A Thrill to Remember (10 page)

She studied herself for a long moment. The thought of Don Juan hung like a mist between herself and her reflection. As if in a dream, she saw him before her. She gazed at that shadowy image, memorizing it to forever carry him with her, knowing she would treasure it for fear if it might break up and scatter like paperweight snowflakes.

“Stop being so fanciful,” she told her reflection. “It’s not like you.”

She had no reason to feel blue or abandoned. She had nothing to complain about. She’d gotten what she wanted—a thrilling night of no-strings-attached sex. Raw, animal intimacy to help her overcome her fears and regain her femininity.

“Don’t feel sad, Meggie. You just reclaimed your sexuality,” she declared to her bedraggled reflection in the mirror. “Be happy. Be proud. Go forth from this moment knowing that you are not dull and predictable either in bed or out.”

She made herself grin.

Feeling a little better, she showered and dressed, then realized she was going to have to sneak out of the hotel room just after dawn, wearing her Catherine the Great costume and no makeup. Hopefully she wouldn’t run into anybody she knew.

“Better get a move on, Scofield,” she muttered under her breath.

Groaning, she slipped her feet into her high-heeled shoes and headed for the door. That’s when she saw it dangling from the doorknob.

Don Juan’s mask.

That was all? No note requesting to see her again? No phone number where she could reach him?

But that was a good thing. Right?

Except she did want to see him again. No matter how irrational the thought.

If you want to know who he is, it’s easy to find out. All you have to do is call the front desk and ask who reserved this room.

Quickly, she slammed the door on that idea. She did not wish to pursue a long-term relationship with the man. It was over.

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?” Wendy demanded, sizing up Meggie’s bedraggled costume. She was sitting on Meggie’s front stoop, the Sunday morning newspaper tucked under one arm, a box of doughnuts resting on her bent knees. “I’ve been ringing your doorbell for a good ten minutes.”

“You got Krispy Kremes? I love you.”

Meggie reached for the doughnuts in an attempt to sidetrack her friend, but Wendy was having none of it. She hunched forward, shielding the box with her body.

“No way, sister. You don’t get one until you tell me where you were.”

“You’re not my mother,” Meggie said defensively. She didn’t want to talk about her night with Don Juan. It was too special.

Besides, she was afraid that if she spoke of their lovemaking, and of how he had left her without a single word, she would start crying. For no good reason at all. She had wanted a no-strings-attached fling. What was there to bawl about?

“No talkie, no Krispy Kreme.”

“Fine. Keep your doughnuts.” She stepped around Wendy to insert her key in her door lock.

Looking startled, Wendy jumped to her feet and followed Meggie into her apartment. “You’re seriously turning down doughnuts?”

“Seriously.” She tossed her keys on the table and kicked off her shoes.

“Ooh, this must be really juicy.” Wendy opened up the doughnut box and fanned the lid. “Mmm, smell. Got your favorite. Plain glazed.”

“Forget it. I’m not talking.”

“If it was the other way around, I would tell you.” Wendy pursed her lips in a pout.

“That’s beside the point. You love to blab.” Meggie pulled a carton of orange juice from the refrigerator. “Want some?”

“With doughnuts? Yeck. You’ve gotta be kiddin’.”

“Suit yourself.” She shrugged and poured a glass for herself.

Wendy set the doughnuts on the counter. “I’m getting kinda worried about you, Megs.”

“Don’t be.”

“How can I not? You’re my best friend. And at first, when you came back from Alaska all charged up after your romantic encounter with this Don Juan dude, I thought it was really cool the way you were taking charge of your life. Cutting your hair, getting new clothes and speaking up for yourself at work.”

“But now?”

“Well.” Wendy eyed Meggie’s rumpled dress. “You’re not acting like the Meggie I know and love. I mean, obviously you were with some man last night.”

Meggie said nothing.

“Why won’t you tell me?”

“It’s personal.”

Wendy slapped her palm over her mouth. “Omigosh. It’s that hometown guy. You spent the night with your old buddy.”

“Caleb? Don’t be silly. His plane isn’t even due in until this afternoon. Of course I wasn’t with Caleb. Why would you think I was with Caleb? I told you I don’t have romantic feelings for Caleb.”

Meggie realized she was talking too fast, denying Wendy’s accusations too vehemently and using Caleb’s name too often. Why?

