The Other Half of Your Heart
By
Janis Susan May
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The Other Half Of Your Heart By Janis Susan May
Red Rose Publishing
Copyright© 2007 Janis Susan May
ISBN: 978-1-60435-003-6
ISBN: 1-60435-003-2
Cover Artist: Rene Lyons
Editor: Savannah Gray
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. Due to copyright laws, you can not trade, sell or give any ebooks away.
Red Rose Publishing
www.redrosepublishing.com
12065 Woodhull Road
Forestport, NY 13338
The Other Half of Your Heart
By
Janis Susan May
Chapter One
“Buck? He was there again.”
Normally the faint note of fear in her voice would have angered Cara. Now it didn't matter, because she really was scared.
“Who? That same little creep from accounting?”
Even though he was miles away, the deep rumble of Buck's voice made Cara feel better. Maybe it was only a silly by-product of being in love, but it stopped her shaking.
“Yes. He followed me to my car.”
“He what?” Anger roughened the soft southern drawl. “Did he try anything?”
“No...”
Now that she was safe at home with the door locked and knowing that Buck would be there before long, Cara began to feel a little foolish.
“What did he do?”
“Nothing...” came the hesitant reply. She wasn't hurt; Dave Burkhart hadn't grabbed at her or even spoken to her. He had just been there, behind her, all the way up to the third level, just as he had just been wherever she happened to be for the last week or so. Just there, just looking.
A tinge of amusement crept into Buck's voice. “So he didn't say anything, or do anything, but he still scared you out of your wits.”
Said like that, it made Cara feel even more of an idiot than she already did. She should have laughed it off, but... He had been too many places recently, always looking at her until she felt uncomfortable.
And arrogant. In spite of herself, Cara laughed. Dave Burkhart was new; maybe he didn't know third level parking was only for R&D staff, or that accounting people didn't usually wander all over the building. While a growing company, Brownley/Spaulding Pharmaceuticals wasn't as big or rigidly structured as Lederle or Merck, or some of the other giants.
“You don't have to make me feel like such a fool,” she said. “I know I'm being silly.”
“Now, sugar...” Buck's voice was like warm, dark honey, enveloping Cara like a hug. “Don't be too hard on the guy just for looking. It's a natural male instinct to stare at the prettiest girl in seven counties...”
Cara giggled, this time self-consciously. After a lifetime of knowing her curly red hair and unfashionably robust figure to be no more than passably good lookingBucknell Tarrant's full-blown southern flattery still swept her off her feet.
“Oh, stop it, Buck! You're outrageous.”
“I call it just being honest, honey, but at least you're laughing again.”
“You're good for me.”
It was true. Ever since their accidental meeting in the Brownley/Spaulding lunchroom some three months earlier, Buck Tarrant had been like a prince in a fairy tale, with seemingly no purpose but to make Cara Waters happier than she had ever been.
“Besides, in about four hours from right now, we'll be far away from here and without a worry in the world... and where no creep from accounting can bother you.”
“Oh, yes!” Cara sighed ecstatically. To have Buck sweep her away for an exotic weekend on a day's notice was the most romantic thing she had ever heard. “You don't know how much I'm looking forward to New Orleans!”
* * * * *
“Puerto Vallarta?” Cara asked blankly. “You changed our tickets to Puerto Vallarta? Why there, of all places?”
Buck grinned and looked smugly satisfied. “Well, sugar, I just got to thinking that New Orleans is a great big old city, and great big old cities have lots of people in them, and I don't want to be bothered with lots of people when all I do want is to be alone with you.”
Cara felt her knees melting. Suddenly the crowded airport was the most romantic place in the entire world.
“But my clothes...” she said weakly. “I didn't bring anything for a beach resort...”
“Aw, honey,” Buck answered with a bashful smile. “We can buy you whatever you need. Besides, people don't wear that much down there.”
Even if he hadn't been movie star handsome and as impressively muscled as in his prime football days, Cara could have fallen in love with Bucknell Tarrant for his smile alone. Half mischievous little boy, half incredibly romantic man, it was irresistible. Combined with a warm loving look from his lion-gold eyes, it would have captivated a much more sophisticated woman than small-town bred Cara Waters.
The ticket agent was smiling too. Buck had that effect on all women. “Your boarding passes, Mr. Tremont.”
Smiling broadly, Buck took the passes and didn't bother to correct the woman for getting his name wrong. Cara was impressed with his kindness.
“But Mexico... Isn't it awfully expensive just for a weekend?”
In spite of the milling crowds, Buck wrapped his arms around her and planted a tender kiss in the middle of her forehead. “You're a funny little thing, you know that? You let me worry about stuff like that and you just concentrate on being happy...”
Only his half-dozen inches over six feet allowed Buck to regard Cara as little; it was a sensation she thoroughly enjoyed. Normally she towered over everyone.
“I'm happy,” she said in perfect honesty, “as long as I'm with you.”
* * * * *
But she wasn't with him.
At least, not in the way she had dreamed of being.
