by Peggy Webb
“Not exactly in those words.”
“Look... can I help it if I have this built-in distrust of journalists?”
“Haven’t we gone beyond that, Virginia? When are you going to start viewing me as a person instead of a profession? When are you going to learn to trust me?”
“You’re tough. No wonder you’re good.”
“In bed or in the magazines?”
“Both,” she said. Bolton’s smile was slow and easy. “All right... all right. I admit it. I trust you, Bolton. As much as I can trust any of you.”
“Good. Then I’ll do the interview.”
He studied her for so long, she felt as if he were probing her with laser beams.
“Back to my original question: What happened to make you distrust men?”
This time he didn’t protest when she walked away. With the instinct given to all men who love nature, he understood that there were times when all creatures must be free. He knew that unless he let Virginia go, he could never keep her, never even hope to keep her.
Her stride was long and determined, and for a moment it looked as if she meant to stalk all the way to her house and never look back. He stood with his feet firmly planted, resisting the urge to follow her.
There was something magnificent in her anger. The way her skirts swished left no doubt in his mind that underneath was a body seething and ready to explode. That was one of the things he loved about Virginia: She never did anything halfway. Whether she was making love or expressing her rage, she put her entire self into it. With her there was no pouting, no sniffling, no retreating into silence. With Virginia, he knew exactly where he stood.
And at the moment, he was at the edge of the woods all by himself, literally as well as figuratively.
He knew the minute she made up her mind to turn back. Her skirt told the story. The angry, swishing skirt began a gentle swaying. Bolton held his breath, watching. The sun had all but disappeared, leaving a red-gold glow that reflected in Virginia’s honey-colored hair and on face.
It was a picture too good to miss. He aimed and fired. He would never tire of watching Virginia, never tire of photographing her. With or without the lens she was a subject worthy of hours and days and years of contemplation.
When she turned and saw the camera, she smiled.
“You can’t resist a good shot, can you?” she said.
“I can’t resist you.”
She came back up the path to him, and he didn’t stop shooting until she stood two feet away, eyes lifted to his.
“You are irresistible,” she whispered. “I can’t walk away from you like that.”
He took her hands, lifted them to his lips, and kissed her open palms.
“Virginia, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. Your past doesn’t matter to me. All that matters is us... here... now.”
“No, I need to tell you.” She withdrew her hands and stepped back as if touching him while she talked might taint him. “It was a long time ago. I was younger then, naive in many ways, especially about men. Roger was the only man I’d ever known... intimately.”
The confession made her self-conscious, and she turned her face from him. He caressed her cheek lightly, once, making no attempt to turn her face back to his.
One touch was enough. Virginia faced him once more.
“I guess that makes me hopelessly outdated,” she said.
“It makes you hopelessly wonderful.”
“Don’t,” she whispered. Quickly she shut her eyes so she wouldn’t see the love light shining in his. She’d seen that love light once, had thought it would burn forever.
What had gotten into her anyway? Baring her soul like that?
Shrugging her shoulders, she attempted a light laugh.
“Look,” she said. “It was nothing. He left me for another woman. Men do it every day.”
In the fading light she tried to study his face, but it was hidden in purple shadows. Why was he so still? Why didn’t he say something?
She clenched her hands together, then hid them in the folds of her full skirt. Still, Bolton was silent.
“All right,” she said. “He didn’t just leave me for some stranger. Besides Jane, she was my best friend. Jane, Sandra, and Virginia, the Three Musketeers, one for all and all for one. I was teaching history, saving every penny I made so Roger and I could build our dream house. He not only took my best friend, he took all my money as well. It wasn’t much, but it was all I had. If it hadn’t been for Jane, Candace and I would not have had a place to stay.”
“Jane’s a lovely woman, Virginia.”
“Yes, she is, inside and out.”
“I don’t want Jane. I want you.” Bolton glanced over her vast estate. “This is an impressive place, but I prefer a simpler setting, mountains instead of tennis courts, woods instead of swimming pools, birch logs instead of brick and stone.” He took both her hands. When she tried to jerk away, he held on tightly. “I don’t want your money, Virginia. If you gave every penny of it away, I’d still be in love with you.”
Cursing the darkness that hid her face from him, he waited for his words to sink in. He could tell by the stiffness of her body that she was still unconvinced. What would it take to make this woman believe how he loved her? What would he have to do to show her that the fire and magic between them was a once in a life time thing?
“You push too hard, Bolton,” his mother was always telling him. “Ever since you were born you’ve tried to control everything in your path. Sometimes you have to let go. Sometimes you have to let things happen.”
He would give everything he owned, including his beloved horse and dog, if he could know the right thing to say, the right thing to do so that Virginia would let down her guard and let him love her. But when it came to matters of the heart, he was a novice. And so he decided to simply let things happen.
Gathering her into his arms, he held her close. Her rigid stance told him that she was merely allowing this embrace, and perhaps only for the moment.
“It’s all right, Virginia,” he whispered, pressing his cheek against her hair. “We won’t speak of these things.”
