Run Wild With Me

by Sandra Chastain

  “No. I take it that you and Sam came to some kind of understanding. You seem upset.”

  “No. I mean, I don’t know, Buck. I don’t seem to be very rational at the moment.”

  “I guess I can understand that,” Buck said with sadness in his voice. “I’ve been there too, Andy. I only hope he doesn’t cut your heart up in little pieces and go away and leave you to hurt. You might not be as lucky as I was. You don’t have you.”

  Andrea stood for a moment, letting the truth of Buck’s words sift through to her mind. She turned, forcing herself not to look at Sam, and brushed some grass off her trouserlegs. Quickly she pinned her damp hair into a knot at the back of her head and went to the car.

  Maybe Sam was ready to be completely honest about their relationship, but she wasn’t sure she could handle that much truth. What in the world was she going to do?

  All the way down the drive she felt Sam watching her. Her life was changing too quickly. Sam Farley had invaded her town and changed it.

  From the top of the drive Sam watched her leave. For the first time he was uncertain. He didn’t know what he felt or where the feelings were leading. What he’d shared with Andrea had been more than sex. He wanted … he wanted her back beside him, in the swing, in his house, in his bed. Beyond that he couldn’t allow himself to think.

  Examining his inner feelings was new to him.

  Admitting that he cared was a risk.

  For the first time he was beginning to understand his mother’s need for Arcadia. It was a truth that had always been there, no matter what else had happened in his life. He knew, too, that leaving wouldn’t be easy. But he’d learned the hard way that he didn’t fit into a town like this. Yet a part of it had already become a part of him.

  Seven

  At six-thirty the sun was still high in the sky and hot as sin. Sin, Andrea thought with a cynical laugh. How many people gave themselves over to pure unadulterated lust in the middle of the day and later made their way to church?

  She cut through the little patch of green trees outside the red-brick church and pushed open the door to the sanctuary, embracing coolness inside. She loved the pale green carpet and white interior, the lacy white columns and choir rails. Everything was just as she’d always remembered.

  There’d been a time when she’d been so glad to shed Arcadia’s chains of restraint that she hadn’t looked back. Simply getting off the bus from Arcadia and walking down the Atlanta streets with the promise of her whole life ahead of her had been intoxicating. Nothing could have kept her from following David. She wondered if, with Sam, she was freeing emotions that she couldn’t call back again.

  David hadn’t asked her to follow him. And in the end she’d seen the outside world for what it really was: one big seductive lie that drew you in and used you. And she’d turned away from a dream and returned to a place and people she could understand.

  But now that wicked excitement had come to Arcadia, first invading her thoughts and then her body. And she didn’t have any other place to go. Andrea sat quietly. She had to believe that she’d get through this too. He’d soon be gone, this vagabond with the dark eyes and magnetic power, and then Arcadia would be as it was before.

  Andrea straightened her shoulders and went into the Sunday-school classrooms that had been opened wide to accommodate the crowd for the choir’s program and the supper afterward. Long-legged boys with changing voices entered and milled around, secretly finding reasons to tease the girls, who gave nervous giggles in return. When Andrea walked up to the piano, her choir quickly surrounded her and waited for directions.

  By the time the program began, almost every table was full. At first the audience gasped at the unexpected rhythm of the rock music the teenagers performed, then they settled down and listened to the words of the songs. Andrea watched their surprise turn into warm acceptance and applause at the program’s end.

  The lights came up, and the minister gave a startled vote of appreciation for the “unusual” program presented by “our” young people. Everyone was eating when Andrea finally got through the rush of compliments and turned to acknowledge one last fan who’d been waiting patiently behind her.

  “Not only are you very beautiful, but you’re a lady of many talents.”

  “Sam!” She turned, unable to believe he was really there, in the church. The shock of hearing his voice was nothing compared to the shock of seeing him when she turned. Gone were the blue jeans and long hair. The man standing before her was wearing a pair of dark brown, sharply creased trousers, a cream-color short-sleeved shirt that accented his broad shoulders and small waist, and boots polished with such a shine that she could see herself in them. His face was clean-shaven, his hair neatly trimmed. He smiled merrily as he held out his hand.

