by Webb, Peggy
"Aren't you going to eat, too?" she asked.
"No."
She was acutely aware that he wasn't going to make this easy for her. She thought of all the narrow escapes she'd had, all the windows she climbed out of, all the apartments she had fled in the middle of the night. This time, though, there would be no escape. Hunter was the kind of man who got exactly what he wanted.
The silence thundered around them.
"I hate peanut butter." The sound of her own voice was small comfort in the agony of defeat that surrounded her. At this point it didn't matter that she would sleep in Hunter's bed and then leave for Paris. It didn't matter that she might leave him with a broken heart again. It didn't matter that she might make him pay for the past. What mattered was the crushing defeat of coming so close to building something beautiful on the ashes of the past, only to have it torn away by a few angry words.
They were careless people after all, she and Hunter. Love was such a fragile thing, and they didn't know how to treat it with care. She had the frightening realization that she was reliving Victoria's life. Now she was the one seeking to find meaning through casual liaisons. Except that Hunter wasn't casual. He was so much a part of her that she felt as if she were lacerating herself.
She put her half-eaten sandwich on the plate. Now was not the time for regrets. Hunter was watching her with that look of pure sex in his eyes, and she had the rest of the day and tomorrow before she returned to Paris. She stood up.
"Which bedroom, Hunter?"
"This way." He took her elbow and led her down the hall.
In the bedroom she turned her back to him, stripped off her blouse, and threw it across a chair. She felt his eyes on her back. Turning around, she gave him a cold stare. He was leaning against the doorframe.
"Aren't you coming in?" she asked.
"You've done nothing to make me want to come in, Mattie. For a practiced hoyden, your style lacks finesse."
She flew across the room and struck his chest with her fists. He caught her wrists. "I thought this was what you wanted."
She kicked his shin. "Let go of me."
He held her fast. "Are you trying to tell me you've changed your mind? Are you trying to say this is not the way you want us to be, cold and calculating and vengeful?"
"Turn me loose." She felt her breath whoosh out as he scooped her into his arms and held her tightly against his chest. He kicked the door shut, then stalked across the room and dumped her unceremoniously onto the bed. Then she was crushed beneath his weight.
"I don't intend to let you go, Mattie. I've already told you that. We can have this any way you want it—your way or mine."
"And what is yours, Hunter? To get some helpless woman pregnant and deny the child?"
His eyes went as black as doom. "You know about the paternity suit." It was not a question.
"It was headline news."
"Trumped-up garbage always is." He shifted himself off her, rolling onto his side and pinning her down with his legs.
She struggled to rise.
"You're not going anywhere until you hear the truth, Mattie. I think it's high time there was truth between us."
"Save your breath, Hunter. You lied to me ten years ago. I have no reason to believe anything you say is the truth."
"We’ll let the past go for now. It's the present I want to set straight. Let's level with each other about our reputations."
"My fifteen lovers, you mean?"
"Dammit! Forget that remark. I don't care if you've had fifteen lovers or fifteen hundred. I'm still going to marry you."
"I won't be another of your playthings, Hunter."
"Do you want to know how many lovers I've had in the last ten years, Mattie?"
She covered her ears and shut her eyes. "No!"
"You're going to hear the truth whether you want to or not." He peeled her hands away from her ears. "I've had two. In all the years you've been gone, I've found solace with only two women. And they were damned poor substitutes for you."
In spite of herself, she was interested. "I saw pictures in the society pages, Hunter. Do you deny all those others?"
"Yes. They were merely social climbers I kept happy with a kiss on the lips and a pat on the butt."
"And what about the child, Hunter? Do you also deny your own child?"
"I have no child. When Andrea brought the paternity suit against me, I almost wished it were mine. But it wasn't true. We'd been lovers, all right. For six months. But Dad's investigators were thorough. They discovered that Andrea hadn't been faithful. She had a little something going on the side. A night club manager. He'd moved in the month I was away on business. The time of conception wasn't right for me to have been the father. Also, there have been advances made in methods of testing for paternity. The blood tests proved beyond a doubt that he was the father. Andrea and Wayne both knew that. They saw opportunity in the form of the Chadwick bank account."
Hunter caught her face between his hands. "Open your eyes and look at me, Mattie."
She opened one eye, then shut it. "I don't care, Hunter."
"Yes, you do." His hands became gentle as he caressed her face. "Your skin is clammy, Mattie. There's no need to be afraid."
"I'm not afraid."
"I think you are. Why?"
Her eyes flew open. "Because I don't want you to be fine and good and noble. I want you to be a callous rake so I can hate you."
"You don't hate me, do you, Mattie?"
"No," she whispered. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "Heaven help me. Hunter, I've fallen in love with you again."
The sunshine of his smile lit up the room.
"That's all I need to know, Mattie. That you love me."
She bit her lip as indecision ripped at her. "I'm not ready for this, Hunter. In spite of what you've said, I can't let go of my old feelings so easily."
"I won't hurt you. I’ll never hurt you again." His expression was unbearably tender as he looked down at her. He smoothed her hair back from her forehead, stroked her cheeks, traced her lips. "There will be no more games between us." He sat up, pulling her with him. "Put on your blouse, Mattie."