Relief flooded through her. She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.
“Let’s go inside and raid the refrigerator,” she said.
“Let’s go.”
Linking hands, they raced down the path together. Then together they created a feast as unconventional as it was huge, scrambled eggs and pasta salad, graham crackers with melted marshmallows and chocolate on top, iced tea with a sprig of mint, and toast cut in the shape of hearts. Bolton did the cutting, and she did the supervising. The result was eight perfect hearts spread with butter and raspberry jam.
“Too pretty to eat,” she said.
“Unless you’re starving.” He ate two at one time. “I’m glad I thought of them.”
“Hey, the hearts were my idea.”
“I beg your pardon. That’s outright plagiarism.”
“Guilty.” She held out her hands, laughing. “Take me captive. Punish me.”
He carried her up the stairs, and they made slow, exquisite love while the moon made changing patterns across the sheets.
“I wish you had brought your clothes so you could stay the night,” she said.
“I don’t need anything except you, Virginia.” He yawned and stretched flat on his back. “I’ll get my clothes in the morning.”
It was that simple. Bolton was moving in with her. At least until Candace came home.
Virginia wasn’t going to think about that. Not yet. What she’d think about was the glorious week ahead.
Bolton was already asleep. Spread across her sheets gloriously naked, his right hand resting on her stomach and his left flung above his head, he took up most of her bed. Smiling, Virginia curled next to him. She loved the smell of him, the feel of him, the look of him.
The last thing she thought about before she fell asleep was that when she woke up in the morning, Bolton wo
uld be there.
o0o
He kissed her awake. His kisses were sweet and damp, falling on her cheek, her ear, her nose, her lips. When she opened her eyes she was dazzled by the sight of him bending over her naked.
“Good morning,” he said.
Automatically she started reaching for her robe. Morning meant another day to write, another day to prove herself.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“Early.” He eased her back to the bed and tucked the covers under her chin. “Don’t get up. I wanted to let you know that I’m going to take a quick shower, then run back to the motel and get my things.”
“Hmmm.” She snuggled under the covers. “Okay.”
Somewhere in the back of her mind was the idea of joining him in the shower, then putting on jogging pants and racing toward the barn and saddling the horses. Oh, there was so much they could do together, so much she could show him.
The next thing she knew the doorbell was ringing. She grabbed her robe.
“Bolton?” she called, but all she heard was the sound of the shower. The doorbell pinged again. “Coming,” she yelled, racing down the stairs.
Jane stood on her front porch, dressed in hot-pink sweats that clashed with her hair.
“Jane...” Flustered, Virginia cinched her belt tighter and smoothed her hair. “What in the world?”
“You told me to come over here for a morning jog come hell or high water. Of course, you forgot to mention that you’d be otherwise engaged.” Jane plucked an oak leaf out of Virginia’s hair. “I hope the Apache was as good in the sack as he looked like he’d be.”
“Shhh, he might hear you.”
“That’s his car in the driveway, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
“Upstairs... in the shower.”
“Aha! This is getting better and better.” Jane punched her friend’s arm. “Good for you, old gal.”
Virginia grabbed Jane and dragged her into the kitchen where the danger of being overheard was lessened.
“My Lord.” Hands on hips, Jane surveyed the kitchen. “What happened in here? An orgy, I hope.”
Virginia felt her face flush.
“We didn’t clean up after dinner.”
“Dinner?” Inspecting pots, pans, and plates, Jane popped a leftover graham cracker treat into her mouth. “It looks like breakfast, lunch, and dinner, to me. I hope that means you were too busy with more exciting things to eat.”
“None of your business.”
“Hey, I’m the one who told you to have at it. Remember?”
As much as Virginia loved Jane, she felt a disloyalty to Bolton in letting her best friend describe what they had done as having at it.
“It wasn’t like that, Jane.”
Something in the quiet conviction of Virginia’s tone made Jane wary. She sat down heavily at the table.
“Oh, my...I need something to drink.”
Virginia got two cups from the cupboard.
“Hot tea or coffee?”
“I don’t care as long as it’s laced with plenty of sugar.”
The old friends were silent as Virginia brewed coffee in the Keurig then added cream and a heaping portion of sugar to Jane’s cup. Completely at ease now, Virginia leaned back in her chair and enjoyed her morning coffee.
“I’ve never seen you so... glowy,” Jane said.
“I feel good. Better than good. Wonderful.”
Jane plopped her cup in its saucer and leaned across the table to grab Virginia’s hands.
“Now you listen to me, Virginia. Don’t you dare fantasize about this. Don’t you dare tell me you’ve fallen in love.”
“All right. I won’t.”
From upstairs came the sound of Bolton’s footsteps as he moved around the bedroom, dressing. A feeling as lovely as roses blooming overcame Virginia. Glancing through the open doorway and in the direction of the stairs, she gave a small secret smile.
“Virginia...”
“I’m not going to do anything foolish, Jane.”
“Why am I not convinced? Is it because you’ve taken to going to bed with oak leaves in your hair? Or is it those hickeys all over your neck?”
