Next Time...Forever

by Sherryl Woods

  “No, really,” she protested, thinking of her inbred sense of propriety.

  “I won’t take no for an answer. Someday you can return the favor when you see someone who looks lost and alone.”

  When the check had been paid, he guided her out of the crowded restaurant and across the cobbled street to the riverwalk. A soft, sultry breeze stirred the muggy air. A handful of glittering stars had been tossed across the velvet sky. The silence as they strolled was every bit as companionable as their conversation had been. With every step, though, the air of expectancy built. It pulsed and teased like the beat of a tango.

  Unable to bear the mounting tension a moment longer, Catherine forced an innocent question. “You’re not from here originally, are you?”

  He glanced at her knowingly, obviously recognizing the query for what it was: a coward’s step back from an unfamiliar closeness. “What was your first clue?” he taunted with a light acceptance of the diversion.

  She laughed. “No drawl, for one thing.”

  “Any others?”

  “You were eating dinner alone.”

  “Maybe I enjoy my own company.”

  “Maybe so, but I rather think a man like you could have the company of any number of women if you were on your home turf. A wife, for example?”

  “Is that a leading question?”

  She tilted her head up and smiled flirtatiously, even as she said, “It would only be a leading question if I were interested in you. Since we’re just strangers passing in the night, it’s simply a point of information.”

  “Ah, a fine distinction. As a man who knows the value of precise wording, I approve.”

  “You still haven’t answered the question.”

  “Perhaps because, like you, thinking of my personal life is too painful.”

  “You’re divorced?”

  “In the process. My wife couldn’t handle the amount of traveling I have to do, the impossible number of hours I have to put in.”

  “So she gave you an ultimatum?”

  “Nope, no ultimatum. Just my walking papers. Apparently she didn’t feel there was much point in discussing the obvious.”

  “The obvious being that you would choose work over her?”

  “As she saw it.”

  “Was she right?”

  His steps slowed and it was a long time before he answered. She had the feeling he was honestly soul-searching. “I wish I could say no,” he said finally. “But I honestly don’t know. I loved her and I miss our kids. That’s the hardest part of all—knowing that I won’t see them grow up, at least not the way I would living in the same house.”

  “Shouldn’t you fight to get her back, then?”

  “Would it be fair to do that if I couldn’t keep the promise to change?”

  “But you don’t know that,” she argued. “You haven’t tried.”

  He sighed deeply. “No, I haven’t tried. Maybe that says it all. When push came to shove, I didn’t love her enough to try. She deserves much more than that. She’s a terrific lady.”

  In the soft glow of the streetlight, Catherine saw the profound sadness and regret in his eyes. She wanted to reach out, to touch his cheek, but she held back. “At least you don’t sound proud of walking away,” she said.

  “I’m not. If I could go back ten or fifteen years, maybe I’d do it all differently, but this is where I am today. I have to live with that.”

  “Isn’t the trick to recognize where you are, decide if you like it and, if not, then make changes? That’s what I’m trying to do. That’s what brought me to Savannah. I’m looking for a new direction.”

  “Why here?”

  “There’s a school. It offers the kind of courses I once wanted very badly to take. They weren’t really available when I was in college. In fact there’s only one place in the country even now that offers a degree in historic preservation and it’s here in Savannah.”

  “And?”

  “I went by there today. Now I’m not so sure. Everyone seemed so young.”

  He opened his mouth, but she laughed and warned him, “Don’t you dare tell me that age is only a state of mind.”

  “Ah, but it is, Catherine.”

  “Maybe so, but there’s a season for everything and I think it’s past time for me to be starting all over again as a college student.”

  “Don’t give up so easily. Think how much knowledge and experience you’d take into a classroom. You’d be way ahead of your fellow students.”

  “I’d never thought of it quite like that. Thank you.”

  He stopped and turned her to face him. “Let’s make a pact, you and I.”

  “Okay,” she said, her serious tone matching his expression.

