A Thrill to Remember (12 page)

“See anything you like?” Caleb murmured, his warm breath fanning the hairs on the nape of her neck.

Meggie forced herself not to shiver. She started to shake her head, but then her gaze landed on a black porcelain mask. A glass miniature of the same type of mask Don Juan had worn. She reached out to touch the mask in the bizarre hope of grounding herself.

“Ah, you’re attracted to the unknown,” the doll vendor said. She was a gray-haired woman with an unlined face and mystic aura about her. She wore a dreamy, blue gauze dress and too much jewelry.

“What?” Meggie blinked.

“The mask. It represents what we keep hidden deep within us. The veil that separates the civilized part of our psyche from the uncivilized. The mask symbolizes our secret desires, our forbidden passions, our clandestine affairs.”

A coldness passed through Meggie. It was as if the woman possessed a strange telepathy that allowed her to look straight into her heart.

“We’ll take it,” Caleb told the woman.

“No, please. I can’t let you buy this for me.” Meggie shook her head.

“You like it and I want to get you something to repay you for squiring me around town.”

“Showing you Seattle is my pleasure.”

“We’ll take it,” he repeated insistently, and pulled a wad of cash from his pocket.

“Caleb.” Meggie leaned back against his body to whisper a warning. “Don’t be such a tourist. This isn’t Bear Creek. Don’t go flashing your money.”

His face colored and he looked chagrined. He peeled off two twenties and handed them to the doll vendor to cover the cost of the mask, then stuffed his money clip back into his front pocket.

Meggie realized she’d embarrassed him and immediately felt bad. “I’m sorry to make a fuss,” she mumbled.

“Don’t be,” he said. “You were absolutely right.”

The doll vendor wrapped up his purchase, made change and handed him the sack. He turned the package over to Meggie. “To mark the event of my visit to Seattle.”

She clutched the sack to her chest, felt the solid weight of the mask inside the package correspond with the solid lump of emotion lodged in her chest.

“Thank you. It’s a lovely gift and awfully sweet of you to buy it for me.”

Their eyes met. Something meaningful passed between them. Something more than mere friendship. Something she was too afraid to name.

“You’re welcome.”

He smiled, and for one starstruck moment she thought he was going to touch her face, but instead he clapped his palms together. “Now how about we get those ingredients for that clam sauce?”

TWO HOURS LATER they were ensconced in Meggie’s apartment, with a crackling fire in her gas fireplace and a feast laid out across the dining room table.

They had prepared dinner together, chopping and mixing, slicing and dicing, stirring and sautéing. They’d sipped wine as they worked, and Caleb had fiddled with the dial on her radio, jumping from station to station until he caught an edgy salsa beat and left it tuned there.

They had bopped around the kitchen to the lively tunes while the exotic Spanish sound brought unbidden thoughts of Don Juan. Would she ever see her mysterious lover again? Did she even want to?

But she pushed those questions aside to listen to Caleb talk about the lectures, his impression of Seattle and what tourist attraction he wanted to see next.

A fissure of pleasure broke through her earlier anxiety because things seemed to have gone back to normal between her and Caleb.

They were friends again and nothing more.

Thank heavens.

Meggie discounted the weird flush of emotions she’d felt at the Pike Place Market, chalking everything up to her fascination with Don Juan. She was so intrigued by the man she was imagining the most ridiculous things. She really had to do something about her obsession with Don Juan before it started causing her serious problems.

“This clam sauce is the best I’ve ever tasted,” Meggie told Caleb, determined not to think of Don Juan for the rest of the evening.

He grinned at her. “Thanks.”

“You’re going to make some lucky lady a very good husband someday.”

“You think?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

She waved a hand. She was feeling a little tipsy from the wine. A soft, warm glow settled over her. She was happy to be sitting here with her friend, and she was glad he hadn’t let her fix him up with Wendy. While she had boiled the linguini, he’d set the table and lit the candles that had been sitting on her dining room table for years. When she looked at him across the table, she saw twin candle flames reflected in his eyes.

“For the life of me, Caleb, I don’t know why some woman hasn’t already snapped you up.”

He shrugged. “Guess I just haven’t met the right one yet.”

Why wasn’t he married yet? The man was beyond gorgeous. And kind and trustworthy and wealthy and very, very sexy.

As far as she knew he’d never even had a serious relationship. Quinn had mentioned once that Caleb had sown a few wild oats in college, but no one in Bear Creek could ever recall him having a steady girlfriend.