"Why?"
"I'm taking you out for a proper dinner. Candlelight and violins and waiters who fall in the soup trying to be helpful. And while we're there you can talk of anything you please. Or not talk at all, if that pleases you."
"And afterward?"
"We’ll come back here and start all over again. Only this time, there'll be nothing between us except the truth."
CHAPTER EIGHT
"Only two, Hunter?" Mattie asked. She looked up from her soup and wondered how she could ever have denied her feelings for this tender teddy-bear man.
"Only two what?"
"You know what I'm talking about."
"Candlelight becomes you, Mattie."
"Candlelight makes you look yummy gorgeous, Hunter, but you still didn't answer my question."
He smiled at her over the rim of his wineglass. "I think I'll start carrying candles in my pockets. Flattery will get you everywhere, princess."
"Hunter!"
He laughed, loving her impatience, loving her interest in him. "Yes. Only two."
"I'm jealous of them both. I hope they had baggy butts and bad breath and warts."
"Only warts."
She toyed with her soup, then finally gave up all pretense of eating. A waiter whisked it away when the spoon was barely out of her hand. She laughed.
"You were right about these waiters, Hunter. That one did almost fall into my soup."
"You know what I've missed most about you, Mattie?"
"My elegant body?"
"Your laughter." He reached across the table and stroked her long fingers. "Nobody in the world laughs like you, full-throated and uninhibited. I used to hear it in my dreams. I'd get out of bed and walk to the window to see if you were standing in Phillip's courtyard. Sometimes I'd imagine I heard it on the street, and I'd follow the sound.
He grinned. "I've chased more strange women down the street that way. Caught a few of them, too. Got me into a heap of trouble. One of them even hit me with her purse and called me a pervert."
Mattie loved it. She loved his humor, his confessions, his sincerity, his honesty. She loved knowing that he, too, had been holding onto a dream. She loved knowing that his lovers had been substitutes, attempts to blot out their summer romance. And she knew it was time for her own confession.
"You know what I've missed most about you, Hunter?"
"My prodigious part?"
They both burst into laughter. It was an old joke between them. Once they'd whiled away a sunny afternoon on the beach thinking of new and bizarre ways to describe each other. Two of their favorites had been her doorway to paradise and his prodigious part. They laughed so hard, they never even noticed the waiter bringing their salad.
"No," she finally said. "Your eyes. Everything you're thinking shows in those black eyes. I used to search other dark eyes, hoping I'd see that gleam of amber yours always had when you were feeling happy or passionate." She smiled. "I was hoping to find that look you have right now."
"Did you, Mattie?"
She ignored the question. "And your voice, Hunter. Sometimes when you speak I feel as if I've been caressed by velvet. In ten years, I could never forget that voice."
Hope soared in him. He held her hand tightly, not speaking, afraid of breaking the fragile trust he could sense growing between them. With the strength of his hand, he communicated his need and his love.
"I tried so hard to hate you," she continued. "And at first I did. But after all the rage had subsided, I knew that you were still a part of me. What we had together— the discovery of first love—could never be forgotten. And so I tried to replace you. I came close with the Russian prince."
She squeezed his hand and drew a deep breath. There was no turning back now. Whatever happened, she was committed to telling the truth. At least a part of it. She still couldn't bring herself to discuss what had happened ten years ago. It was best forgotten. He'd been young, and her mother . . . No, she decided. She just wouldn't think about it. The revenge she'd thought she wanted had somehow been changed to forgiveness. And it felt good. It felt so good that she didn't want to disturb it.
"Hunter?"
"What is it, Mattie?"
"Do you truly love me?"
"I love you more than I ever thought possible. All the things you are have wrapped around my heart and bound me forever. I loved you when you were eighteen, I love you now, and I’ll love you when you're ninety-five." He lifted her hand to his lips. "And I don't ever intend to let you go."
The touch of his lips branded her, and she was his.
"There was never anyone except you," she said quietly.
Hunter felt the shock of her words all the way down to his toes. His hand tightened on hers.
"Mattie?"
"Lord knows I tried. I wanted to fall in love again. And when that didn't work, I even tried to be casual and sophisticated and nonchalant about the whole thing." She laughed. "My reputation far exceeds my exploits. I've climbed out more windows and shinned down more trees than a cat burglar." Her green eyes sparkled at him over the untouched salad. "I love you, Hunter. I don't think I ever stopped."
"Aren’t you hungry, Mattie?"
"Only for you."
He pulled her up with one hand and reached into his pocket with the other. He tossed a hundred-dollar bill on the table, then hastened her through the restaurant. He didn't even notice their waiter running along behind them, sputtering and red-faced and astonished.
The waiter caught up with them in the foyer. If it hadn't been such a high-class establishment, he probably would have shouted. But he had been well trained in circumspect behavior. "Sir," he said.
Hunter turned. "The money's on the table. Eat the lobster yourself. Call your girl and share it with her. This is a celebration. Compliments of Hunter Chadwick."
Hunter didn't let go of Mattie's hand even when they got into the car. He held on while he turned the key and still held on as he backed out of the parking space.