Cara leaned against the balcony railing and breathed in deeply of the warm, flower-scented night. What a night to be alone! Nothing could be more romantic. The music from the hotel nightclub mingled with the pulse of the sea to create a driving, lonely throb that beat at Cara like a cold fist.
Ever since she had met Buck, Cara had cherished uncharacteristically romantic notions about him. When he had proposed a weekend in New Orleans, she had assumed that he had chosen that way of breaking the final barrier of intimacy that stood between them, that the purpose of this trip was to join their bodies, as their souls already seemed to be. When he had suddenly changed their tickets to Mexico, she had been sure of it.
Now, chastely kissed good night at the hotel room door and left alone in the large and luxurious room, Cara didn't know what to be sure of. She certainly wasn't an experienced woman of the world, but she wasn't totally ignorant, either. She had never heard of a man who proclaimed his love for her in so many ways, yet who had never mentioned making love to her.
With every other man she had heard of, it was the other way around!
What was wrong with her?
The phone rang three times before Cara could pull herself away from the view. There was only one person it could be, and at the moment, she wasn't too keen on talking to him.
“Cara? Honey, are you okay?”
No, Cara wanted to say, I'm all alone in the most romantic spot in
the world. The distress in Buck's voice was too real, however, so she merely replied, “Of course. It hasn't been half an hour since you left me here.”
“You just took so long to answer the phone... this is a foreign country, you know.”
So why have you left me alone? Cara wondered petulantly. Aloud she said, “I was out on the balcony.”
“I've been out there, too. Sure is a beautiful night, isn't it?”
“Beautiful,” Cara agreed sourly. “Buck, why can't we enjoy it together? Come over here and let's... talk.” The words spilled unchecked from her mouth, then simply dried up. She had some pride left. She would not beg him to come to her! She would not!
“Look, honey, I know it's rough, but just how strong of a man do you think I am? If I came over there... well, being so close to you...”
“Would that be so bad?”
“Don't be silly!” he said sharply. There was a moment of silence, then the words came slowly, as if pulled from him reluctantly. “Where I'm from, when a guy feels about a girl like I feel about you... Well, it shouldn't be anything cheap.”
Almost melting with tender emotion, Cara opened her mouth to speak, but instead shouted “Buck! Are you all right?” when a loud and ominous-sounding thump reverberated through the phone.
“Yeah.” He sounded annoyed. “I sat down on the bed and it slid against the wall. Apparently the furniture here isn't up to people being frisky.”
Cara's own bed was a large solid affair that would take a regiment to move. “Where have they put you? Isn't it a nice room?”
“Don't get your feathers all in a fluster, sugarbunch. I'm just down the hall and my room is just like yours.”
“But if your bed isn't comfortable... You could come sleep down here...” Cara stuttered to a stop, suddenly aware that even after his beautiful declaration of love and respect, she was sounding like a strumpet, no matter how innocently she had meant it. Blood flowed to her cheeks in a scalding flood. “I mean, we could get a rollaway or something... I just want you to be comfortable,” she finished weakly.
Buck laughed, and his gentle amusement came through the receiver like a warm embrace. “You're a cute little thing. Now don't you worry, my room's just fine, and I'm just down the hall. You've got to get some good sleep now, because I'm going to pick you up for breakfast about nine. I'm going to get you a big surprise tomorrow.”
After a few more sentimental exchanges, Cara slipped under the covers wearing a supremely silly grin to go with her seductive wisp of nylon. She was still alone, a fact her emotions protested, but her ego, soothed and stroked and flattered by Buck's skillful tongue, was fat, glossy, and self-satisfied. She was too precious to him to sully with something as crude as pre-marital sex. What they had was too spiritual to violate with animal physicality. She, he had declared, deserved something more than cheap passion, no matter how much he desired her.
Suddenly Cara understood.
Yelping in surprise, she sat bolt upright, both hands clapped tightly over her mouth to keep herself from shouting.
A big surprise tomorrow.
Separate bedrooms tonight.
Marriage!
Tomorrow he was going to ask her to marry him!
Cara giggled with happy realization.
What else could it be? His refusal to sleep with her even though he professed how much he loved and wanted her? A last minute switch for their romantic weekend from New Orleans to Mexico? People could get married in Mexico very easily, couldn't they?
By this time tomorrow night, she could be a married woman.
Mrs. Bucknell Tarrant.
“Oh, no!”
Her involuntary whimper startled Cara. She should be ecstatic, not hesitant. Marriage was such a big step, she rationalized. It should be a carefully considered choice, not just a product of sudden passion.
He should, she thought indignantly, have at least asked her before planning such a big shindig. Of course, Buck was always the one for the big romantic gesture - this trip was the proof of that - but for such a big step, there were practical things that had to be ironed out, like where they were going to live and who had what furniture. Cara hadn't even seen his home!
And there were other things to consider, more intimate things. What would it be like living with Buck all the time, seeing him shave, cooking him breakfast and dinner, sewing on his buttons, doing his laundry, picking up after him... Somehow Cara just knew he never picked up after himself.