Why not? He didn’t seem like a one-night stand kind of guy.

Yeah, and seven weeks ago you weren’t a one-night stand kind of girl.

She thought of Don Juan again, felt a flush of heat rise to her face.

Dammit! She was not going to think about him anymore. The affair was over and that’s the way she wanted it.

“Let me speculate,” she said, looking for any excuse to distract herself. “You’re a wee bit commitment phobic because of your family history.”

“On the money.” Caleb gave her a wry smile. “When your mother has been married three times and your father twice, and you have a total of eleven stepsiblings or half siblings, it sorta shakes your faith in happily ever after.”

“Tell me about it.” Meggie shook her head.

“You’re thinking of Jesse.”

“Well, we were together six years.”

“How come you married him, Megs? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I messed up. What can I say?”

“Was it an opposites-attract kind of thing between you two? Or did you have that silly romantic notion women sometimes get, thinking they can change the bad boy? Because I never understood what you saw in him and I always thought you deserved better.”

“My, my. What a big speech for a guy who doesn’t talk much,” Meggie teased, but the hitch in her stomach made it hard to breathe.

“I won’t get offended if you tell me it’s none of my damned business. Because it’s not. But I’m curious.”

Meggie stared into her wineglass and took a swig of the tepid liquid. “To tell you the truth, I’ve been struggling to answer that question myself.”

“Come up with any stunning insight?”

He cocked his head to one side. In that moment he looked so endearingly boyish, Meggie felt something warm and slippery melt inside her.

“Other than I was young and dumb?”

“Yeah, other than that.” He grinned.

Caleb made her feel safe. Like she could tell him anything and it would be all right. She recalled then pleasant snippets from their childhood. Because of his jumbled family life, Caleb had often stayed with the Scofields, especially during the summer when school was out and his stepsiblings had shuttled off in a half-dozen different directions on vacations with their respective parents. Homebody Caleb had always preferred staying in Bear Creek, and Meggie’s loving parents had readily opened their home to him.

They’d had the kind of routine that had stayed with her as a model of how summer mornings were suppose to be. As kids, they rose early, listening to the birds trilling. They’d make themselves breakfast if her parents were still asleep. Cold cereal or frozen waffles if Meggie convinced the boys to eat properly. Cookie dough or leftover pizza or even ice cream if they had their way.

Then her parents would get up. Usually her father first, shuffling into the kitchen in his bathrobe to make coffee while her mother showered. Then her mom would make them a picnic lunch if they were going exploring. Cheese and bread, fruit and juice that she put in brown paper sacks. She’d wave them off with instructions not to get lost or fall into the fjord.

“Remember when we were kids and you used to spend the summer with Quinn?”

“I remember.”

“You guys were nice to let me tag along with you, even though I was such a cautious scaredy-cat.”

“I think your mother made us.”

“Yeah, well, there was that.” She smiled at him. “But somewhere along the way, I picked up this craving for adventure. Funny, though. At the very same time I was always afraid of letting go, of being out of control.”

“You’re a complicated lass, Meggie Scofield.”

She laughed. “That’s one way of looking at it.”

“So what did Jesse have to do with any of this?”

Meggie moistened her lips. “Okay, here it is. My theory on why I was with your stepbrother.”

Caleb pushed his plate aside, propped his elbows on the table and dropped his chin into his open palms. “I’m all ears. Go on.”

“The way I figure it, with my limited knowledge of pop psychology, Jesse provided me with a safe outlet, a way to get my vicarious thrills. I could watch him skydive or bungee jump and I never had to take a risk or put myself out there. I inhaled the fumes from his high and that got me by. Secondhand adventure, so to speak. Does that make any sense?”

Caleb nodded. “I can see where you might find my stepbrother exciting.”

“Also makes sense that he would eventually leave me for being too dull.”

“You’re not dull,” he declared vehemently. “Not in the least.”

“Oh, believe me, I was. I spent all my time working. My job is everything to me. I never wanted to try anything new, do anything different. I had my routine and I liked things that way. I’ve got to thank Jesse for that at least. He shook me up and made me realize how I’d been sleepwalking through life.”

“If you say so.”

“But that’s all changed now. I’ve starting taking a few risks of my own and I’m amazed at what I’ve discovered about myself.”

“How? What happened?”

Meggie ducked her head, suddenly embarrassed. Should she tell him about Don Juan?

“Megs?”