  “Repeat after me, I do solemnly swear…”

  “I do solemnly swear…”

  “That I will spend the next year…”

  “That I will spend the next year…”

  “Discovering who I am and what I want out of life. No half measures, no rushing into things because of outside pressures.”

  Catherine felt a sigh building deep inside as she repeated the vow.

  Her gaze met his. His eyes were filled with longing and regret as he lowered his head slowly until their lips barely met. His were soft as velvet as they brushed across her mouth. Then his arms slid around her waist, strong and possessive and loving. The kiss turned hungry and urgent, as feelings far too complicated swept through her, fulfilling earlier promises and altering forever the memory of their encounter. The innocence of it fled and in its place came a startling awareness, a powerful yearning to discover more of the taste and feel of him.

  He finally pulled away, his hands lingering at her waist, his gaze searching her face. A faintly rueful smile tugged at his lips. “Ah, Catherine…if only things were different.”

  “If only… Two of the saddest words in all the language. Is that the way two people should live their lives?”

  “Perhaps not. Shall we make another vow before I put you in a cab and send you off to your hotel?”

  “Why not?” she said, fighting the sense of loss that was already stealing over her at the thought of their parting. A second loss—today of all days—was almost more than she could bear. Still, she managed a wavering smile.

  “Do you remember the play about the couple who met just once a year and through the years came to know more about each other’s lives than those who lived with them most intimately?”

  “Same Time, Next Year,” she said at once. “I loved that play.”

  “Then let’s make a promise to meet right here next year and see how our lives have changed.”

  “I’d like that,” she said, entering into the fantasy of a time far in the future when things might be less complicated, when emotions might be less in turmoil. So much could happen in a year, so much could change. Just look at the past few months: her safe, predictable life had been turned topsy-turvy. She met his intense gaze and felt a slow heat begin to build deep inside. “I’d like that very much.”

  “Then I’ll be waiting for you,” he promised. “Coffeepot in hand.” He stole one more kiss before whistling for a cab, tucking her inside and then walking away.

  It wasn’t until he was almost out of earshot that Catherine realized she didn’t even know his name. With a sudden sense of urgency, she told the driver to stop, threw open the door and ran after him. At the sound of her footsteps on the cobblestones, he turned around. She halted in midstride, feeling suddenly foolish for wanting more, for needing that one link with someone she’d most likely never meet again, despite vows and best intentions.

  “I don’t even know your name,” she explained with a helpless shrug. “I’d like to.”

  “Dillon,” he replied, his voice so low she had to strain to catch the response.

  “Dillon,” she repeated. It fit somehow. Unique, thoroughly charming Dillon, an Irish rogue if ever she’d met one. She smiled with a serenity she hadn’t felt in weeks and waved again as she go
t back into the taxi.

  “Until next year,” she whispered to herself as he disappeared from sight. It seemed as close as tomorrow.

  And as far away as forever.

  CHAPTER ONE

  May 16—one year later

  “Catherine Devlin, what do you mean you’re not going?” Beth Markham asked, her wide-eyed expression reflecting her amazement. “For the past twelve months all I’ve heard about is Dillon this and Dillon that.”

  “You’re exaggerating. I haven’t mentioned the man in ages.” Catherine turned away to hide her embarrassment. With forced concentration she began piling the latest donations to St. Christopher’s thrift shop onto the counter in front of her. She eyed the clothing critically, set the price and tagged each piece, hoping that Beth would go away or at least change the subject. Talking about Dillon made her nervous. So did, for that matter, remembering him. For a man she’d only talked with for a short time an entire year ago, a man she’d kissed just twice, he’d made an incredibly lasting impression.

  “Last night,” Beth said, sneaking up on her.

  Catherine’s black felt tip pen skittered wildly across the tag. Her heart hammered.

  “What?” she said as she ripped the ruined tag off and attached another one.

  “You mentioned Dillon again last night.”

