A Thrill to Remember (6 page)

He had her exactly where he wanted her. Caleb reached for her hand and held it tightly in his, even though she tried to pull back.

Eventually the throbbing in his groin would abate. Eventually.

“I want to see you again,” he told her.

“No,” she said adamantly, reverting back to her Klondike Kate drawl. “This is supposed to be a one-night stand. Now take your pants off.”

“Relax. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“You don’t understand. I don’t want anything more from you than sex.”

“I’m not saying I do, either,” he cajoled, but his stomach pitched. Truth be told, he would like to see where this attraction might lead. See if the powerful sexual pull might take them to something deeper, more meaningful. “But I think dragging out the seduction will make it so much more memorable when we finally do go all the way.”

Her nails bit into his palms. “It’s not such a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Tonight we were overcome—by hormones, the full moon, by our costumes. It was magical, special. Why ruin it? Just make love to me now so things aren’t lopsided, and then I’ll slip away into the darkness. Let’s leave this a wonderful flight of fancy.”

“I can’t accept that.”

What was the matter with him? What she was proposing was every guy’s wildest fantasy. Anonymous sex with a beautiful stranger. No strings attached. No consequences. No regrets. Except more than anything in the world, he wanted to see her again. He was taking a risk, pressuring her like this, and he knew it, but he felt it was a risk worth taking.

“I must see you again,” he insisted, unable to quell the urgency building inside him. “I must know more about you.”

“Impossible.”

“But why?” Then he froze as an ugly suspicion dawned. “Are you married?”

“No.”

Caleb exhaled in relief. Thank heavens. He wasn’t a home wrecker. “Then why deny us this pleasure?”

“Simple logistics, my dear Don Juan. I’m leaving town tomorrow morning.”

“You’re not from Bear Creek then?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry, but I cannot let you get away.” Stubbornly, he clung to her hand.

“Please, Don Juan, this was nothing more than an extravagant game. We both got turned on, but it’s no more than that. Please, let it go.”

“It’s more than a game and you know it.”

“It’s not,” she insisted.

“All right then,” he said, scrambling for something he could say that would change her mind. “Let me help you get dressed and I’ll walk you back to the party.”

Several minutes later, they were clothed again and walking through the forest hand in hand. His body was still stiff from wanting her. His mind raced with ways to convince her to see him a second time. Things couldn’t end on this disappointing note.

Caleb led her into a moonlit field not far from the community center where the party still continued. Laughter, music, the sound of car doors slamming echoed in the still of the night.

He stopped, drew her closer to him and stared into that unfathomable face hidden so dramatically behind the red-feathered mask.

“What if I happened to come to where you lived? I travel a lot on business,” he lied, still speaking in his Don Juan accent, reluctant to release the disguise and break the enchantment. “Could I see you then?”

She paused for a long moment. “Perhaps. I don’t know.”

His heart leaped with hope. “You realize this was special. How often have you felt this way?”

She inhaled deeply. “I’m not sure this is such a good idea.”

“Think of all the fun we could have.”

“Do you swear that it would only be fun? Nothing else? I don’t want anything else.”

“Nothing else,” he promised. At this point he would promise her anything to get her phone number.

“I’m doing this against my better judgment, but you’re right,” she said. “I’ve never felt anything like what happened between us tonight. You’ve made me feel like a desirable woman.”

He made a deep sound of approval. “You are a desirable woman.”

“Okay.” She swallowed audibly. “Here’s the deal. I’ll whisper my phone number to you and if you can remember it, then you can call me.”

Caleb’s pulse pounded in his ears. He was beset by the riddle of her. He wanted her so badly it hurt. Wanted to be inside her, buried deep.

“Sweetheart, I could never forget,” he crooned, meaning every word.

She whispered the number.

“What?” Startled, he shook his head, certain he had heard incorrectly. “Please say that one more time.”

She repeated herself.

With the rapidity of lightning striking, his blood froze. His world skidded to a screeching halt. His ears echoed with the sound of her voice mouthing those digits. Realization dawned. He knew that number. Had called it many times over the years.

