He turned to face her. “Do you deny Brent Michaels is one of them?”
She looked away, refusing to answer. What went on between her and Brent was nobody’s business but theirs.
“All right,” Greg said at long last. “I can accept that.”
“Accept what?” She frowned, thinking he seemed a little too calm all of a sudden.
“Accept,” he made a motion with his hand, “you needing to … you know…”
“What?” she asked warily.
“Well, it’s not as if this is that different than what most of us go through in college,” he said defensively. “Only you never lived on campus, so you … well … never had a chance to get it out of your system.”
“’It’?” She arched her brow. “As in what? My wild oats?”
“All I’m saying—” he stepped toward her and set her box on the floor so he could take her hands in his “—is that I understand.”
She stared at him, not believing her ears. “Understand what?”
”That you need to, well, see what’s out there before you settle down.” He gathered her hands close to his chest. “And I want you to know … I’m willing to wait until you do.”
With a snort of laughter, she pulled away. “Let me see if I get this straight. You think I’m carrying on a wild lascivious affair with Brent Michaels, and that’s hunky-dory with you, just as long as I come back to Beason’s Ferry to become your dutiful wife when I’m done?”
His brows furrowed. “This isn’t the dark ages, you know. We’ve advanced enough as a society to accept that women have the same needs as men. And you have led a rather sheltered life. I just think it’s better for you to get this out of your system before we’re married.”
She stared at him, not sure whether to be angry or amused. Even if they did have a chance to get back together, how could any man who truly loved a woman accept what he was suggesting? It suddenly dawned on her that no man could. She’d lived in a household filled with infidelity long enough to know people didn’t “accept” and “understand” that kind of betrayal without a great deal of pain. Which meant Greg didn’t love her. He thought he did, but he couldn’t possibly say such a thing if he truly loved her.
All these months she’d agonized over how to let him down gently, and he didn’t even love her!
“I don’t believe this!”
“What?” he asked with a frown.
Turning away, she made a wide gesture with her arm. “All my life I’ve sacrificed my own dreams to smooth the way for everyone else. No matter that smoothing those rough spots left me bleeding inside. As long as everyone else was happy, who cared about respectable, sensible Laura Beth?”
She whirled back to face him. “Well, Greg, you know what? I’m sick and tired of sitting here docilely while life passes me by. I happen to have a whole field of wild oats to sow, and I have every intention of sowing them. So you go ahead and wait for me. You wait just as long as you like.
“But I’m telling you this.” She poked her finger in his chest, pushing him backward until he plopped ignobly on her bed. “While you’re sitting here turning gray, I’m going to be out there grabbing hold of life with both hands to follow it wherever it takes me.”
With that, she scooped the box off the floor, gathered the one from the dresser, and marched from the room.
Chapter 17
While Laura was out of town, Brent decided that when she returned, he’d apologize for his strange fit of possessiveness and assure her such behavior was totally out of character for him, at least where women were concerned. He still didn’t understand why he’d acted the way he had, but since he wasn’t sure he wanted to understand this new quirk in his psyche, he chose not to examine the incident too closely.
That plan, however, went out the window when two days passed without a word. Bewilderment turned quickly to anger when two days turned into three. Had she decided to end their relationship because of one little fight? If that were the case, he’d be damned if he called her first. As juvenile as it sounded, even to his own mind, she’d agreed to call him when she got back to town, and he meant to stick to that agreement.
Besides, it wasn’t like he didn’t have other options for female companionship. One of the advertising sales reps at the station made eyes at him whenever they passed in the hall. Or he could call up the midday anchor at the rival station who he’d taken to a few awards functions. Except, the ad rep was too eager for his taste, and he’d never felt any real sparks for the anchorwoman.
Not like he’d felt with Laura.
By the weekend, he’d come up with several scenarios of what he’d say if Laura ever did get around to picking up the phone. First, he’d chew her out for worrying him; after all, she could be dead on the side of the road for all he knew. Not that he really believed that, but saying it would put her in the position of apologizing to him.
On Sunday evening, he worked up enough indignation to decide he wouldn’t forgive her right away when she offered that apology. He’d also started wondering if maybe she really had been in an accident.
Monday and Tuesday he could barely concentrate on work as images played in his head of her broken body lying in some hospital bed with no one thinking to contact him.
Unfortunately, that little scene shared equal billing with one of her calling him up to say she’d changed her mind about moving to Houston and had decided to stay home and marry the blond wimp with the wire-rim glasses.
By Thursday night, his stomach was tied in so many knots, he didn’t even care if she had decided to stay in Beason’s Ferry and raise a dozen kids with another man—if only she’d call. He lay awake, staring into the darkness with sweat sticking the sheets to his body, wishing he knew how to pray. At that moment, he’d have offered God anything just to know Laura was safe. As dawn crept through the window of his bedroom, he realized he couldn’t go on like this. One way or another, he had to know she was all right—even if she chewed him out and called him an overprotective jerk and said she never wanted to see him again.
Besides, in addition to being worried sick, he missed her. At some point during the lonely hours of the night, he realized a part of him had missed her for years. She was the only person he’d ever felt truly comfortable around. He was tired of having to watch every word he said for fear people would find out he was a fake. Laura already knew he was a fake, and for some reason she liked him anyway.