  “I did not.” The denial was halfhearted. Though she hated admitting it, she suspected Beth knew exactly what she was talking about. She usually did. When it came to romance, Beth had the finely honed instincts of a successful matchmaker. Catherine was one of her few failures. Sensing that another meeting with Dillon could turn that around, Beth wasn’t about to let Catherine off the hook.

  “We were sitting at your kitchen table,” Beth began, her amusement apparent. “I remember exactly how it happened. You started to take off your wedding ring. It’s about time you did that, by the way. Anyway, then you said—and I quote—`Dillon said I could always be a model for the diamond trade.’ And then you sighed.”

  “I did not,” she repeated, only barely resisting the urge to sigh, thereby confirming Beth’s smug statement.

  “You did,” Beth contradicted anyway. “You sigh every time you mention his name.”

  Catherine stopped tagging the clothes and turned slowly toward the woman who’d become her best friend over the last months when she’d been getting her feet back on the ground after the divorce. Beth was a delightful scatterbrain with a heart big enough to embrace the whole world. Though they’d been neighbors for years, it was only after Matthew had left that Catherine had gotten to know and appreciate her rare combination of wisdom, humor and blunt honestly.

  “I do?” she said, dismayed by the sappy, love-struck picture of her that Beth was presenting. “I actually sigh?”

  Beth nodded, grinning victoriously. “And you get this mysterious, faraway look in your eyes. You’re smitten, Catherine Devlin, and I for one don’t intend to listen to you going on and on about the man for the rest of your life. Today’s the day you are supposed to meet him in Savannah. Now get out of here. It’s a long drive and you’d better get started now if you intend to be there by dinnertime.”

  “I am not driving all the way to Savannah to meet a total stranger,” she protested weakly.

  “He’s not exactly a stranger. Heck, I feel as if I know him by now.”

  Catherine glared at her. “I haven’t been that bad.”

  “You have been, but don’t worry. I think it’s wonderfully romantic.”

  “You would.” She shook her head. “No. It’s ridiculous. It was a once-in-a-lifetime meeting. It’s not the sort of thing you try to prolong.” Despite the protest, the temptation to go, to take a risk for once, was gaining momentum.

  Beth must have sensed her weakening. She pulled out her most powerful argument. “You made a vow, a solemn oath, didn’t you? Are you going to go back on your word?

  Whatever would your mother say?” she drawled, deliberately mimicking the honey-thick Southern accent of Catherine’s very proper mother.

  “Don’t drag her into this. If my mother knew I was even considering running off to Savannah to meet a man—a Northerner—I hardly know, she’d say plenty and it would blister your ears. I’d never hear the last of her disapproval. She barely tolerated Matthew because he’d only lived in Atlanta for a few years when we met.”

  “In the case of your ex-husband, she was right to be disapproving. The man was a self-righteous bore.”

  “He was not,” she defended automatically, then realized that essentially she’d come to agree with Beth. Matthew had been a little stuffy, which had made that fling with the pediatrics resident all the more shocking. Maybe that had changed him, but the old Matthew would never in a million years have sanctioned exchanging polite chitchat with a total stranger, much less traipsing off to Savannah to meet a man she’d only known for a few hours. Still…

  “Maybe…”

  Beth seized on the hesitation with enthusiasm. “I knew it! You’re going, aren’t you? Now hurry up. You don’t want to miss him.”

  “It’s the middle of the week. The man does work, you know. He probably won’t even be there.”

  “If he’s not,” Beth said practically, “you can go by the Savannah College of Art and Design again and check out the classes. It won’t be a wasted trip.”

  “Don’t start that again. I’m thirty-three. It’s too late for me to take up a whole new career. I realized that when I was there last time.”

  “Fiddle-faddle! It’s only too late when you’re dead. Think about it, Cat. You’re wasting yourself working in here. Not that I don’t love having your help. I’ve actually had time off since you started volunteering, but you could do so much more.”

