First Impressions (6 page)

In her eyes, Vance saw the clouds of passion, the lights of fear. Her mouth was bruised and swollen from the fierceness of his. He frowned at it. Never before had he been rough with a woman. For the most part, he was a considerate lover, perhaps indifferent at times but never ungentle. He took a step back from her. “I'm sorry,” he said stiffly.

Shane lifted her fingers to her still-tender lips in a nervous gesture. Her reaction, much more than Vance's technique, had left her shaken. Where had all that fire and feeling been hiding all this time? she wondered. “I don't . . .” Shane had to clear her throat to manage more than a whisper. “I don't want you to be sorry.”

Vance studied her steadily for a moment. “It would be better all around if you did.” Reaching in his back pocket, he drew out a list. “Here are the materials you'll need. Let me know when they're delivered.”

“All right.” Shane accepted the list. When he started to walk away, she drew up all of her courage. “Vance . . .” He paused and turned back to her. “I'm not sorry,” she told him quietly.

He didn't answer, but walked around the side of the house and disappeared.

Chapter 5

Shane decided she had worked harder over the previous three days than she had ever worked in her life. The spare bedroom and dining room were loaded with packing boxes, labeled and listed and sealed. The house had been scrubbed and swept and dusted from top to bottom. She had pored through catalogs on antiques until the words ran together. Every item she owned was listed systematically. The dating and pricing was more grueling for her than the manual work and often kept her up until the early hours of the morning. She would be up to start again the moment the sunlight woke her. Yet her energy never flagged. With each step of progress she made, the excitement grew, pushing her to make more.

As the time passed, she became more convinced, and more confident, that what she was doing was right. It
felt
right. She needed to find her own way—the sacrifices and the financial risk were necessary. She didn't intend to fail.

For her, the shop would be not only a business but an adventure. Though Shane was impatient for the adventure to begin, as always, the planning and anticipation were just as stimulating to her. She had contracted with a roofer and a plumber, and had chosen her paints and stains. Just that afternoon, in a torrent of rain, the materials she had ordered from Vance's list had been delivered. The mundane, practical occurrence had given her a thrill of accomplishment. Somehow, the lumber, nails and bolts had been tangible evidence that she was on her way. Shane told herself that Antietam Antiques and Museum would become a reality when the first board was set in place.

Excited, she had phoned Vance, and if he were true to his word, he would begin work the next morning.

Over a solitary cup of cocoa in the kitchen, Shane listened to the constant drumming rain and thought of him. He had been brief and businesslike on the phone. She hadn't been offended. She had come to realize that moodiness was part of his character. This made him only more attractive.

The windows were dark as she stared out, with a ghostly reflection of the kitchen light on the wet panes. She thought idly about starting a fire to chase away the damp chill, but she had little inclination to move. Instead, she rubbed the bottom of one bare foot over the top of the other and decided it was too bad her socks were all the way upstairs.

Sluggishly, a drip fell from the ceiling into a pot on the floor. It gave a surprising ping now and again. There were several other pots set at strategic places throughout the house. Shane didn't mind the rain or the isolation. The sensation of true loneliness was almost foreign to her. Content with her own company, the activity of her own mind, she craved no companionship at that moment, nor would she have shunned it. Yet she thought of Vance, wondering if he sat watching the rain through a darkened window.

Yes, she admitted, she was very much attracted to him. And it was more than a physical response when he held her, when he kissed her in that sudden, terrifyingly exciting way. Just being in his presence was stimulating—sensing the storm beneath the calm. There was an amazing drive in him. The drive of a man uncomfortable, even impatient, with idleness. The lack of a job, she thought with a sympathetic sigh, must frustrate him terribly.

Shane understood his need to produce, to be active, although her own spurts of frantic energy were patchworked with periods of unapologetic laziness. She moved fast but didn't rush. She could work for hours without tiring, or sleep until noon without the least blush of guilt. Whichever she did, she did wholeheartedly. It was vital to her to find some way to enjoy the most menial or exhausting task. She concluded that while Vance would work tirelessly, he would find the enjoyment unnecessary.

The basic difference in their temperaments didn't trouble her. Her interest in history, plus her teaching experience, had given her insight into the variety of human nature. It wasn't necessary to her that Vance's thoughts and moods flow along the same stream as hers. Such comfortable compatibility would offer little excitement and no surprises at all. Absolute harmony, she mused, could be lovely, rather sweet and very bland. There were more . . . interesting things.