Virginia drew the neck of her robe higher.
“Remember what happened with Harold,” Jane said.
“That was six years ago.”
“You thought he was the next best thing to sliced bread.”
“He didn’t fool me for long.”
“He practically had you at the altar before you discovered he was planning to pay off all his gambling debts with your money and then retire and spend the rest of your money traveling over Europe.”
“All right. So I made a mistake. But I’m not altar bound with Bolton Gray Wolf. I have better sense than that.” A heavy silence fell over them as Jane studied her. “I don’t want to hear it, Jane.”
“What? I didn’t say anything.”
“Good. Don’t.”
They heard the sound of whistling, then footsteps on the stairs. Virginia smiled as if Christmas were coming and she was being granted a private audience with Santa.
“I guess this means the jog is off,” Jane said.
“We’ll jog, Jane... after Bolton has gone back to Arizona.”
“I’m going to hold you to that, Virginia.”
Virginia barely heard her, for Bolton Gray Wolf filled the doorway, and nothing else mattered.
FIVE
“Hi, Bolton, bye, Bolton. Gotta go,” Jane said, but neither of them heard her.
Bolton leaned in the doorway drinking in the sight of Virginia, and she sat in her chair devouring him with her eyes. The chemistry between them was so sizzling the air felt charged.
“You look delicious,” Virginia said. “Good enough to eat.”
“I was thinking the same thing about you.”
Coming from any other man, the compliment would have sounded like flattery, but Virginia had learned that Bolton said what he meant and meant what he said, even when he was professing his love. There was no doubt in her mind that Bolton Gray Wolf loved her, but would he love her when he was forty and still turning heads and she was fifty-three and nothing was turning except her hair?
“Not only thinking, but planning...” he said, stalking her with passionate intent gleaming in his eyes.
He peeled off her robe and took her on the kitchen table, took her with such thoroughness that she was mindless with joy.
Time and again he brought her spiraling out of control, and when she finally protested that she didn’t have an ounce of passion left, he proved her wrong. They shouted their completion at the same time, Virginia with a soft primal scream and Bolton in the beautiful musical language of his people.
“My Apache warrior,” Virginia whispered, pulling him close. “My magnificent, glorious, beautiful, lusty Apache warrior.”
“I would fight ten thousand battles for you, Virginia. And win every one of them.”
“You don’t have to fight for me. I’m yours...” His eyes glowed with such triumph that she knew he’d misunderstood. “... for the rest of this week, at least.”
For a moment it looked as if Bolton would protest. Instead she felt his passion rise, and when he took her again, it was with such fierceness that she could think of nothing but him, see nothing but him, do nothing but scream out her pleasure.
When it was over, she rearranged her robe. Her hands shook as she reached for her coffee cup. Kneeling beside her, he caught her hands and brought them to his lips.
“I love you, Virginia. Now and always.”
“Don’t...” She batted her eyes against quick tears. “Don’t spoil what we have.” She cupped his face, not tenderly but urgently. “We have so little time. Every minute is precious. Please don’t spoil this week with talk of the future.”
“It’s foolish to run from fate, Virginia. Sooner or later you’re going to have to stop and face the truth. We belong together. Our futures are
intertwined.”
“We have no future, Bolton. End of discussion.”
She jumped up and started cleaning the kitchen. Though she had a cleaning service three times a week, it gave her something to do, some reason to turn her back on the man who could seduce her with a single glance and steal her reason with a single smile.
He was so quiet that for a while she thought he’d gone. Then she felt his hands on her shoulders and his chest pressed against her back.
“All right, Virginia. End of discussion. At least for a while.”
She understood that he was offering a compromise. She could either take it or face the alternative: Send him away and end it right there. She didn’t know if she was too selfish, too hungry, too cowardly, or all three. All she knew was that as long as he was in Mississippi, she had to have Bolton Gray Wolf.
She patted his left hand. “You said something about going back to Tupelo to get your things.”
“Yes.” He turned her around and tipped her face up. “I’ll be back, Virginia.”
She smiled. “I never doubted for a minute that you would.”
“Good. I don’t want you to have any doubts about me.”
His tone was serious again, and she wasn’t about to tread into those deep waters. If she kept plunging in, she was liable to drown.
“Shoo.” She grabbed a dish towel and playfully swatted his legs. “Scat. If you don’t leave, I’m never going to get these oak leaves washed out of my hair.”
As soon as he was out the door, she called and canceled all appointments for the week.
o0o
Leaving Virginia was hard, even for the short while it took to drive back to Tupelo, get the rest of his gear, and take care of his motel bill. But Bolton had to go. There was something more important than his motel bill that needed taking care of.
He dialed Janice’s home number, thankful it was Sunday and he wouldn’t have to say the things that needed to be said while she was at school. Her phone rang five times, and he had almost given up when she answered.
“Bolton? How wonderful to hear from you.”
Janice’s voice was full of expectations, and Bolton felt awash with sadness. What he had to say would hurt her, and he would never intentionally hurt a flea.