"Handy talent to have," he said, smiling at her. "Driving with one hand." They whizzed through the night, wrapped in a cocoon of love.
"Don't ever let go, Hunter," she said. The firm touch of his hand conveyed such strength, such purpose, such promise, that she wanted to feel it always, through her times of sunshine and through her times of darkness.
"I won't, Mattie."
"Even if I forget how much I love you, promise you won't ever let me go."
"I promise." He lifted her hand to his lips. "I don't intend to be away from you long enough for you to forget."
"Remember how it was the first time we loved?"
"Yes. You were scared."
"I was not. You were the one who had goose bumps."
"That's because of what your hands were doing to my prodigious part."
She laughed. "As I recall, you did a few wonderful things yourself."
"I plan to do even better this time around."
"If it's any better, Hunter, you can just cover my body with gardenias and tell everybody I've gone on to paradise."
"I plan to cover your body with more than gardenias." He guided her hand down his flat stomach and into his lap.
As her hand moved, the car swerved perilously near a ditch. Still using only one hand on the wheel, Hunter got them back on the road.
“Did anybody ever tell you that you're a wicked woman?"
The tires squealed as he turned into his driveway.
"Hurry and park the car," she said. "I plan to show you just how wicked I can be."
They ran together across the moonlit yard and into his dark apartment. He stopped inside the door and pulled her into his arms.
"Do you hear something, Mattie?"
She snuggled her head into the wonderful indentation just over his heart. And she knew contentment. "What?"
"I hear the bed. It's calling our names."
Her arms circled his neck as she looked up at him. "I've missed you, sweet teddy-bear man."
"And I've missed you, my beautiful summer jazz woman."
Their kiss was like coming home. It was summer sunshine and soft sea breezes and first love rediscovered. It was jazz and laughter and dreams remembered. And it was more, much, much more. It was love affirmed and promises renewed. It was trust and respect and forgiveness.
Hunter devoured her lips, trying to make up for ten years in one heady moment.
"Do you know how long I've waited for this?" he asked. "How often I've dreamed of this?" He pulled her so close, she felt as if their hearts meshed. "When I think of those wasted years!"
She tangled her hands in his hair. "Forget the empty years. Love me, Hunter."
He lifted her and carried her down the hallway to his bedroom. Even in the dark she could see the gleam in his eyes, that amber gleam that had followed her across an ocean and through a span of lonely years. She wanted to laugh and to cry. But most of all she wanted to be loved by this man.
He kicked the door shut behind them. For a moment he was still, holding her against his thundering heart.
"Forgive me, Mattie, for waiting so long."
He didn't need to say more. That simple statement encompassed all the stubbornness and false pride and guilt and misunderstanding that had separated them.
"I forgive you, Hunter."
She forgave him more than the waiting. She forgave the past, freeing herself to love again.
He let her slide down his body until her feet touched the floor. He still held her so close that his heartbeat felt like her own. They clung to each other in the moonlight, their eyes saying a thousand things.
Suddenly he moved. His hands unbuttoned and unzipped and unhooked. Their clothes fell in a tangled heap at their feet. He carried her to the bed and lowered her into the patch of moonlight that was spilling across the covers.
"You're a dream co
me true," he said.
She lifted her arms to him. "Lie with me. I'm real."
He knelt beside her, discovering her with his hands. His fingertips glided across her cheekbones, traced her lips, outlined her chin. "I remember your skin. Soft, so soft."
She pressed his hands to her face. "And I remember your hands, the gentleness, the strength. Your touch makes me feel safe, Hunter."
He lay down beside her, pulling her into his arms, smoothing her fire-and-sunshine hair. He rocked her against his body, feeling the way they fit together, custom-made for each other, loving how she responded to his touch, reveling in her long legs wrapping around his, trim and silken and parted.
"Always, 1 remembered how that felt," she whispered.
"Do you remember this, Mattie?" He kissed her in all her secret places. “And this?” He joined them with a tender certainty that was like coming home.
He was her first love, her only love. It had been ten years and it had been only yesterday. His touch was as familiar and cherished as a favorite childhood toy. And yet it was new. Exciting. And almost unbearably erotic.
The pattern of moonlight moved down the bed as Hunter and Mattie renewed their love. When it had settled around their feet, their cries of fulfillment shattered the stillness.
She lay slack across his chest, her hair covering his cheek, her legs tangled with his.
He kissed her damp forehead. "Delicious."
She caressed his face. "Remarkable."
"Stupendous."
"Yummy."
"Mind-boggling."
"Magic."
He laughed. "A Hunter Chadwick super-special."
She reached down and pinched his backside. "Has anybody ever told you that you're the most arrogant man in Texas?"
"But you love it, don't you, Mattie?"
"Yes." She nuzzled his neck. "I don't think we can ever make up for all those lost years."
He held her close. "We have the rest of our lives, Mattie."
She raised herself on her elbows and grinned down at him. "I was thinking more in terms of tonight."
"You were, were you?"
"Yes."
"I think I can manage that." He moved his hips, and the magic started all over again. It lasted until the first rosy blush of dawn began to pink the sky, and finally they slept.