She raised her chin and met his gaze. She saw nothing but calm acceptance reflected in those big blue eyes. Maybe if she told him about Don Juan she could start getting over her obsession with the fantasy.

Caleb was a great listener and an even better friend. He wouldn’t go back to Bear Creek and gossip. If she told him about Don Juan, no one else would ever find out.

“I’ve got big ears and tight lips.”

“Your ears aren’t big.” She swatted playfully at his shoulder, almost fell out of her chair and realized belatedly she was a tad tipsy.

“Whoa there.” He put out a hand to steady her and his touch did very strange things to her skin. It sizzled, fizzled and tingled.

It’s just the wine, ninny.

“Thank you, kind sir.”

Caleb’s eyebrows dipped in a frown. “Are you okay?”

Gosh, he seemed so serious. Meggie hiccupped, lifted a palm to her mouth and giggled. “Oops, sorry.”

“Don’t feel embarrassed around me. How long have we known each other?”

“Years and years and years.”

Man, he really was cute, especially when you focused on his perfect mouth.

Meggie narrowed her eyes and stared unabashedly at his lips. Gee. His mouth looked a lot like Don Juan’s. She must have a thing for really great mouths.

“Exactly. So you should feel free to say anything to me. Anything in the world.”

“Anything?”

She would bet her last quarter that wasn’t really true. What would he do if she told him she thought she might be developing a serious crush on his mouth? And that she was fighting the strongest urge to kick off her sneakers, run her toes up his shin and play a down-and-dirty game of footsie?

Ha! He’d probably make a human-size hole in the wall as he ran away from her.

“Anything,” he reiterated.

“Okay, then. I think I’ve had too much wine.”

“All right.” He took her glass away. “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

Damn, he seemed to know something was gnawing at her, and he obviously wasn’t going to let it lie. Served her right for knowing him more than half her life.

“Meggie, it’s me, Caleb. You know you can trust me with your darkest secrets.”

He reached out and squeezed her hand, giving her the courage to spill out her heart and ask his advice on how to stop fixating on yet another bad boy.

That did it. The giddiness of the wine, the warmth of this hand and her desperate desire to overcome her sexual obsession all culminated into one unstoppable urge to come clean about what she had been up to with that dastardly Don Juan.

“Caleb,” she whispered, “I’ve got something to confess.”

ONE SECOND. Two. Three. Was she going to tell him about Don Juan?

“Why don’t we go sit in front of the fire?” she invited with a coy little smile that jerked his heartstrings. “Get comfortable.”

“Okay.” He held out his palm. She hesitated only the briefest second before sinking her hand into his and allowing him to lead her into the living room area.

He wanted to kiss her so badly he couldn’t think, but he had to be careful, had to move slowly. When he’d bought her the mask this afternoon and she’d acted so oddly he thought maybe he’d already ruined everything. But tonight, preparing the meal together, and just now, when she’d agreed to tell him her darkest secret, Caleb felt the old sense of camaraderie return.

He also felt a nasty stab of guilt. Because she was tipsy, she was about to entrust him with her vulnerability, and he was the one lying to her. Should he stop her before she got started?

God forgive him, but he couldn’t. He had to hear what she was going to say.

They sat crossed-legged on the rug in front of the fire. Meggie pushed her hair back from her face. Lord, she was lovely. She leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed contentedly. The weight of her against him caused a sweet ache in his soul.

Her lashes drifted half-shut as she stared at the mesmerizing flames. Caleb’s anxiety mounted with each passing moment that she didn’t speak, but he was not going to rush her.

Finally she said, “I met this guy.”

Struggling to maintain a cool facade, he simply nodded.

She gave him a sideways glance, as if gauging his reaction, and seemed reassured. She told him then about how she’d met Don Juan at the Metropolitan party, how she didn’t even know his name but she’d recklessly given him her phone number. How he’d turned up in Seattle for one glorious night.

“He’s so wrong for me, but I’m afraid I’m hooked.”

Caleb pursed his lips but said nothing.

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m not thinking of this guy as happily ever after material. Not by a long shot.”

“No?”

“Honestly, I’m not. I didn’t want anything more from him than great sex.”

“Megs, this falls under the category of a little too much information.”

“I’ve embarrassed you. I was afraid of that. You still see me as an older sister figure, and here I am talking about sex.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” he growled. And the last thing I see you as is my sister. “Keep talking.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. I told you I’m here for you, no matter what.”

“Okay. Like I was saying, the last thing I want is any kind of a relationship with this guy.”