“Good night,” she whispered. “And if I never see you again, goodbye. I’ll always remember the precious gift you gave me in the skaters’ cabin, Don Juan. Thank you.”

Then, without another word, she turned and started toward the community center, her graceful body illuminated in moon glow.

He literally could not speak. His senses reeled. He splayed a palm over his heart. He knew now who she was. No wonder she had sounded familiar. No wonder he had been so inexplicably attracted to her.

She was the woman who had dominated his teenage fantasies. The very same woman who had once been married to his stepbrother Jesse.

Klondike Kate, the lady upon whom he’d just performed sexual maneuvers, was none other than his unrequited childhood crush.

Meggie Scofield.

“HOT DAMN, woman. I love the hair!” Wendy Roseneau, Meggie’s next-door neighbor and good friend for the past five years, declared.

It was three days after her return home to Seattle. Wendy, a brown-eyed, bottle blonde with Kewpie doll cheeks and a Cindy Crawford beauty mark over her upper lip, settled her hands on her hips and nodded approvingly as Vincent, a tattooed, nose-pierced, fuchsia-haired stylist at En Avant!, the trendiest salon in Seattle, put the finishing touches on Meggie’s dashing new coif.

“Your friend’s right, darling. You look absolutely plucky,” Vincent enthused.

Plucky? Her?

Sure. Why not? Yes, by gosh. Her. Plucky.

“You were in desperate need of a change,” Vincent continued, waving his hand with a theatrical flourish. “That bland Buster Brown blunt cut you were sporting was just too, too retro. I’m sooo glad you chose me to be the artist of your transformation. You are my masterpiece, my muse, my Mona Lisa.”

Okay, so Vincent was a bit of a drama queen but he did have a point. The conversion was startling.

Meggie stared into the mirror. The difference in her appearance astounded her. The spiky cut flipped out from her head in short, sassy wisps. The style not only slimmed her face and accentuated her green eyes but also lent her a hip, dynamic edge.

She looked like the kind of woman who took life full throttle. It was exactly what she’d been seeking when she’d plunked herself in Vincent’s chair and asked him to create a wild, new, independent persona for her.

“Wow,” she murmured and reached up to lightly finger her hair. “Wow.”

“Wow indeed,” Wendy concurred. “You should have gotten divorced years ago. Freedom definitely agrees with you.”

“It’s not just the divorce,” Meggie whispered to Wendy as she slipped Vincent a tip so big he actually purred.

Normally, she wasn’t the kind of woman to kiss and tell, but she was filled to the bursting with thoughts of her erotic night with Don Juan.

“Oh no?” Wendy rubbed her hands gleefully. “I smell a juicy story. What’s up?”

“Come on. I’ll tell you later. In the meantime I’m buying a whole new wardrobe at La Chic Freak.”

Wendy plastered a hand over her heart. “You? In La Chic Freak?”

“Yep. I’m going for leather and lace and chains. And who knows? Maybe I’ll even get a henna tattoo.”

“Omigosh, I thought I’d never live to see the day you decided to recognize your full potential and rebel against that good-girl image that’s kept you trapped in that tight little black-and-white box. I’m so proud of you, Megs.” Wendy wrapped her in a honeysuckle-scented hug.

“Me, too,” Vincent chimed in. “You go, girlfriend.”

Geez. She knew she’d been something of fuddy-duddy but she had no idea everyone had been holding their breath just waiting for her to cut loose. This had certainly been a week of prolonged self-discovery.

And it’s all because you stepped outside your comfort zone and took a gamble.

The evening she’d spent in the skaters’ cabin with Don Juan had been the most liberating experience of her life. Ever since that fateful night she felt changed in ways she couldn’t explain. Ways that made her long for all the things she’d missed. Why had she hidden her light under a bushel all these years?

Well, no more. From now on, everything was going to be different.

She and Wendy left the salon and headed for La Chic Freak. An hour later she emerged wearing a red mesh blouse and a matching red leather miniskirt so short it would have caused even Klondike Kate to blush. In her hands swung a shopping bag filled with equally intrepid clothing.

“Okay,” Wendy said as they wandered down the street. “We’re out of earshot of anyone. Spill it. What in the world happened to you in Alaska?”