He needed that in his life. Seeing Laura again had made him realize that, for all his vast circle of acquaintances, he had no real friends. He was as alone in the world now as he’d been as a kid. And he was tired of being alone.
—
Laura glanced up from her computer screen as Cathy, the physician’s assistant, entered her office. “You all done for the day?” she asked.
“With the patients, at least,” Cathy answered as she went to the locker behind Laura’s desk to collect her street clothes. Since the doctor didn’t see patients past noon on Friday, the staff frequently took a long lunch before returning to tackle any makeup work they had to do. “I promise you, though, things aren’t always as crazy as they were this week. We just wanted to break you in right.”
“You definitely did that.” Laura chuckled, thinking of how hectic the week had been. For that, she was grateful, since she’d been too busy to think about Brent more than—well, a couple hundred times a day. Her brow puckered as she tried for the millionth time to understand what had happened between them. She couldn’t believe things were over before they’d really even started. And all because of one argument. What else was she to think, though, when the days continued to slip by without one word from him?
“Oh, man, would you look at that,” Cathy exclaimed from behind her. When Laura glanced over her shoulder, she found the nurse staring out the window that overlooked the parking lot. “Hey, Margarita!” Cathy called loud enough for the other nurse in the outer area to hear. “Come check this out!”
Margarita strolled i
nto Laura’s office, looking frazzled from a morning of sick children and fretting parents. “I’m done restocking the exam rooms,” she told Laura. “Unless you have anything else for me to do, I’m headed for lunch.”
“No, that’s fine,” Laura said.
“No, wait.” Cathy waved a hand toward her coworker as she stared down at the parking lot. “You got to see this.”
Dragging her feet, Margarita went to the window, then stiffened to full alert. “Papacito! Now that’s what I call one gorgeous baby.”
“Good enough to make me drool,” Cathy said.
Laura cast the women a puzzled frown. While her coworkers frequently cooed over a particularly cute child, their voices had a decidedly avaricious edge to them.
“Dios mio!“ Margarita stood on tiptoes to keep the “baby” in view as it moved beneath the window. “I think he’s coming up here.”
“No way!” Cathy jostled the other woman aside to get a better view. “What would he be doing coming into a place like this?”
“I don’t know.” Margarita craned her neck to see over Cathy’s shoulder. “But if he does come in, I get to take his temperature.”
“Personally, I’d rather give him a temperature.”
Laura stifled a grin as understanding dawned. During her first week and a half of work, the two women had provided her with an endless source of amusement. While they could hash men with the best of them, they quickly changed their tune whenever a particularly fine-looking male came into sight.
Apparently, the most recent cause of their combined high blood pressure moved out of the field of vision, for they gave twin sighs of disappointment and turned from the window.
“So, Laura,” Cathy asked, “you going to Loose Willie’s with us?”
Loose Willie’s, she had learned, was a hole-in-the-wall bar where the staff went for their long Friday lunches and happy hour after work. “No, I still have to fill out this insurance appeal and make out the deposit. Maybe you could bring me something back, though.”
“Not me. Dr. V gave me the afternoon off,” Margarita said. “So come on, Laura, come with us.”
Laura’s first impulse was to say no. Aside from being busy, she had the distinct impression that Loose Willie’s wasn’t much more respectable than Snake’s Pool Palace back in Beason’s Ferry. But wasn’t that what her declaration of independence was all about? To do what she wanted when she wanted with whom she wanted?
“You know,” she said, smiling, “I believe I will join you.”
Before Margarita could respond, the receptionist, Tina, poked her head around the door. “Psst!” Tina’s eyes looked wide as saucers, and her voice came out as a frantic stage whisper. “Laura!”
“Yes, Tina?” Laura frowned. “What is it?”
“There’s a man here to see you.”
Laura’s skin prickled as Cathy and Margarita went perfectly still behind her. “Did he give a name?”
“Didn’t have to,” Tina said. “I recognized him from the news. He’s, you know, that Michael Somebody?”
Laura’s heart skipped a beat, then galloped ahead. After a week and a half of willing the phone to ring, the last thing she expected was for Brent to show up in person. Had he come to make up or to break things off officially?
“Tell him I’ll be right there,” she managed in a hollow voice.
To give her body a minute to stop trembling, she restacked the patient charts on her desk. She could feel Cathy and Margarita watching her and feared they saw through her calm act. Nevertheless, she rose on shaky legs, smoothed her tailored linen skirt, and headed for the reception area.
The minute she turned the corner, she saw him, and her lungs swelled with air, making her feel light-headed. He stood in the middle of the cluttered room amid the jumble of toys and miniature plastic furniture. He had his hands in his pockets and a frown on his face. She’d never seen a man look so out of his element, yet so compellingly masculine. The only thing that kept her from bursting with joy at the sight of him was the scowl on his face as he took in the shabby decor. Apparently, his opinion of her chosen workplace hadn’t changed.
“Hello, Brent,” she said in her coolest voice, folding her hands before her.
