“I know.” She grinned.
“Oh.”
“I’ve gotten past that. Actually, I think it made me work harder to prove you wrong.” Her eyes held his in challenge.
“That you did, Dr. Lane. Without a doubt.”
“So, now what?”
“You’re the doctor. What’s your remedy for this situation?”
“Let’s see, I’d say take one date and talk about it in the morning.”
His stomach clenched at the provocative look that had suddenly darkened her eyes.
“When do you think you’ll be ready to fill out that prescription?”
“How about Sunday?”
“Whatever the doctor orders. Just be prepared to write out a whole pad of refills.”
She laughed. Maybe Tre Holland was what the doctor should have ordered a long time ago.
Chapter 5
That first Sunday was just the beginning of many long, lazy afternoons, excursions to museums, tours of the White House—something neither of them had seen even though they’d lived in D.C. all their lives—local jazz concerts, brunches, plenty of awful movies, which they debated furiously about after each one. And before either of them realized what was happening, they’d begun building their lives and activities around each other, around their schedules, adjusting to quirky behaviors like Tre’s habit of mumbling to himself when he had things on his mind. At first Summer thought she was losing her hearing, until she realized that he wasn’t talking to her. Or Summer’s penchant for constantly making verbal observations and assessments about everyone and everything. In the beginning Tre thought it would drive him mad, but then he started getting into it himself, and they’d have hour-long conversations about what they thought so-’n-so’s problem was. Often Tre was right on target with his basic street sense and keen eye for people. But Summer would never give in and tell him so.
They’d been seeing each other for about six weeks, and so far no one at the office had made any comments on the unusual amount of time Tre was spending at the station on his designated days off. He’d even broken down and became a regular listener of her show and had to admit, Summer Lane was something else.
To make life even sweeter, the harassing phone calls from James had slowed then stopped altogether. Her ratings were rising, and Stan was sure that by Christmas she would have regained her audience and recaptured the crown as number one. Most of all she was happy, happier than she’d ever been, and she knew Tre was at the center of her happiness. He went out of his way to make special plans for them. He’d pick her up after her set at 2:00 a.m. and take her home, even though he had to drag himself out of bed to do it. “I never liked the idea of your driving home alone at that time of night, even when I wasn’t sure if I liked you,” he’d said. He’d buy her funny little cards, just to remind her that he was thinking of her. She’d find a single piece of chocolate on her chair when she came in to work, or he’d give her a yellow rose when they met for lunch. Whenever he got her alone, he’d kiss her until she was nearly senseless, stirring up the tide of emotions she hadn’t put into action in longer than she cared to remember. His touch fired her skin, his voice soothed her soul, his laughter brightened her day. He was attentive, affectionate, protective, funny. She was falling in love.
“I told you all you needed was to give yourself a chance, Summer,” Kia said, twisting her hair into a French roll.
Summer curled up on Kia’s lounge chair in the bedroom, a soft smile framing her mouth. “You know I hate to admit it when you’re right. But you were.”
“Of course I was right. You may have all that book sense, but I’ve got it up here—” she tapped her temple “—when it comes to affairs of the heart.”
Summer grinned. “Okay, don’t rub it in.”
“So you two are going away for Thanksgiving, huh?”
“We’re leaving after we have dinner with his sister and her family.”
“Ooh, meeting the family. That’s a big move, girlfriend.”
“I know. I’m kind of nervous. He talks about his sister all the time. They seem to be really close. I want her to like me.”
“Why wouldn’t she?”
“Well, you know. She’s been like a mother to him since their parents died. She may feel threatened by our relationship. Maybe think I was taking him away from her.”
Kia turned around and put her hand on her hip, looking at Summer from a forty-five-degree angle. “Girl, you need to stop. You don’t even know the woman, and already you’re busy analyzing. Give her a chance.”
Summer blew out a breath. “You’re right.”
“A-gain. Just enjoy yourself.”
Diane Holland-Pratt was everything Tre had described. She was funny, protective, and loved her brother to distraction and had no qualms about telling him and anyone else who would listen just what was on her mind. Her husband, Jeff, was a doll—and their two little girls made her think about her own ticking biological clock.
“I’m glad things are working out with you and Tre,” Diane confided when she and Summer were cleaning up the kitchen after their Thanksgiving feast. “He needs someone positive in his life so he can settle down…again.”
Summer frowned. “Again?”
“Oops. I guess he never told you about Desiree.”
“Desiree?” The hairs on the back of her neck began to tingle.
“Yes. His high school sweetheart. Married her right out of college and well…let’s just say Ms. Girl hadn’t finished running around.” She rinsed a dish and stuck it in the dishwasher. Slowly she shook her head. “Really messed Tre up. It took him a long time to get over what she did to him. He hasn’t been serious about anyone since.” She turned and looked at Summer. “Until he met you. Every other thing he talks about has your name in it since the two of you got together. I think you’re good for him. Matter of fact, I told him that months ago.”
“You did?”
“Oh, yeah. I could tell he was interested because he acted like he wasn’t. I told him he needed to ask you out, or at least ask you what a guy like him needed to do to find a woman like you.”
