Forever Mine, Valentine

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “And deadlier,” Spence said, his jaw tight. “I’m warning you that—”

  “May I say something?” Bernie stepped forward and planted his walking stick beside him with a thump.

  “And who might this be?” Tippy said, looking amused. “One of the erstwhile Senior Striders?”

  “Correct,” Bernie said, extending his hand over the desk. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting, Ms Henderson. My name is Bernard Bredvold.”

  Tippy’s expression registered surprise for the first time. “I’ve heard that name.”

  Bernie released her hand and smiled. “That’s possible. I used to play golf regularly with Clinton DeVeney.”

  Tippy blinked. “With Mr. DeVeney?” she said faintly.

  “Correct,” Bernie said again. “The CEO of your corporation, Ms Henderson. Clint and I go back a ways. Matter of fact, we graduated from Harvard Business School together.”

  “I see.” Tippy looked dazed.

  Jill watched in fascination. She’d suspected George, Bernie and Robert of being retired executives, but she hadn’t pictured any of them this highly placed. Now she understood why Bernie had been sent to this office, but she also wondered why the campaign had been necessary, at all. Bernie was about to clean Tippy’s clock with a few well-chosen threats.

  “I haven’t talked with old Clint in a while,” Bernie said, eyeing Tippy carefully. “Thought I’d give him a call this weekend, find out how his golf game is. He promised to come out and see me this summer so we could play a few rounds at the Broadmoor.”

  Tippy nodded like a robot.

  “I’ll give him your regards, if you like,” Bernie said.

  Tippy nodded again.

  “I’ll tell him how thrilled you are with the free trolley system, and the museum and the melodrama here at the Remembrance Mall. Clint is a real fan of things like that.”

  Tippy made a noise in her throat that sounded like a suppressed moan.

  “So,” Bernie concluded, glancing around at the others in the office, “does that about wrap things up?”

  “I’d say so,” Spence replied. “We’ll let you get back to work now, Ms Henderson.”

  Tippy didn’t answer as they filed silently out of the office and past the secretary.

  When they reached the mob of people in the hall, Spence held up two fingers in a victory sign, and the group went wild. “Come on,” yelled someone, “I feel like taking a ride on the trolley!”

  The majority of the crowd followed, but the four who had witnessed Bernie’s performance in Tippy’s office stayed behind. Joined by Charlie and Gladys, the group surrounded the tall, grinning man.

  “Why didn’t you tell us about this before?” Spence demanded. “You could have saved us a heap of trouble.”

  “Two reasons,” Bernie said. “When I was president of my own company, I always tried to let people work out their own problems before stepping in. This experience was good for you, and now the mall tenants are far more united and ready for the next crisis, which will eventually arrive, I can promise you.”

  “I guess that makes sense,” Jill said, “but what was the second reason?”

  “Him,” Bernie confessed, jabbing his walking stick in Charlie’s direction. “I told him about my connection a long time ago, but he said this campaign against Tippy would help bring you and Spence together. I couldn’t jump in and alter the course of true love, now, could I?”

  Jill flushed and glanced at Spence. “I guess not,” she said, and saw the light of hope flicker in Spence’s eyes. “Anyway, thanks for saving the day, Bernie.”

  “I’m beginning to put this all together,” Spence said. “Were you by any chance the one who convinced Anderson’s to hold off renting the museum space?”

  “No, that was George,” Bernie said. “Charlie told us about the problem. George also had misgivings about interfering, although his sister-in-law owns a controlling interest in the Anderson’s chain. All three of us—George, Robert and I—wanted to keep a low profile and only help if the situation got out of hand. When I heard Tippy the Lip in there this afternoon, I figured the situation was definitely out of hand. I may tell Clint to get rid of that gal, after all. She’s horrible.”