She'd seen a spark of humor in him, perhaps an almost forgotten sense of the ridiculous. And he was far from cold. While she accepted his faults and their differences, these qualities caused her to accept her own attraction to him.

What she had felt from the first meeting had only intensified. There was no logic in it, no sense, but her heart had known instantly that he was the man she'd waited for. Though she'd told herself it was impossible, Shane knew the impossible had an uncanny habit of happening just the same. Love at first sight? Ridiculous. But . . .

Impossible or not, ridiculous or not, Shane's heart was set. It was true she gave her affections easily, but she didn't give them lightly. The love she had felt for Cy had been a young, impressionable love, but it had been very real. It had taken her a long time to get over it.

Shane had no illusions about Vance Banning. He was a difficult man. Even with spurts of kindness and humor, he would never be anything else. There was too much anger in him, too much drive. And while Shane could accept the phenomenon of love at first sight on her part, she was practical enough to know it wasn't being reciprocated.

He desired her. She might puzzle over this, never having thought of herself as a woman to attract desire, but she recognized it. Yet, though he wanted her, he kept his distance. This was the reserve in him, she decided, the studied caution that warred with the passion.

Idly, she sipped her drink and stared out into the rain. The problem as Shane saw it was to work her way through the barrier. She had loved before, and faced pain and emptiness. She could accept pain again, but she was determined not to face emptiness a second time. She wanted Vance Banning. Now all she had to do was to make him want her. Smiling a little, Shane set down her cup. She'd been raised to succeed.

The glare of headlights against the window surprised her. Rising, Shane went to the back door to see who'd come visiting in the rain. Cupping her hands on either side of her face, she peered through the wet glass. She recognized the car and immediately threw open the door. Cold rain hurled itself into her face, but she laughed, watching Donna scramble around puddles with her head lowered.

“Hi!” Still laughing, Shane stepped back as her friend dashed through the door. “You got a little wet,” she observed.

“Very funny.” Donna stripped off her raincoat to hang it on a peg near the back door. With the casualness of an old friend, she stepped out of her wet loafers. “I figured you were hibernating. Here.” She handed Shane a pound can of coffee.

“A welcome home present?” Shane asked, turning the can over curiously. “Or a hint that you'd like some?”

“Neither.” Shaking her head, Donna ran her fingers through her wet hair. “You bought it the other day, then left it at the store.”

“I did?” Shane thought about it a moment, then laughed. “Oh, that's right. Thanks. Who's minding the store while you're out making deliveries?” Turning, she popped the can into a cupboard.

“Dave.” With a sigh, Donna plopped onto a kitchen chair. “His sister's babysitting, so he kicked me out.”

“Aw, out in the storm.”

“He knew I was restless.” She glanced out the window. “It doesn't seem as though this rain's ever going to let up.” With a shiver, she frowned at Shane's bare feet. “Aren't you cold?”

“I thought about starting a fire,” she said absently, then grinned. “It seemed like an awful lot of trouble.”

“So's the flu.”

“The cocoa's still warm,” Shane told her, automatically reaching for another cup. “Want some?”

“Yes, thanks.” Donna ran her fingers through her hair again, then folded her hands, but she couldn't keep them still. Suddenly, she gave Shane a glowing smile. “I have to tell you before I burst.”

Mildly curious, Shane looked over her shoulder. “Tell me what?”

“I'm having another baby.”

“Oh, Donna, that's wonderful!” Shane felt a twinge of envy. Hurriedly dismissing it, she went to hug her friend. “When?”

“Not for another seven months.” Laughing, Donna wiped the rain from her face. “I'm just as excited as I was the first time. Dave is too, though he's trying to be very nonchalant.” She sent Shane a beaming look. “He's managed to mention it, very casually, to everyone who came into the store this afternoon.”

Shane gave her another quick hug. “You know how lucky you are?”

“Yes, I do.” A little sheepishly, she grinned. “I've spent all day thinking up names. What do you think of Charlotte and Samuel?”

“Very distinguished.” Shane moved back to the stove. After pouring cocoa, she brought two cups to the table. “Here's to little Charlotte or Samuel.”

“Or Andrew or Justine,” Donna said as they touched rims.