  “May I share your table, Ms. Chief Fleming?”

  Madge, herding a lanky teenager toward a table, stopped short. “Andrea! You turkey. Why didn’t you tell me you had a date?”

  Andrea heard Madge, and she tried to answer. She was simply having a hard time communicating.

  Sam’s lips crinkled as he turned to Madge. “She didn’t expect me,” he explained smoothly. “I’m Sam Farley. I believe we met at the courthouse.”

  “Oh, I remember.” Madge grinned. “You’d be hard to forget in this town. Are there any more at home like you?”

  A quick grin flashed across his face, then disappeared. “No, ma’am, and it’s probably just as well. I seem to have this peculiar effect on people that renders them speechless. Do you think we should feed her, or stand her in the corner out of the traffic?”

  “Oh, the corner, definitely. That means more goodies for us.” They both moved toward Andrea, each taking an elbow as though they were going to lift her body.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Andrea finally managed. “I’m just surprised.” She glanced around at the faces in the crowd. They were all turned toward Sam Farley. A red flush started at her toes and worked its way upward. “Will you two stop it? Everybody is staring.”

  “So they are.” Sam nodded, and, placing his hand in the small of her back, pushed Andrea toward the food tables as though he’d been attending church socials for years. His broad smile covered the words he whispered under his breath. “I like the red dress, darlin’. It’s”—his voice reached a normal tone as he finished the sentence—“hot, isn’t it, Madge?”

  “Very warm,” Madge agreed, and handed Sam a plate.

  “We could use a little rain, don’t you think?”

  “Definitely. My garden is really looking bad.” Madge giggled, thoroughly enjoying the banter.

  Madge and Sam kept a running conversation going, as if they were a couple of old friends, ignoring Andrea’s silence. She was amazed that Sam seemed to be perfectly content, speaking to anybody who stopped by to inquire about the house or to discuss a carpentry job they needed to have done, as though he’d been doing it for years.

  Madge brought Sam a second helping of blackberry pie and filled their cups with coffee. “I’m sorry we didn’t know how to reach you earlier, Sam,” she said with genuine regret. “You might have been able to prevent the sale.”

  “Not your fault,” Sam said quietly. “I’ve been all over the United States, including parts of Alaska, during the past ten years. The postman just never caught up with my feet.”

  “You mean you walked? Didn’t you have a car?”

  “Nope. Couldn’t afford one. But lately I’ve been thinking about getting a truck. A carpenter ought to have a truck.”

  “You need a current license,” Andrea reminded him in a voice that sounded very official.

  “Well. She does talk.” Sam gave an exaggerated smile and clapped his hands together. “I was beginning to think you needed a stimulant of some kind, maybe a little pure artesian ice water.”

  Andrea felt a flush of heat wash across her face at the mention of the artesian water. How dare he make her think about that now, here? He was looking at her with a hint of a smile o
n his lips. “I’m sorry, Sam,” she said stiffly. “You just surprised me by coming here.”

  Sam cast a puzzled look at Andrea, then at the tables around him. “Why? Is my coming a problem for you?”

  “Of course not,” Madge said with unabashed admiration as she began to stack their plates. “Pay no attention to this ninny. She has a small problem with her head. It’s screwed on wrong.”

  “What she means, Madge, is that my coming here makes our relationship public, and that bothers her.”

  “No. I’m sorry. Of course you’re welcome, Sam. Please excuse me.” Before anyone could stop her, Andrea stood and slipped out a side door.

  She didn’t know why she’d been so rude. Her mind was a disjointed whirl of impressions that refused to be neatly cataloged. It had been bad enough that this man had come into her town, touching her and creating some mental link that forged the two of them together. Now he’d come into the safety of her world as if he belonged.