  “I’d give her another chance, Bernie,” Charlie said. “If you allow some of the atmosphere of the Remembrance Mall to influence her, perhaps she’ll discover the joys of philanthropy yet.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it,” Bernie said, “but I guess we can give it a try. She could start by waiving the fee she’s charging you and Gladys to hold the wedding in the mall.”

  “I imagine we won’t be billed,” Charlie said with a wink.

  “Yeah,” Bernie agreed, “but not because of Tippy’s generosity. Take away that sword I’ve just hung over her head, and she’ll be the same nasty, bullheaded—”

  “Now, Bernie, my good man, don’t be so hard on Tippy,” Charlie interrupted. “Wait until she samples the rewards of being cooperative.”

  “You always believe people will come through in the end, don’t you, Charlie?” Bernie replied.

  “Of course,” Charlie said. “Because they always do.”

  Jill could feel Charlie’s penetrating stare, but she refused to look at him.

  Spence turned toward her with a smile. “Ready to celebrate our victory?”

  Agreement was on her lips, but she stopped herself. “I think I’d better get back to the campground,” she said, and before he could answer, she turned and fled down the mall, away from temptation.

  JILL SPENT Saturday and Sunday trying to forget Spence by playing tourist. G.G. would appreciate it, she told herself, and anything was better than sitting at the campground for two days. She doggedly covered the Air Force Academy, the Will Rogers Shrine of the Sun, the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo, and the North Pole amusement park. Unfortunately the city’s attractions had become thoroughly linked with Spence in her mind; he might as well have been with her the entire weekend.

  Finally, after exhausting herself for two days, she prepared a simple meal on Sunday night and got ready to turn in early. A light snow was falling outside her camper, and she bundled into her warmest nightgown. She wished that she had the long johns she’d lost the nerve to select at Jegger Outfitters the night she’d chosen her other merchandise.

  With a sigh she picked up a thick paperback novel, intending to try reading herself to sleep. The technique hadn’t worked very well in the past few nights, but she hoped tonight it would. She was halfway through the first chapter when someone knocked at the door of her camper.

  Edging back the curtains, she saw Spence, snow dusting his hair and the shoulders of his jacket. He was holding a large box and gazing up at her in silent appeal. She knew she shouldn’t let him in, knew what would happen if she did. But she jumped barefoot to the floor of the van and unlocked the door.

  He climbed in and filled the small space, leaving her no room for hesitation, no time to push him away before he hauled her into his arms and kissed her with snow-damp lips. His nylon jacket crackled between them as she clutched his sleeves made slippery with snow. The cardboard of the box he still held in one hand pressed against her back; the cold from his jacket penetrated the flannel of her nightgown, but she didn’t care. His mouth was a remembered haven, his tongue a welcome delight.

  “You taste of beer,” she whispered between kisses.

  “Bachelor party for Charlie,” he said, dropping the box on the driver’s seat of the van. He unzipped his jacket and nestled her against the soft velour of his shirt before claiming her lips again with a murmur of satisfaction.

  He wasn’t going to ask politely for this, she realized. He didn’t plan to give her the option of saying no. If she wanted to put an end to his caresses and send him on his way, she’d have to do it now. Instead, her arms slipped inside his jacket, and her mouth opened to his exploring tongue.

  He gripped her bottom, bare under the flannel, and guided her until she fitted tightly again
st the swell in his jeans. He lifted his head and gazed down at her. “One for the road,” he said softly, releasing her slowly and taking off his jacket.

  She made a feeble attempt at protest. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said as he began unfastening the buttons at the neck of her gown. “You shouldn’t be doing this,” she added as he gathered up the hem of her gown and pulled the garment over her head.

  “But I will.” He cupped her breast, cradling the nipple in the curve of his thumb. “I will,” he repeated, arching her backward across his arm and leaning down to draw the hardened tip into the warm circle of his lips.

  The heat of her response banished the chill from the small van. Every beat of her heart seemed to echo in the moist center that awaited him. She tangled her fingers in his dark hair, still damp from the snow, and closed her eyes to savor the coaxing pleasure of his mouth, as she would savor each step of his seduction. After tonight, nothing was certain. She might never know his lovemaking again.

