets seduced and framed, leaving the sister in an ever-increasing entanglement of deceit, double-cross and danger.
The Price of Candy
Four Star Mystery Novel Rating
Passion makes fools of us all ~
An old acquaintance interrupts Sandy Reid’s law studies and gets her seriously involved in unraveling the mystery of a body on a Florida beach. Sandy uncovers the identity of the prominent Congressman who gave the beautiful hitchhiker a ride to Florida and confronts him. Now that the naked body has been discovered, he risks having his misdirected passion exposed and his reputation and prosperous way of life devastated.
The almost-too-clever young law student must solve the mystery surrounding the unidentified dead woman on the beach, unscramble a related child kidnapping that the mother won’t report, and clear herself of a murder charge that threatens to destroy her dream of becoming a lawyer. Along the way, she discovers she has fallen victim to a sensuous passion of her own.
Such Wicked Friends
Four Star Mystery Novel Rating
Sometimes friends are more dangerous than enemies ~
Sandy Reid stumbles over a potential client—shot between the eyes. She believes the murdered woman is asking her to find the killer. How else to explain the mysterious spot of blood Sandy later discovers on her own hand? Then a friend kills himself. Or was it a second murder cleverly disguised as suicide? Now with two people dead, Sandy can’t resist getting involved and is drawn into a plot that stretches out to national ramifications. At the last moment, she discovers her gutsy scheme to entrap the killer is more dangerous than expected and has to play out exactly right for her to get out alive.
Chasing Suspect Three
Four Star Mystery Novel Rating
Clients don't just hire her, they turn her loose. ~
Sandy Reid is back and the assertive young criminal defense attorney finally lands her first big murder case. As she digs in and begins to destroy the state attorney's case, she is convinced her client is lying. Is she rushing to save an innocent woman or helping a killer get away with murder?
She faces a client who seems innocent of shooting her husband until she opens her mouth, the client's mysterious boyfriend who has no past and is unquestionably shady yet doesn't cast a shadow, and the victim's sister whose fashionable façade hides a layer of predatory sex. The sister also happens to be a former
girlfriend of Sandy's lover and wants him back in her life. And they all have a reason to lie.
Sandy finds herself questioning her lover's faithfulness at the same time she's deciding whether to go too far with an FBI agent with movie-star looks who won't take no for an answer. Her gutsy search for the killer leads her away from her quiet Florida ocean side town and down to the tropical palms along Biscayne Bay, and the steamy streets of Miami that are dark with something more than the night.
Alive After Friday
Four Star Mystery Novel Rating
Their first mistake was choosing her as a victim. ~
When an extortion plot strikes too close to home, Sandy Reid is forced to come up with a world of money to save her lover. Once again her hard-headed nature ignores the risks and with sidekick Martin she’s off on a gripping whirl around sun-drenched Palm Beach County, Florida; including confronting a sexy stranger who’s easy to brush off until the gun comes out, a cheating wife who gets more action than she can handle and a Barbie Doll beauty who would never jump into bed with just any couple who asks. Meanwhile, must straight-laced Martin resort to seduction to learn the critical secret of the enticing woman who already has two murdered men in her past? All this because a pair of shadowy characters make the biggest mistake of their lives when they target Sandy.
Into the Heat
Four Star Mystery Novel Rating
Friends and enemies—both turning up the heat. ~
Sandy Reid must untangle the mix of a man who targets the wrong guy as his wife’s lover, a Goth Girl wannabe whose dream date turns into a real-life nightmare and a nice girl dying to break it off with a cheating husband. All while Sandy’s trying to straighten out her own love life. Just as she’s struggling (not too hard) to choose between admirers, a former flame shows up and turns up the heat. Meanwhile Martin’s sexy possibilities range from a shady lady to his moonlit dream girl. In the end, Sandy must stay one step ahead of a Miami hood who assumes she’s willing to use everything she has to get what she wants. Won’t the bad guys ever learn?—Don’t make eye contact with Sandy Reid and if she attacks play dead.
Into The Heat (Sandy Reid Mystery Series Book 6) Page 28