  “I’m happy now,” she argued. “I have enough money to live on from the investments I made with the divorce settlement and with the trust fund from my father. What’s wrong with just trying to make myself useful, giving something back to the community?”

  “Nothing if it makes you happy, but it doesn’t. I don’t care what you say. You’re going through the motions, filling up hours. Your year of mourning is up, sweetie. It’s time to take some chances.”

  “Going to meet Dillon is about as much of a chance as I can cope with today.”

  “Then you’ll go by the school tomorrow,” Beth said with the persistence that had made her one of the best fund-raisers the church had ever had.

  Catherine laughed. “Okay. You win. I promise I’ll think about it.”

  She should have anticipated that wouldn’t be quite good enough for Beth. “I’m going to ask to see catalogs and class schedules when you get back,” Beth warned.

  Catherine groaned. “No wonder your kids like to hide out at my house. You’re a nag.”

  “If your house was littered with potato chips and socks, you’d nag, too.”

  “Maybe so,” Catherine said, unable to keep a hint of unexpected wistfulness from her voice. At one time she’d wanted so badly to have children, but Matthew had been adamantly opposed. He liked to travel. He liked having her at his beck and call. And, though she could have defied him, she’d known that an “accidental” pregnancy was no answer. It would have created a horrible environment in which to bring up a child. The irony, of course, was that practically fifteen minutes after their divorce was final, Matthew had remarried because the pediatrics resident with whom he’d been having the affair was pregnant. Catherine figured it served him right.

  “Maybe so,” she said again, this time with more bitterness than she usually permitted herself.

  Beth sobered at once, obviously reading the direction of her thoughts with her usual uncanny accuracy. “Don’t look back, Cat. You can’t change the past. Go out now and grab the future.”

  Catherine felt her heart begin to beat a little faster as the image of Dillon reappeared in her mind as it had so often over the past year. She recalled the way he’d listened to her, really listened, and the way he’d looked at her with such war
mth and affection, as if they’d known each other forever.

  “What the hell,” she murmured finally. “You only live once.”

  * * *

  All the way to Savannah, Catherine told herself she was a fool. Dillon wouldn’t show up. Why would he? He was an attractive man in a profession that threw him into contact with women far more beautiful, successful and sophisticated than she was. It had been an entire year. Just because she hadn’t been able to get him out of her mind didn’t mean he would remember their few hours together or the promise they’d made.

  No matter how determinedly she tried to balance her excitement with a healthy dose of reality, though, the anticipation was winning. She’d had a lot of dates during the past year, but none had filled her with this pins-and-needles expectancy. In fact, she only dimly remembered feeling this way with Matthew during the first heady days of their courtship fifteen years earlier, when she’d just started college and he’d been in medical school. Recalling that reminded her how fleeting such emotions could be.

  But even that sobering reminder wasn’t able to dampen her sense of adventure six hours later as she dressed in a simple red dress that flattered her dark coloring. She added gold jewelry and a subtle touch of her favorite perfume, a French floral scent that Matthew had hated, probably because she’d paid a hundred dollars an ounce for it. Sliding her feet into a pair of very high black heels that made her look sinfully wicked, she left for the restaurant, which was only a few blocks away on the waterfront.

  It was a balmy night with only the faintest breeze stirring off the river. As she walked, she recalled that slight flaring of desire she’d seen in Dillon’s eyes before he’d kissed her and said goodbye. Her pulse throbbed at the thought of his lips on hers again—warm, sensuous, demanding. An aching heaviness low in her abdomen told her once more just how captivated she’d been, how much she wanted him to be waiting for her tonight.

  At the restaurant door, she hesitated, stricken with a sudden shyness, a sudden onset of sanity. Was she crazy for coming? Was she taking an incredible risk? The news was filled with such horrible stories…. The memory of Dillon’s gentle kindness allayed her fears. She caught her reflection in the restaurant window and saw the slow curve of her mouth. “Don’t back out now, Cat,” she murmured and slipped inside before she could change her mind.