And why the sudden tightness in her breasts at the thought of making love with Caleb? Good grief! What a mental picture. Maybe she was losing all control when it came to men. Maybe Don Juan had turned her into a sex-crazed nympho.

“I don’t know. Whenever you talk about Caleb, your eyes light up and you get this glow about you.”

“You’re nuts.”

“Then who were you with?”

“I don’t want to discuss it.”

“Oh no.” Wendy groaned. “It’s that Don Juan dude, isn’t it?”

Meggie looked away, refusing to meet her gaze.

Wendy bit her bottom lip. “I care about you and I’m afraid you’re getting in over your head. You know after going through a divorce some women go wild and do things they would normally never do. Things they regret afterward. Don’t get swept away by lust, Meggie.”

“I appreciate your concern, I really do. But I really am okay.”

“Promise?”

Meggie nodded.

“All right then, but if you need anything, anything at all, I’m here.”

“Thank you for that. Now, if you don’t mind, I think I’d like to take a nap.”

Wendy nodded. “I’ll leave you a couple of Krispy Kremes, even if you won’t tell me about your sordid night of pleasure.”

“It wasn’t sordid.”

“What fun is that?” Wendy grinned impishly.

“Go on, get out of here.”

“See you later.” Wendy put three doughnuts on a saucer, covered them with a paper towel and then retreated with the box.

After Meggie closed the door behind her friend, she wandered into the living room, intent on checking her answering machine. The green light blinked. One message.

A bubble of hope expanded inside her. Maybe Don Juan had called to tell her what a wonderful time he’d had. Or maybe he’d even called to make another date for the next time he was in town.

Don’t be ridiculous. You made it clear you didn’t want to see him again. He didn’t call.

She depressed the play button, crossed her fingers and strained to hear the voice spilling into the room.

“Hi.”

For one moment she thought it was Don Juan.

“Meggie, this is Caleb.”

She exhaled and sank onto the sofa. Why was she so disappointed?

“I just called to let you know I got into Seattle a little early, so you don’t have to pick me up at the airport. I’m staying at the Crowne Plaza. I’ve got some things to do today, so I guess I’ll catch you at the lecture tomorrow. Can’t wait to see you. Bye.”

Well, at least somebody wanted to see her. So what if she never heard from Don Juan again? No sense feeling sorry for herself. It was all for the best. Besides, Caleb was in town. If anyone could cheer her up, that man, with his understanding smile and soulful blue eyes, most certainly could.

DESPITE THE LOSS of his notes and reference material, the lecture was going really well. Caleb knew his entomology as intimately as he now knew Meggie’s luscious body.

He fielded questions and comments from the audience, which consisted of various medical personnel interested in knowing what they could do to educate the public about Lyme disease and related illnesses. He hadn’t made a single mistake.

That is, until Meggie slipped in through a side door and took a seat on the aisle just a few feet from the podium.

He had been in the middle of a sentence, but the moment he spotted her, every bit of knowledge he possessed flew from his head. She looked exquisitely gorgeous, no matter that she wore shapeless pink hospital scrubs and not a speck of makeup. A catwalk supermodel would not have looked any better to him.

“The…er, I…um,” he said, desperately wishing he had papers to shuffle, a pencil to tap, anything to help him focus.

Meggie caught his eye, broke into a beaming smile that lit her face from corner to corner and winked at him.

“Sorry I’m late,” she mouthed silently.

His heart pinched. A half-dozen conflicting emotions converged upon him, clogging his throat and tightening his chest. Guilt, excitement, longing, fear, desire and inexplicable tenderness.

Thoughts of Saturday night flooded his mind. He recalled those lips, soft as rose petals and tasty as taffy. How he wished he could have kissed her awake Sunday morning, massaged her taxed muscles and then served her breakfast in bed.

Instead, because of this deception he had been forced to perpetuate, he had slipped from her bed, sheepish and embarrassed. He wondered what she’d thought when she found the mask dangling from the doorknob, and if he’d hurt her feelings by leaving her without so much as a goodbye kiss.

Had she awakened in the cold dark and reached for him, only to find him missing? Had she looked for comfort and found only sharp emptiness?

Perhaps he was being fanciful. Perhaps she was relieved he’d crept away like a sneaky thief, glad she did not have to face him in the sobering light of day and discover his true identity.

He looked at her and his heart tore.