Summer laughed. “You’re kidding.”
“Not hardly.” She paused a moment, then leaned against the sink. “Summer, Tre may come across as a man who has it all together. He may seem tough on the outside, but underneath, he has a heart of gold. All he needs is someone to nurture it, take care of him. Don’t hurt him, Summer. I don’t think he’ll recover from it next time.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“You have a wonderful family, Tre. Thanks for inviting me.”
He leaned across the gearshift of the car and kissed her lightly on the lips. “I wanted them to see how happy you’ve made me, Summer, and I wanted you to be a part of my life that is really special to me.”
Her throat tightened. She stroked his cheek. “You don’t know how much that means to me. My family and me, well…we’re not close. Holidays are usually a lonely time for me.”
He leaned closer, cupped her face in his hands, and looked into her eyes. “If I have anything to say about it, all those lonely holidays, lonely nights and mornings will be a thing of the past. Starting tonight.”
He lowered his head to meet her lips, tentatively in the beginning, as if they were sharing their first kiss, then with more pressure until her lips softened, separated, opened for him. Their tongues met, retreated, taunted, danced a slow dance while their hearts played a disco beat.
Slowly Tre pulled back. “Guess we’d better get moving,” he said in a rough whisper.
Summer swallowed then nodded her head. Her heart was stampeding in her chest.
Tre pulled the car into traffic and headed for the cabin in Virginia. He’d been planning this getaway for weeks. He wanted everything to be perfect.
A soft sprinkling of snow began to fall. They looked at each other and smiled.
The drive from D.C. to Comptons Store, Virginia, was a leisurely two hours filled with easy conversation,
breathtaking scenery slowly being covered with the first dusting of snow, and the sight of the residents walking along the shore of Bull Run River.
When they pulled up in front of the cabin, Summer let out a breath of awe. Like a little kid, she jumped out of the car and stood in front of the sprawling ranch-style cabin, less than a mile away from the lake, shrouded by weeping willows and gentle slopes. It looked like something right off a postcard. She spun around and stared open-mouthed at Tre.
He stood by the car, grinning, filled with a deep sense of happiness just watching her joy.
“Tre, it’s beautiful,” she cried and ran into his arms.
He swung her around. “You’re not hard to please. You haven’t even seen the inside yet.” She giggled and he pecked her on the lips, then set her on her feet. He took her hand. “Come on. I’m dying to see how you treat me when you see the rest.”
Hand-in-hand they took the tour of the expansive abode. Every room offered a spectacular view of the Virginia landscape or views of the rolling river.
The kitchen was fully stocked and loaded with all the kitchen gadgets to keep Summer in a state of eternal euphoria. The living room boasted a real wood-burning fireplace, a wall-to-wall glass window, with low-hanging ceiling rafters of gleaming oak and a thirty-two-inch television.
There were two bedrooms. The master bedroom should have been photographed for House Beautiful magazine. A huge brass bed, adorned with a mint-green down comforter, contrasted perfectly with the green and wine colored paisley drapes and pale green carpet, so thick it could tickle your ankles. A six-drawer dresser in black lacquer trimmed in brass to match the bed and a six-foot armoire as its companion took up the space in perfect balance. The bath, tucked away to the left of the bedroom rivaled any major spa, with its Jacuzzi, his and her sinks, and a stall shower big enough for a small dinner party.
“This place is fabulous,” Summer enthused when they’d returned to the living room. “How long have you had it?”
He supposed now was as good a time as any to tell her about Desiree. “Can I fix you a drink?”
“White wine if you have it.” She watched his body language as he took two champagne flutes from an overhead rack and filled them with chilled wine, then joined her on the modular couch, and knew he was struggling with whatever he needed to tell her.
“Thanks.” She took a sip.
“I was married,” he began slowly. “I purchased this place after the divorce, sort of a cleansing, I suppose.” He took her through his high school infatuation, the crazy college years, and his graduation marriage, pausing intermittently to take a sip of his wine or stare out through the window, as if the retelling of the story were too painful to reveal.
“We were married for about two years when things really started coming apart.” He leaned forward, bracing his arms on his thighs, his thick cable-knit sweater seeming to ripple along his broad back. “I guess I saw it long before then and just didn’t want to believe it. We grew apart, and one day I walked in and someone had taken my place—literally. It took me a long time to get over that, Summer. Sometimes I still don’t know if I have.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “I guess you could say my trust level is really low. I’ve spent the past five years in relationship limbo, dealing with women I didn’t expect much from. That’s exactly what I got, and I gave the same in return: next to nothing.”
“What about now?”
He turned to look at her. Her gaze was steady, probing. “I’m not sure. All I do know is that I don’t want to keep going through life the way I’ve been going. I want more than to wake up next to a warm body only to discover I don’t remember her name.”
“What is the more that you want, Tre?” She knew the psychologist in her was coming out, but it was important to her to hear him say the words, she reasoned, and more important for him to hear himself say them.