She tried not to smirk, but couldn’t help herself. “I met the most awesome guy.”

“Get out!”

“It’s true.”

Wendy stopped walking and smacked her forehead with a palm. “No, no, no. Please say it ain’t so.”

“What?” Meggie felt perplexed. “I thought you would be happy that I met someone.”

“Yes, in a year or so. Maybe. Not yet. It’s too soon after your divorce, sweetie.”

“I’ve been divorced for six months.”

“No good can come of this relationship. He’s nothing but the transition guy. A temporary fix. You need to live a little before you get involved with anyone else.”

“Give me some credit, will you? I totally realize that. Why do you think I got this new haircut and bought new outfits? Believe me, this thing with Don Juan was nothing but a fling.”

“Don Juan? Oh, please tell me you’re kidding.”

“Settle down. Don Juan’s not his real name and, besides, I’m never going to see him again.”

“You? A one-night stand?” Wendy shook her head, incredulous. “Not that there’s anything wrong with a good, lusty romp in the hay once in a while, but I just never thought you of all people…”

“Not only that,” Meggie whispered. “I don’t even know his real name.”

“What?”

Leaving out the most intimate details, Meggie told Wendy about Don Juan, the costume party and the cabin in the woods.

“From what you describe it sounds like there was a whole lot of sexual chemistry going on,” Wendy said when Meggie had finished. “That kind of passion can be hard to ignore, particularly with a guy who has obviously made you feel special. I have been there and I’ve been burned. Be careful, sweetie. I’d hate to see you get hurt.”

“Don’t worry. He doesn’t know my name, either. We were two ships passing in the night.”

“Well,” Wendy said, linking her arm through Meggie’s and continuing down the street to where they’d parked the car, “maybe you’re right. Maybe this was exactly what you needed. I certainly approve of the changes in you.”

“Honestly, I swear, it’s just what the doctor ordered. I’ve never felt so free. It’s like I’ve unearthed this confidence in myself I didn’t even know I had.”

“And you promise you’re never going to see this guy again?”

“I promise.” Meggie held up two fingers. “Girl Scouts’ honor.”

“That’s good. As long as you’re not tempted to jump into a relationship with a man you don’t know just because the sex is stupendous.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then congratulations on stretching the limits of your imagination.”

“Thank you,” Meggie said, but a nagging little voice reminded her that she wasn’t being completely honest with her friend. She had given Don Juan her telephone number.

But what were the chances of him even remembering her number? And if he did remember it, what were the odds of him calling her or ever coming to Seattle to see her?

Very slim to none. She was safe with her lusty memories. She didn’t have to worry about falling hard for some stranger in a black leather mask. All Meggie cared about was exploring her newfound sense of adventure in whatever form it might take. New hairstyle, new clothes, new experiences.

And speaking of new experiences…

She stopped in front of the dance studio sandwiched between La Chic Freak and En Avant! Through the window she spied a group of costumed belly dancers executing a series of mesmerizing gyrations.

For the longest time she had hankered to take belly dancing lessons, but because Jesse had called her an awkward klutz the time she had tried to do a striptease for him, Meggie had felt too self-conscious about her body to give belly dancing a go.

Well, phooey on her ex and his stupid opinions. Thanks to Don Juan she was more than eager to rip the envelope of adventure wide open.

Purposefully, she pushed through the door of the dance studio.

“Hey,” Wendy said. “Where you are going?”

Meggie glanced over her shoulder at her friend and grinned. “To stretch the limits of my imagination.”

“MAY I SPEAK TO YOU in my office?” Meggie’s boss, Jenny Arbenoit, asked three weeks after her shopping spree with Wendy.

“Sure,” Meggie said, wondering what was up.

She didn’t think she’d made any mistakes lately, but perhaps she had gone overboard with her newfound confidence. Recently, she had stopped kowtowing to the doctors’ every whim, and she’d also started making more decisions based on her own assessments without asking for corroboration from her colleagues as she once had. A sinking sensation settled in her stomach.