She was still smiling. She wriggled her fingers. She seemed fine. In fact, there was a distinct sparkle in her eyes he hadn’t seen there in a very long time.

Apparently orgasms with unknown masked men agreed with her.

Jealousy clenched his jaw.

Dumb-ass, you were that masked man. What? Are you envious of yourself?

Yeah, okay. Maybe he was the guy who’d put the rosy color in her cheeks, but it just as easily could have been someone else.

Caleb realized he was staring at her and silence had settled over the room, while everyone waited for him to speak. But he couldn’t continue. He had no idea what to say next.

“Why don’t we take a break for lunch?” He glanced at his watch. “The lecture will resume in one hour.”

He had to talk to her and find out how she was doing. He had to make sure he hadn’t irreparably harmed her.

She rose to her feet. He stepped off the podium and hurried toward her.

Calm down. Chill out. Take it easy.

“Meggie,” he said, feeling rather awkward and unsure of himself.

What now?

“Caleb.” Her smile crinkled the corners of her green eyes in a way that rendered him useless. She held out her arms and motioned him closer. “Come here and give me a hug. It’s so darn good to see you.”

And so he embraced her, pressing her tightly against him and patting her back. She smelled fragrantly sweet, like springtime in the Tongass. They were friends, after all. The hug meant nothing more to her than good to see you, old buddy and he knew it.

But that didn’t stop him from wishing and praying for more. Her body heat infiltrated his consciousness on a primordial level and sent a bolt of desire shooting through his groin.

This wouldn’t do. He had to get away from her before he got hard and she discovered that her good old buddy wanted to be way more than just friends.

He stepped from the circle of her embrace and looked into her eyes. She gazed at him, a quizzical expression on her face. She blinked and the look was gone. Had she begun to suspect he was Don Juan?

In that moment, he almost confessed everything, but something about the way she was looking at him now, as if she were honestly happy and excited about him being in Seattle, rendered him mute.

This clearly wasn’t the time or place for true confessions.

“I’m taking you to lunch,” she declared. “There’s a lovely little French bistro on the corner.”

He nodded, tongue-tied.

She squeezed his hand. “You’ll never know how pleased I am that you decided to teach the symposiums. For one thing, we were in desperate need of a knowledgeable instructor, but the truth is I’ve really missed you since I left Alaska.”

“You’re kidding. You missed me?”

“Of course I’m not kidding, doofus.” She slung her arm over his shoulder, leaned into him and reached up a hand to tousle his hair. “You’re my surrogate kid brother.”

His hopes sputtered and died.

Surrogate kid brother. Not exactly the sentiment he was hoping for. When he finally got around to telling her that he was Don Juan, he would remind her exactly why he’d been forced into this pretense. She refused to see him for the grown man he was and not the gangly teen he’d once been. The Don Juan outfit had been the only way to burrow under her prejudices and expand her mind.

Problem was, would she appreciate the underhanded education?

MEGGIE PEERED AT CALEB over the rim of her teacup. It was a little after one o’clock and they were sitting across from each at other at La Maison sharing a thick turkey croissant and bowls of hearty French onion soup.

Damn, but she’d never really noticed how very handsome he was. There was no way she was going to get out of introducing him to Wendy. If she refused, her friend might never speak to her again. Good-looking, caring men like Caleb didn’t come along every day. He would be good for Wendy, who had a tendency to get tangled up with freeloaders.

But would Wendy be good for Caleb?

Why do you care so much? Introduce them and they can sort it out for themselves.

She had enough problems of her own without fretting over other people’s love lives. Absently, she fingered her lips, her thoughts traveling back to Don Juan and the erotic night she’d spent in his arms.

Truthfully, she was still a little shaky over what had transpired, both shocked and pleased by her uncharacteristic behavior.

Does it stick out all over me? Have I changed? Am I different? Can people tell by looking at me? Can Caleb?

She shot another glance his way and found him studying her with such a peculiar expression on his face that for one halting moment she believed he must be privy to her every thought and know exactly what she’d been up to.

But that was fanciful nonsense. How on earth could Caleb possibly know that she’d been with Don Juan?

And if he did know, why would he even care?

Embarrassment frosted over her like an icy film, followed by an unexpected blast of heat. She felt her face flush pink.

This had to stop. Her obsessing over Don Juan was beginning to bleed over into other aspects of her life, causing her to imagine all kinds of crazy things.