  Andrea took a deep breath, trying to calm her rapid heartbeat. She was embarrassed to admit that Sam was right. He’d made his intentions known. Outright, with no sugar-coated promises or lies secreted away to bore at her insides, he’d said he wanted her. Now he was telling the world.

  And, Lordy, he’d set her on fire, carefully nudging her with his body and his words until she’d rationalized away all sane thinking and offered herself to him. That wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t forced her. Force was the last thing he’d used. Her mind ran all around it, the ‘it’ that she didn’t want to name. She’d wanted him too.

  Desire she could deal with. But suddenly he seemed to be trying to fit in, and it was she who felt out of place. Andrea heard footsteps behind her, and she straightened up.

  “May I walk you home, Chief Fleming, ma’am?”

  She knew she’d been waiting for him to come outside. “Walk me home? That’s almost three miles.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he assured her steadily. “I’ve been told that’s what a guy does when he’s courting his lady—go for a walk in the moonlight. I figure by the time we get home, the moon’ll be just about right.”

  Andrea was too confused by Sam’s statement to protest as he placed his arm on her shoulder and began to direct her up the street. They walked for several blocks without speaking. The street lights went from transparent yellow circles to golden blobs in a black-velvet sky at the edge of town.

  “Why did you come tonight?” she asked finally. “You can’t really want to stay in Arcadia,” she said flatly. “This is just a wide place in the road, where the Wednesday-night church social is the biggest event in town. You’re intrigued right now because we’re different, but you’ll get bored and move on.”

  “Don’t tell me where I want to be,” Sam said softly. He wrapped his fingers around hers and pulled her closer. Leaving the streetlights behind, they walked along the shoulder of the road.

  The fragrance of honeysuckle and wildflowers filled the air. The last trace of gray light dropped off the side of the world, and Arcadia, Georgia, caught its breath in the twilight.

  “Andrea, I want to do this right, but I don’t have a lot of experience in pleasing a woman anywhere except in bed.” He stopped by the side of the road, stepped in front of her, and looped his hands around her waist. “If I’m way off base, I’m going to look like a fool, but if I’m not, you’re going to have to help me.”

  “I know you want to make love to me, Sam, and you already know that I want you too—too much,” she said carefully. “Just don’t try to make it into more.”

  He knew that her words were meant to be an honest acceptance of their desire. Standing there in the middle of the road with her body touching his, he knew how thick the walls were that she’d built around herself.

  “I’m not sure that I’ll be content with just taking your body, Andrea Fleming. I keep thinking that there’s so much more we could have. I want to kiss you, and touch you, and feel every part of you touching me. But I’m beginning to think that isn’t enough.”

  “It isn’t?” She stared at him, uncertain of what he was trying to say, knowing only that the tenderness of his smile was already embracing her and that she was already welcoming his kiss.

  She loved kissing him. It was never what she’d thought it would be. His lips were soft and teasing, his tongue making slow, delicious forays into her mouth until she thought she’d die of joy. His hands began their maddening assault on her skin, and she was responding as she never had before. One hand held her tightly to him, the other played across her shoulders, down her neck, and inside the top of her flame-color sundress. She gasped as she felt his touch on the sensitive skin of her breast.

  Her own hands had found their destination, first reveling in the newly shaped locks of his dark rich hair, then brushing down his firm, muscled back to hips strained tight in control.

  A swirling dizziness overcame her, and she could feel the racing of her heart—or was it Sam’s? Nothing in her life had ever affected her the way this man did. He had to be a sorcerer, some kind of warlock or magician. If this was a spell he’d cast over her, she gave herself up to the pleasure willingly.

  “Oh baby, baby!” He stepped back, hastily pulling the top of her sundress over breasts that had been bared without her being aware. “Someone’s coming, darlin’.”

  “What?”

  “A car. We’re standing in the middle of the road. Can you walk a little further?”

  “Walk?” she repeated. “Yes.” But it wasn’t as easy as she’d thought.