Caleb didn’t know what to think about this latest development. Or how to feel. He wanted her to want him, not Don Juan. But if she just wanted Don Juan for sex, what did that mean for him?

Damn. This whole deception was turning into a real mess. What had started out as a daring game had veered into dangerous territory.

“This guy is just a bit of the hair of the dog, if you know what I mean. I suppose I’m using him to get this wildness out of my system, to boost my ego. Doesn’t that sound terrible? Using a guy for sex.”

“Not if it’s what you need.”

“And it seems to be working.”

“Does it?”

“Well, except for one thing.”

“Yes?”

God, what a struggle to keep his tone noncommittal and not say anything that might do irreparable damage to their friendship.

“I’m completely obsessed with him,” she whispered.

He looked into her eyes, two glorious green vortexes shimmering with the seductive double whammy of shame and thrill. Her upper teeth sank into her full lower lip, and Meggie dipped her head a bit to hide her expression from his perusal.

Her confession caught him by surprise, while at the same time filled his heart with an inexplicable joy. Meggie was obsessed with him!

Not you, dimwit. She’s obsessed with a fantasy. When she finds out the truth, she’s gonna be mightily pissed off.

“I can’t stop thinking about him. I know it’s foolish, but there it is.” She knotted her fingers and dropped her hands into her lap.

“It’s just an infatuation.”

“I know. And even if it wasn’t, I realize this guy’s not right for me. I know nothing about him, and besides, how could a relationship built solely on sex ever stand a chance?”

“Do you want a real relationship with him?” Caleb dared to ask.

“No.” She shook her head vehemently. “I just wish I could stop thinking about him.”

“It’s the mystery that’s intrigued you. That’s all.”

“You’re absolutely right and that’s what I keep telling myself. I’m betting if I were to meet this guy without his mask and costume I wouldn’t be attracted to him in the slightest.”

Ouch. That wasn’t pleasant to hear. The whole Don Juan thing was backfiring on him. In the beginning, Caleb’s rationale for hiding behind the disguise was to convince Meggie to see him as a virile, potent man who desired her.

What had started as an impetuous impulse upon meeting Klondike Kate had turned into a driving desire to indulge his long-held fantasies, once he’d discovered who she was.

He recalled the first time he had became aware of Meggie as a woman. It was the summer he was fourteen and she was sixteen. She’d shown up to go sailing with him and Jesse and Quinn, wearing white short-shorts and a blue polka-dot halter top. He could still remember how the soft material had clung to her breasts. How he’d been completely fascinated by the sight.

He swallowed hard. He was slipping, sliding, tumbling headlong to a place he wasn’t sure he wanted to go because it was simply too overwhelming. And the realization that he wanted more from her, that two nights of anonymous sex were never going to be enough for him, scared the living hell out of Caleb.

What did it all mean?

“It’s getting late and the rain is drumming pretty hard on the roof,” he said, unnerved by the thoughts and memories rushing through his head. “I should go.”

“You don’t have to leave.”

“No?” He looked at her, and she was giving him a smile that was quintessential Meggie. His heart tripped. What was she implying?

“The couch makes into a bed,” she said, dashing his foolish hopes that she’d meant something else. “I keep an extra toothbrush in the cupboard in case of company.”

The idea of staying the night was incredibly tempting. Too damned tempting. He thought of lying on the couch while she slept in the next room, and he knew he’d never be able to do it.

“I think I better go. I have some paperwork to catch up on.”

“Oh, okay.”

She walked him to the door. They stood there a minute looking at each other.

“What I told you tonight was strictly confidential,” she said.

“Of course.”

“Thanks, Caleb. It helped, talking to you about my little, er…problem.”

“Anytime.”

She rose up on her toes, leaned in and planted a kiss on his cheek. “You’re the greatest.”

“See you tomorrow?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I’ve got to work and then I’ve got a committee meeting.”

“Monday?”

“I’ve got belly dancing class.”

“Oh.”

“But maybe after? We could go to a movie or a comedy club or check out a local band.”

“Sounds good.” He didn’t care where he went or what he did as long as Meggie was there.

“Why don’t you pick me up at the dance studio? My class is over at seven.”

The thought of watching Meggie belly dance drove a spike of hot, achy need right through his spine. And the imprint of her lips still burned his cheek, feeding his libido. It was all he could do not to kiss her back, and this time not on the cheek.

She gave him the address of the studio, then ruffled his hair. “Good night, little brother. See ya on Monday.”