  With nibbling kisses he mapped the region of her breasts, leaving no part unloved. “You’re getting pink all over,” he praised, easing her upright and stepping back to admire his handiwork.

  “You show no mercy, do you?” she said, breathless from the journey of his mouth over her skin.

  “None.” He pulled off his shirt and nudged off his shoes. Movement was restricted in the small space, but he took off the rest of his clothes with surprising agility.

  “You operate well in close quarters,” she said, glorying in the magnificence of his aroused body.

  He guided her back onto the narrow bed. “I work with what I’m given,” he said, kneeling beside the bed and running his palms over her breasts and stomach.

  “Come here,” she begged, gripping his arm and urging him to lie with her.

  “In a minute.” He caressed the inside of her thighs. “In a minute. I’m taking pictures for a mental scrapbook. You have beautiful knees,” he murmured, stroking downward and placing a kiss there.

  “That’s…silly,” she said, trembling as he gently bent her leg and kissed the inside of her knee.

  “And toes.” He traced each one with a feathery touch. “And…other parts,” he said, his gaze sweeping back up her body.

  She started to straighten her leg, for its position had left her open and vulnerable to him, but he pressed against her thigh with one broad palm. “Still memorizing,” he said, his eyes dark with passion.

  “I’ll have no secrets,” she murmured.

  “That’s the idea,” he said.

  Once he began his sweet assault, she was helpless to deny him. Dimly she recognized his motive for loving her so completely here, in this place where she would live for several months. After tonight she wouldn’t be able to sleep in this bed without remembering the touch of his hands, his mouth.

  “I know…” she gasped, “what you’re…doing. You don’t want…me to forget.”

  “That’s right.” He kissed his way back to her mouth. “You admit you’re easily distracted.”

  “I can’t imagine forgetting you,” she whispered, gazing into the dark glow of his eyes.

  “I love you.”

  She dared not respond. If she admitted her love, she’d never leave, never finish her journey.

  “I can read your mind, you know. You’re not hiding anything.”

  She stared up at him, silent and trembling. “Just love me,” she murmured at last. “Let me feel you inside me once more.”

  Quietly he sheathed himself and moved between her thighs. “I want you to remember all of this,” he said, holding back. “The moment before, when we each want the other so much we ache.”

  “I will.”

  “And how you feel with the first…mmm…the first thrust.” He stayed very still within her.

  She could feel the hammering of his heart against her breast and smell the pungent combination of his desire and hers. “Yes.” She tightened around him and pushed her fingers into his back.

  “And then—” He moved now, pressing rhythmically in the way he knew would drive her over the edge. “This,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “Yes,” she gasped.

  “Remember me, Jill. Remember me,” he demanded, pumping cries of ecstasy from her until she arched upward in a quivering climax. Only then did he allow the spasms to envelop him, too.

  13

  SPENCE LEFT THE SMALL BED soon afterward. He dressed with the same economy of movement as he’d undressed, while Jill lay wrapped in the misty haze that always followed Spence’s lovemaking.

  Once he paused, and his gaze traveled over her uncovered body. “Come home with me,” he said. “Marry me. We’ll have the routine down pat after Charlie’s wedding.”

  “No,” she murmured. “I can’t.”

  He didn’t speak again until after he’d put on his jacket and was ready to leave. He leaned down and caressed her cheek. “I’m afraid you’ll have to get up so you can lock the door behind me.”

  Nodding, she reached for her flannel gown on the floor.

  “Here,” he said, picking up the box on the front seat and handing it to her. “I nearly forgot about bringing this.”

  Inside the box, beneath a swath of tissue paper, she found the white peignoir she’d painted on the lingerie shop window. She glanced up at him. “It’s beautiful, Spence, but this van gets pretty cold at night…”

  “I know. Except it isn’t now.”