  The lights of the vehicle flashed brightly through the darkness and over the rise into the distance behind them. Andrea caught her breath. Sam’s kisses had left her aching and bruised, and her body cried out against the sense of loss. Feelings so long dormant had been brought to life, and she was shaking with a frustration greater than anything she’d ever known.

  Sam watched the taillights disappear into the twilight, and he pulled Andrea back into his arms.

  “Let’s get to the Bronco,” he said. “I parked it in the woods just up ahead.”

  “You borrowed the Bronco, parked it up here, and walked into town? And then asked me to walk home? You crazy man.”

  “You’re right. It was Otis. He said that all the boys walked their girls home from the social. You wanted to be courted. And I wanted to give you a normal relationship, like Ed would offer you. And I wanted to be sure that we’d have time for Otis’s alternative plan.”

  “I’m afraid to ask what that might be.”

  “A drive over to Lover’s Oak.”

  “I see.” They’d reached the turnoff, and Andrea saw the Bronco parked just ahead. “And what was to happen at Lover’s Oak?”

  “Well, according to Otis, I’m supposed to park at the water’s edge, preferably under Lover’s Oak, and we’re supposed to listen to the crickets and the lake frogs and the katydids.” He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her closer as they walked.

  “And?” Andrea couldn’t help smiling. Sam taking lessons from Otis was like Fred Astaire taking lessons from Daffy Duck.

  “And then I’m supposed to kiss you.”

  They stood facing each other, arms clasped around each other’s waists, breathing in the night air and watching the moon as it climbed high in the sky. The urgency disappeared, and there was a sense of contentment in their embrace, contentment in the pleasure of sharing something beautiful. When at last the moon was free to hurl its silvery brightness across the fields, Sam kissed her.

  He was doing it again, touching her and making her skin feel like a hundred tiny short circuits were exploding under the surface. She felt like a teenager on a secret date with the bad boy who drove the hottest car in town. But the boy wouldn’t have asked her what she wanted to do. He’d have worked out his own smooth line of conquest, and both would have pretended that nothing improper was going to happen. This bad boy was making her decide.

  “Sam,” she whispered, her throat so tight that she could hardly g
et the word out. “Nice girls don’t park at Lover’s Oak on their first date. And my legs aren’t going to carry me another two miles. Why don’t you drive me home?”

  “Whatever you say,” he agreed huskily, and helped her into the Bronco.

  On the stretch of road outside of town there were no streetlights, no houses, no cars. It was as if they were the only people in the world. “We’re all by ourselves, Andrea. I like that idea. I like it very much.”

  When he reached out, Andrea came into his arms. She rested her head against his chest without speaking.

  “Have you ever done this before?” Andrea asked with a grin, watching him maneuver the vehicle onto the highway.

  “What? Watch the moon rise with someone I … care about? No. Not quite like this.”

  “No. I mean drive with one hand.”

  “No. I know that this may come as a surprise, but the women I’ve been with always drove their own cars.”

  “That’s hard to imagine. Oh, dear.” The thought that followed had to be voiced. “Sam, Buck loaned you the Bronco when he knew your license was out of date?”

  “Now don’t spoil all this by arresting me, darlin’. I’ve already arranged to get myself a new one. Otherwise, I won’t be able to drive my truck.”

  “And how do you plan to buy a truck?”

  “Oh, never you mind. I have a plan. I have lots of plans.”

  Andrea caught her breath as he ran his finger from her chin down her breast to her nipple on one side, and then across to the other.

  “Fine. I won’t arrest you if you’ll make me a promise.”

  There was a long silence, and he knew she could feel the tension that suddenly swept through him. He was driving too fast. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to slow down. He kept his eyes on the highway, not risking even a glance toward the woman he was holding.

  “I’m not very good with promises. But I’ll try. What did you have in mind?” he asked carefully.

  “I don’t want to make love with you—tonight. And I think we both know that could happen. What I want, need … is to know you as a person. And I can’t stop kissing you long enough to find out.”