He reached out and gently stroked her cheek, his eyes skipping across her face. “I want to try with you, Summer. Since you came into my life, I’ve started to feel like I wanted to live it again, share it and make it grow. But you’ve got to want it too.” He paused. “Do you?”
She moved closer to him, took his chin in her hand, and pulled him toward her. “That’s the best offer I’ve had in a long time,” she whispered a moment before her lips joined his.
That kiss was the bond, the part that sealed the unspoken promise between them, which erupted from a small burning ember to an engulfing blaze, spreading through their limbs, escaping through the heat of their touch, fanned by hushed words and muffled moans.
Somehow they found their way to the bedroom, leaving a trail of discarded clothing in their wake. That first instant of contact, bare flesh against bare flesh, was as startling as a bolt of lightning.
Summer moaned when the shudders rippled through her. Tre pulled her closer, longing to make her body one with his, but he took his time, exploring, exciting, memorizing the way her body responded when he touched her like…that—oooh—or when he kissed her…right there—yessss.
But nothing could have prepared him for the rush of sensations that wreaked havoc with his body when he found himself buried within her. He nearly cried.
And she did. Tears of bliss slid unbidden from her eyes as the ebb and flow of their union lifted her from that earthly place and held her captive, suspended on the precipice of release. She wanted to jump, succumb to the giddy, exhilarating ride but would Tre be there to catch her, soothe her fears?
She couldn’t wait any longer, the tide kept pounding against the shore, she moved closer to the edge, could almost see forever when she stepped off, hurtling through a kaleidoscope of spiraling sensations, brilliant lights, and finally sublime ecstasy that rocked her body leaving her weak and powerful at the same time—and yes, Tre was there to catch her.
“I don’t know how much of that I can take,” Tre groaned in her ear as they spooned around each other. “I’m not a kid anymore.”
Summer giggled. “Had me fooled.”
“It’s all done with smoke and mirrors,” he teased. He caressed her breasts, still swollen from their loving.
“Oh, yeah, well you could certainly take your show on the road,” she purred.
He pulled her even closer against his body. “This is the end of the road for me, Summer. I found where I want to go.”
She shut her eyes and smiled.
The days seemed to rush by and the excitement of the Christmas holidays and the station’s preparations for the New Year’s program had everyone at WKQR on supercharge.
And Summer was happy. Happier than she’d been in years. She and Tre spent all of their free time together, talking, exploring the city, taking long drives on snow-filled nights, making love until they were both wobbling with exhaustion.
She stayed so busy at the station, finding room in her life for this wonderful relationship, that when she stopped to take a breath it was only three weeks before Christmas, and she hadn’t picked up a present for Tre. She wanted it to be special, so she pulled a few strings, used her radio connections, and was able to order a collection of all of John Coltrane’s work—some never before recorded, only played live and put on cassettes—and she was having them all pressed onto a CD. She knew he loved music as much as she did and was sure he would enjoy the gift.
She got up early, dressed in several layers since the weather report said the temperature had dropped below freezing, and the wind chill made it feel like minus ten degrees.
Just as she was putting on her ankle-length, black shearling coat, her phone rang. She started to ignore it, but on the third ring changed her mind.
“Hello?”
“Hey, baby. It’s me.”
A big grin stretched her mouth. “It better be. I don’t want just any old strange man with a sexy voice calling me baby.”
He’d been debating with his conscience for weeks. The guilt of what he’d done had weighed down his spirit. Summer had been open, loving, and totally giving once she’d gotten beyond
her reservations. And he couldn’t live with himself any longer if he didn’t do the same. If they were going to work at and maintain their relationship, it had to be from a foundation of honesty. He couldn’t walk into the new year with this on his conscience.
“Are you busy?”
“Well, I was on my way out of the door.”
“We need to talk.”
“Tre, what is it? You don’t sound like yourself.” Her heart started beating a little faster. She unbuttoned her coat.
“I can be there in about fifteen minutes. Please wait for me. It’s important.”
Well, the longest fifteen minutes known to man did the slow drag, just like those long, seemingly endless love songs that played in the blue-light basement parties where you bent over backward and just prayed the song would end so you could stand up straight and get the kink out of your back.
In other words, she wanted to scream. She paced. She turned on the stereo, turned it off and put on the television. When that didn’t work, she paced some more.
What could it be? Another woman? A disease? He was gay?
When the doorbell ding-donged, her whole body snapped like a piece of dry wood. Taking a breath of calm, she crossed the living room to the foyer and opened the door. The tortured look on Tre’s face in no way eased her anxiety.
“Hi.” She stepped aside to let him pass and wondered what happened to his usual kiss of greeting.
He walked straight into the living room, hands jammed into the pockets of his pea coat, and took up where she left off with the pacing.
“I can’t stand this another minute,” she blurted, crossing her arms beneath her breasts.
Tre stopped, looked at her, then ran a hand across his face. “I don’t even know how to tell you this, Summer. I thought I had it all worked out in my head.”
“Just tell me.” Her heart was totally out of control.
Holiday Fantasy Page 15