  “Except now,” she agreed, smiling.

  “Put it on for me, so I can see…”

  She stood and slipped her arms through the sleeves.

  “Perfect,” he murmured, tying the red satin belt around her waist.

  “I shouldn’t keep it.”

  “Yes, you should. I bought it for our wedding night.”

  “Spence, you’ve got to stop this. I’m not leaving here with any promises. No matter how much I care for you, I have to settle on a career before I—”

  “Dammit, I’ve tried to be patient, but I’m sick of hearing that! You have a career. You paint windows.”

  “That’s not a career, that’s just a job. Surely even you can see the difference.”

  He stared at her. “Even me? What do you mean by that crack?”

  “I mean that I don’t think you really care whether I settle into satisfying work or not, so long as I stay in your life, in your bed.”

  “Not true, dammit!”

  “You’re swearing a lot,” she observed coldly.

  “Maybe I have to swear to get the point across. I’ve watched you paint windows and I think you happen to enjoy it very much. The work is flexible, so you can also take on other projects, community service things, for example. You’re your own boss. You can be extremely creative. What the hell more do you want?”

  “You think I can go around telling people that’s what I do for a living? Paint store windows?”

  He gazed at her silently. “I don’t know why not, but apparently you have some high-flown idea of what makes a job worthwhile.”

  “Of course I do! I’ve been told all my life that I’m talented, that I can do anything I want, that I shouldn’t waste my abilities. What do you call painting store windows? Is that discovering the cure for cancer, or improving literacy, or even giving people better teeth, for heaven’s sake?”

  “Maybe not, but—”

  “You’re just afraid that my search will take me away from you, that’s all.”

  “Maybe I am. In fact, sure I am, but that’s not the point. I don’t think you see what—”

  “I see one thing. You’d better leave. Now.”

  “You’re one stubborn woman, Jill Amory.”

  “Good! It’s about time! All my life I’ve drifted whichever way the wind blew. Now it’s time for me to call the shots.” She pointed to her chest. “Me.”

  “Well, you’re sure doing that, sweetheart.” He opened the door, letting in a blast of cold air that whipped through the filmy peignoir. “See you around,” he sa
id, and leaped to the ground.

  She closed and locked the door behind him. Pushing the curtain aside, she watched him walk away through swirling snow. When he was out of sight, she realized she was shivering violently. It was very cold in the van.

  JILL SLEPT LITTLE that night, but all through the dark hours she told herself that the fight was a good thing. She could leave more easily now that she knew how Spence really felt. He’d be content for her to spend her life in a pursuit no more important than decorating windows. What a laugh. Except that she didn’t feel like laughing.

  The next morning she drove to a mall across town from the Remembrance to find a wedding present for Charlie and Gladys. Over the weekend, while she’d toured the city, she’d tried to think of an appropriate gift, but her usually creative mind had failed her. Today was her last chance. She wanted to take her gift to the late-night supper in the mall that evening.

  Robert had arranged the supper for members of the wedding party so that Gladys’s daughter and granddaughter would have a chance to meet Charlie before the ceremony the next morning. Jill felt obligated to attend, although she’d rather have avoided seeing Spence.

  Finding the right gift wasn’t easy, considering that Gladys had everything she needed, and Jill couldn’t imagine what would be appropriate for an old fellow who believed that he was St. Valentine. By noon she’d nearly given up hope that she’d find something, when she passed an art supply store and inspiration hit. Later, with an armload of supplies, she drove back to the Remembrance Mall.

  Fortunately the snow had stopped during the night, and today the sky formed a brilliant blue backdrop for the Victorian gingerbread of the mall. Jill set up her easel, unpacked her newly purchased watercolors and began. She discarded several drafts, stopping only to eat a sandwich, before she finished something that she liked. As light faded from the sky, she stood back to admire her work while the colors dried. Luckily her training had turned out to be good for something and she had the perfect memento for Gladys and Charlie.