Cara sank back against the pillows, more than a little dismayed at the direction her thoughts were taking. Now, much to her surprise, she wasn't sure if that was what she wanted. She was definitely more accustomed to the working world than stay-at-home domesticity, and far closer in spirit to Marlene Spaulding, president of Brownley/Spaulding, than June Cleaver. Could she submerge her identity into Buck's like he would expect?
Did she want to?
Her grin gone, Cara lay back down and stared at the darkened ceiling while the ocean and the music pulsed deep into the night.
* * * * *
“So when do I get my surprise?”
Her megrims had vanished with the dawn, and when Buck knocked on her door, Cara flung herself into his arms without reservation. He was so handsome and so sweetly old-fashioned and she was so lucky to have him... it was stupid to let herself be depressed by late night doubts. If today were to be her wedding day, she should be joyful!
It was well past noon now, though. They had played tourist all day, eating breakfast in a small hotel right on the seawall and, after a quick tour of the town in a wheezing minibus, lunch in a tiny little restaurant on a quaint side street. Since then they had walked hand in hand wherever their fancy took them.
Puerto Vallarta was a sublimely scenic town, romantic enough even for Cara. Made of white buildings with red tile roofs, it nestled on a thin strip of beach and backed halfway up a mountain. Caught between the Bay of Banderas and a thickly forested, almost impenetrable range of mountains, Puerto Vallarta was a fantasy of Mexican colonial design adapted to tourist dreams. There were shops and parks and shops and beachfront and shops and restaurants and... Shops! It seemed they had looked into every one they passed. While Buck had been inspecting a selection of gaudy belt buckles, Cara had purchased a long floaty dress of white gauze that, if one were suitably fanciful, could be appropriate for almost any occasion, public or private.
Be prepared...
Buck had bought bottled sodas from a passing vendor and they sat to enjoy them in a small park with dusty trees and ornate iron benches. The drinks were in unlikely shades of blue and yellow, but tasted much better than they looked.
“Greedy little thing, aren't you?” Smiling, Buck moved his arm from the back of the bench and draped it proprietarily around her shoulders, giving her a quick squeeze.
“Well, you did promise me a surprise... It's no fair keeping me on tenterhooks.” Cara winced at the strength of his hug. Beneath his sun-tanned skin, Buck's muscles were as hard and lumpy as bowling balls in a pillowcase. She wished he'd remember she wasn't as tough as the sports jocks he roughhoused with.
“Well, honey, maybe the tenterhooks are the surprise. Wonder what tenterhooks are, anyway? They sure don't sound very comfortable...”
“Buck...!”
“Well, you've been a good girl, so I guess you can have this one now...”
When they had come out of the third or fourth souvenir shop, Cara noticed that Buck had acquired a package. Roughly the size of a bagel, it was wrapped in gaudily colored paper, and in spite of all her queries, he refused to tell her what he had bought. Now he handed it over with a grin.
Cara tore at the paper, revealing an enormous silver cuff bracelet, thick as her finger and fully two fingers wide, deeply chased with a complicated design of plumes and serpents. It was also absolutely hideous. The only saving grace was that it was much too small to slip over her hand.
“Oh, Buck...” She tried to sound enthusiastic.
“I knew you'd
like it, honey. Knew it as soon as I saw it. And it's got a feature that's kind of cute...” Grinning like a schoolboy, Buck took the silver monstrosity from her fingers and twiddled something in one of the designs, making the thing slide open like a gigantic mouth.
“How clever!” Cara said at last when it became obvious she had to say something.
Taking her wrist, Buck snapped the bracelet around it, then twisted and removed one of the plumes. Cara could feel a mechanical clicking beneath the silver skin, like handcuffs closing.
“You've locked it on me!”
“Yeah!” Buck looked as happy as a small boy as he dropped the plume/key in his pocket. “Isn't that neat? Now you know you're mine all the time!”
The sentiment was lovely, but Cara thought he could have expressed the same thought in a much more acceptable manner, such as an engagement ring. “That's lovely, Buck, but I don't need to be reminded of it.” Not like this, she thought. “Now can we take it off?”
Buck's happy expression crumpled. “I thought you liked it.”
“I do, honey...” Cara lied. “But it's so heavy...” That, at least, was the truth; it pulled at Cara's arm like an anchor.
“Oh, it can't be that heavy! I want you to wear it, sugar. It shows how much we mean to each other.”
Another lovely sentiment, but Cara was quick to note that he didn't wear one.
Her protests fell on deaf ears. Buck merely took her hand and raised it to his lips, pressing kisses on her palm and wrist. “Honey, this is a symbol (kiss) of how I feel (kiss) about you. (Big kiss) I hope you feel about permanence the way I do... (kiss) I thought that this would...” He stopped and turned hurt eyes towards her. “I guess I was wrong. I'll take it off if you really want me to...”
Cara's stomach knotted. Her mother had always said the key to a successful marriage was compromise. “No,” she said. “I'll wear it happily. You can give me the key when we start home.”
The Other Half of Your Heart Page 1