His head snapped up. For one instant, relief washed over his features, followed by emotions too startling to name. But the look vanished quickly, hidden behind that slow, sexy smile he’d perfected over the years. His gaze traveled downward, making her aware of the new wardrobe she’d purchased. Though similar to her old style, the sage-green skirt, loose jacket, and white silk tank-top seemed brighter and younger than the colors she usually wore. She’d even splurged and bought high-heeled sandals to finish the outfit.
The journey of his gaze stalled halfway between the short hem of her skirt and her new shoes. “I, uhm—” he began, then blinked and raised his eyes to hers. “I was in the neighborhood.”
The mischievous gleam in his eyes told her the words were a blatant lie. Brent Michael Zartlich was the most exasperating, confusing, unpredictable person she’d ever known. She should be furious with him for not calling. And yet, she realized with chagrin, she couldn’t stay mad at the man any more than she’d ever stayed mad at the boy.
Not that she was going to let him off the hook that easily. She raised an eyebrow. “Were you now?”
“Actually,” he tipped his head slightly, “it’s a gorgeous day, and I was in the mood for a picnic. I understand you close at noon, and since I happen to know a great spot on Buffalo Bayou, I thought I’d try to persuade you to join me. A man can’t have a proper picnic by himself.” As he came slowly toward her, she saw something flicker beneath his playful expression, some glimpse of loneliness and need that tugged her heart. “So what would you say to joining me.”
He didn’t stop approaching until he stood directly before her. She caught the scent of his aftershave, the freshly laundered fragrance of his clothes, and a hint of musky maleness. The enticing scents awakened memories that made her knees tingle. She closed her eyes, but the lack of sight only made the images more vivid.
She remembered too clearly the feel of his hands caressing her skin, the touch of his lips, the sound of her own gasps of pleasure.
“Have lunch with me, Laura.” The softly spoken words strummed her senses. This man disarmed her too quickly, too completely. Could her heart survive another effortless fall into his arms—only to be left alone again.
“I … can’t. Really. Just because we stop seeing patients at noon doesn’t mean I have the rest of the day off. Besides, I promised the nurses I’d go with them to lunch.”
“Shoot, Laura,” Cathy called from behind her, “Dr. V won’t mind if you take a long lunch, and you can go with us anytime.”
“There, you see,” Brent said. “You’re free after all.”
“I don’t know,” she stalled, wanting to be with him but fearing it, too. He had the power to wound her too easily. And if he cared for her, if he really wanted to be with her, why hadn’t he called?
“I see.” He gave a resigned sigh. When she looked up, she saw his mask had fallen in place. Could he possibly be as hurt and confused as she? “Never mind, then. I just thought…”
He started to step away, stopped, then turned back.
“Ah hell, Laura, have lunch with me. Just this once. I—” His gaze flickered toward the hallway behind her, and his voice lowered. “I have some things I really need to say, and I’d prefer to say them in private.”
If he hadn’t put the emphasis on the word need, she might have resisted.
“Very well.” She sighed in exasperation, then gave him a mock scowl. “On one condition.”
“Ah! Here it comes.” He slapped a hand to his chest as if wounded. How quickly he bounced back to the playful charmer. “Okay. Go ahead. Shoot.”
“You let me drive.”
“You want me to leave my car in this neighborhood?” He looked so incredulous, she nearly laughed.
“No, silly. I meant
you let me drive your car.”
His eyes widened for several seconds, before he took a breath as if bracing himself. “All right. You’re on.”
—
Brent kept the conversation on nothing more important than Laura getting settled as Melody’s roommate as she maneuvered the yellow convertible through the harrowing Houston traffic. Even if he’d wanted to discuss something more intimate, he was too busy gripping the armrest and trying to look calm. Although, he had to admit, Laura drove with a swift aggression that surprised him. She looked entirely at home, and sexy as hell, slumped low in the leather seat with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the gearshift as the wind played with her hair.
When they reached the bayou, which ran like a river just north and west of downtown, he retrieved the bag of deli sandwiches and a blanket from the backseat.
“Oh, this is perfect,” she said, climbing out of the car.
“Yes, I thought—” he glanced up in time to see her remove her suit jacket; the silk tank-top beneath bared her shoulders and a good deal of her back “—you’d like it.”
His thoughts remained scattered as he led them to a secluded spot in the shade. They spread a blanket on the grassy shore where joggers and bicyclists moved by in a constant stream. Yet there under the oak tree, watching the sunlight dance through the leaves to play upon her hair, he felt isolated, as if they existed in a world all their own.
As they ate, he racked his brain for how to ease into the speech he’d rehearsed. He glanced sideways and found her watching the ducks that scavenged for scraps along the bank. He wanted to stay that way forever, quietly sitting beside her with no hurt emotions to come between them. As the silence stretched on, though, he saw her picking at her sandwich more than eating it. They couldn’t possibly be comfortable together until they cleared the air. He wanted that comfort—even more than be feared her answer to his opening question.
Pulling his eyes away from her nearly naked shoulders he braced himself. “Laura, why didn’t you call when you got back in town?”
A heartbeat passed before she turned toward him with a startled look. “What?”
Drive Me Wild Page 17