Caleb left her apartment gritting his teeth and clutching the pink paisley umbrella she had given him, knowing one thing for certain. He would have to take some very determined steps to show Meggie exactly how unbrotherly he could be.

But where and how to start?

He had no idea how to go about seducing her without that damnable mask.

MEGGIE SHUT THE DOOR behind Caleb and sagged against it, thankful he’d decided not to stay the night. But she was not really sure why she was so relieved. Probably because she felt pretty darned vulnerable after spilling her guts to him about Don Juan. Why had she told Caleb all that stuff?

Or maybe you’re glad he left because of the way he’s starting to make you feel, an irritating voice in the back of her mind whispered.

Frowning, Meggie began putting their dinner dishes in the dishwasher. That was ridiculous. She wasn’t feeling any differently toward Caleb than she ever had.

Oh no? Then why were you noticing how nicely his long legs looked stretched out across your carpet? Why were you admiring the way his dark hair curls around his collar? And I saw you staring at his chiseled-from-granite biceps.

“I wasn’t,” she retorted, jamming forks, spoons and knives into the silverware holder.

Liar.

What about the way he’d listened to her confession about Don Juan, without a hint of judgment or condemnation on his face?

“So he’s a good friend. I already knew that.”

You kissed him.

“On the friggin’ cheek.”

First comes the cheek. The lips are bound to follow.

“Oh, shut up.”

She scrubbed her large cooking pot, attacking the starchy linguini residue with a vengeance.

And then you went and invited him to come watch you belly dance. Now tell the truth, what in the hell was that all about?

What indeed?

“This is preposterous,” she muttered. “I’m not attracted to Caleb Greenleaf, for heaven’s sake.”

Why not? This time it was Wendy’s voice echoing in her head. He’s handsome and smart and rich. Reliable and trustworthy and kind.

Why not, indeed?

Meggie rinsed off a dinner plate. Well, for one thing, he had shown absolutely no indication of being interested in her.

He bought you the porcelain mask.

“Big deal. He’s a generous guy.”

He cooked dinner.

“He was just thanking me for showing him around town.”

Why are you showing him around town?

“He’s an old friend!”

Yeah, right.

“He is,” Meggie stubbornly insisted to herself.

Okay, so why haven’t you introduced him to Wendy yet?

“Because he’s all wrong for her.”

Really? Maybe it’s because you think he’s all right for you.

“Come on, he’s not interested in me!”

And even if he was interested in her, which she seriously doubted, Meggie wasn’t about to embarrass herself by coming on to a younger man. No way, no how.

I’d rather be an old man’s darling than a young man’s fool. One of Wendy’s favorite reasons for dating older men flitted through her head.

And Meggie was a little gun-shy about taking a risk and laying her emotions on the line, which no doubt explained her interest in her no-strings-attached relationship with Don Juan. With him she didn’t have to worry about getting hurt. Caleb, however, was another story completely. Just thinking about Caleb in this strange new way caused her to hyperventilate.

No. Absolutely not.

Meggie cringed, imagining what her mother would say, how the gossip would fly from one corner of Bear Creek to the other.

“We’re just friends!” she shouted to the wall. “Nothing’s changed.”

But in her heart, she wasn’t so sure she believed that.

THE DANCE STUDIO was chockful of attractive women, but Caleb had eyes for only one. He was standing outside the door of Meggie’s belly dancing class, peering through the glass partition and trying hard to work up the courage to step inside.

So strong was his desire for her, Caleb didn’t trust himself not to have an overt physical reaction, and he didn’t want to embarrass them both in public with a gigantic erection.

When had he lost control over his own body? What was it about Meggie that caused him to act like a horny teenager in the throes of a hormonal storm?

He watched greedily as she undulated in the middle of the room with the other dancers. She wore a gauzy little I Dream of Jeannie outfit that showed far too much of her smooth flat belly.

She was the most conspicuous woman in the room, moving with the grace of a true performer. Her arms were raised over her head as she clicked tiny cymbals attached to her fingers. She turned with the group, but she was much more graceful than the others. She was facing away from him now, rolling those curvaceous hips as if she were personally beckoning him to her.

Come.

God, she was hot!

Shake it, baby. The crude, yet thoroughly masculine thought bounced through his brain. He felt like a voyeur, like some kind of a Peeping Tom pervert, but he simply could not stop himself from watching…and wishing she was performing this erotic dance just for him. He hated the thought that anyone else might see her and lust after her.