It was a slow afternoon in the emergency department. The nurses had been enjoying a welcome respite from earlier in the week, when they’d been deluged with nearly an epidemic of children suffering from high fevers related to a recent outbreak of a Lyme disease type illness. Meggie had been catching up on paperwork when Jenny singled her out.

Mouth dry, and prepared to offer an apology, she followed Jenny into her office.

“Have a seat.” Her boss indicated a chair and closed the door behind them.

Meggie sat and nervously eyed the older woman.

“Meggie, ever since you returned from your leave of absence, I’ve noticed a change in you.”

“Mrs. Arbenoit, if I’ve done anything—”

Jenny held up her hand. “Please, let me finish. Several of your co-workers have also commented on your new attitude. You’ve always been a good nurse—kind, caring, considerate of others—but until these last few weeks you have lacked the kind of self-confidence that would make you management material.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your exemplary performance during this latest public health crisis has not gone unnoticed by the doctors. You’ve assumed more responsibility and presented yourself as a thorough professional.”

Meggie’s head spun. She wasn’t being taken to task. She was being praised.

“We were hoping you would accept a position on the community health education board. Do you think this is something that might interest you?”

“Absolutely.” Ideas sprouted in her head. She loved teaching patients, and this was a marvelous opportunity to boost her career.

“Excellent, excellent.” Jenny Arbenoit got to her feet and extended her hand. “I’m looking forward to working on the board with you.”

“Thanks.” Meggie shook her hand, a sense of pride filling her chest. A new job offer because of her increased self-confidence. Just one more debt of gratitude she owed to Don Juan.

CALEB STARED OUT the window of the ranger station at the vast white expanse of new-fallen snow. It had been six weeks since that fateful night he’d discovered his new lover was none other than his teenage fantasy woman. Six weeks since his world had been turned completely upside down. For the first time in his life, the wilderness he loved so deeply felt desolate and lonely.

With Meggie gone, everything in his world seemed quiet, dull, empty. He got through his daily routine, but nothing brought him joy. Listlessly, he dug in the pocket of his crisp, hunter-green uniform shirt and pulled out a photograph he’d gleaned from an old album—a picture Jesse had taken of him and Meggie together on the rare occasion he’d visited them in Seattle.

It had been Christmas Eve. He and Meggie were sitting on the couch together. He had on a Santa hat, and she wore a blue package bow stuck in her hair. They’d had too much holiday eggnog, and Meggie, with one arm thrown over his shoulder, was mugging cutely for the camera. He’d been staring at her with a look of such deep admiration it was a wonder neither Jesse nor Meggie had ever noticed. Hell, even Caleb had never realized before how much like a lovesick puppy he looked.

And he’d told himself he’d gotten over his childhood crush. Ha! One glance at the photo and he knew he’d been lying to himself for years.

The photograph was frayed now, the edges curled from wear. As he did every day since discovering Klondike Kate was actually Meggie, he traced a finger over the picture and murmured her name.

He recalled how she’d looked the last time he’d seen her, dressed in that scarlet bustier and auburn wig. He thought of her sweet scent, and his imagination supplied the aroma he was searching for—jasmine soap, strawberry shampoo and a hint of Obsession cologne.

His brain didn’t stop with scent memories. He thought about those cinnamon freckles that decorated her collarbone and those intelligent green eyes the color of verdant summer grass. He envisioned her soft, womanly curves, the creamy taste of her full, rich lips and the way she’d felt wrapped in his arms. The way her body had responded to his touch.

In a twinkling, he was transported back to that astounding night.

Slowly, tenderly, he removes her red-feathered mask and the long auburn wig in order to reveal her own coal-black hair. She does not resist. She is not ashamed to let him see her face. And when he removes his mask, she is not alarmed or upset. He sucks in his breath, overwhelmed. His heart thumps at her easy acceptance of his role as her lover.

She wants him. In fact, she lifts her arms to him and a tempting smile teases her lips as she slowly undoes the top hook of her bustier.

Another tiny hook undone. Another and then another, until the stiff lacy material lays open just beneath the swell of her breasts. The cool evening breeze causes her nipples to tighten into pink pouting buds.

Her eyelids drift closed. Loose tendrils of dark hair curl invitingly over her forehead. Her lips part. She tips her chin up.