“How many kids are you planning to have?” Shane asked wryly.

“Just one at a time.” Donna gave her stomach a proud little pat.

The gesture made Shane smile. “Did you say Dave's sister was watching Benji? Isn't she still in school?”

“No, she graduated this summer. Right now she's hunting for a new job.” With a contented sigh, Donna sat back. “She was planning to go to college part-time, but money's tight and the hours she's working right now make it next to impossible.” Her brow creased in sympathy. “The best she can manage this term is a couple of night classes twice a week. At that rate it's going to take her a long time to earn a degree.”

“Hmm.” Shane stared into her cocoa. “Pat was a very bright girl as I remember.”

“Bright and pretty as a picture.”

Shane nodded. “Tell her to come see me.”

“You?”

“After the shop's set up, I'm going to need some part-time help.” She glanced over absently as the wind hurled rain at the windows. “I wouldn't be able to do anything for her for a month or so, but if she's still interested, we should be able to work something out.”

“Shane, she'll be thrilled. But are you sure you can afford to hire someone?”

With a toss of her head, Shane lifted her drink. “I'll know within the first six months if I'm going to make it.” As she considered, she twisted a curl around her finger—a gesture Donna recognized as nerves. She drew her brows together but said nothing. “I want to keep the place open seven days a week,” Shane continued. “Weekends are bound to be the busiest time if I manage to lure in any tourists. Between sales and bookkeeping, inventory and the buying I have to do, I won't be able to manage alone. If I'm going down,” she murmured, “I'm going down big.”

“I've never known you to do anything halfway,” Donna observed with a trace of admiration vying with concern. “I'd be scared to death.”

“I am a little scared,” Shane admitted. “Sometimes I imagine this place the way it's going to look, and I see customers coming in to handle merchandise. I see all the rooms and records I'm going to have to keep . . .” She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “What makes me think I can handle all that?”

“As long as I can remember, you've handled everything that came your way.” Donna paused a moment as she considered Shane carefully. “You're going to try this no matter how many pitfalls I point out?”

A grin had Shane's dimples deepening. “Yes.”

“Then I won't point out any,” Donna said with a wry smile. “What I will say is that if anyone can make it work, you can.”

After frowning into her cocoa, Shane raised her eyes to Donna's. “Why?”

“Because you'll give it everything you've got.”

The simplicity of the answer made Shane laugh. “You're sure that'll be enough?”

“Yes,” Donna said so seriously that Shane sobered.

“I hope you're right,” Shane murmured, then shook off the doubts. “It's a little late in the game to start worrying about it now. So,” she continued in a lighter tone, “what's new besides Justine or Samuel?”

After a moment's hesitation, Donna plunged ahead. “Shane, I saw Cy the other day.”

“Did you?” Shane lifted a brow as she sipped. “So did I.”

Donna moistened her lips. “He seemed very . . . ah, concerned about your plans.”

“Critical and concerned are entirely different things,” Shane pointed out, then smiled as the color in Donna's cheeks deepened. “Oh, don't worry about it, Donna. Cy's never approved of any of my ideas. It doesn't bother me anymore. In fact, the less he approves,” she continued slowly, “the more I'm sure it's the right thing to do. I don't think he's ever taken a chance in his entire life.” Noting that Donna was busy gnawing on her bottom lip, Shane fixed her with a straight look. “Okay, what else?”

“Shane.” Donna paused, then began running her fingertip around and around the rim of her cup. Shane recognized the stalling gesture and kept silent. “I think I should tell you before—well, before you hear it from someone else. Cy . . .”

Shane waited patiently for a few seconds. “Cy what?” she demanded. Miserably, Donna looked up.

“He's been seeing quite a lot of Laurie MacAfee.” Seeing Shane's eyes widen, Donna continued in a rush. “I'm sorry, Shane, so sorry, but I did think you should know. And I figured it might be easier hearing it from me. I think . . . well, I'm afraid it's serious.”

“Laurie . . .” Shane broke off and seemed to stare, fascinated, at the water dripping into the pot. “
Laurie MacAfee?
” she managed after a strangled moment.

“Yes,” Donna said quietly, and she stared down at the table. “Rumor is they'll be married next summer.” Donna waited, unhappily, for Shane's reaction. When she heard the burst of wild laughter, she looked up, fearing hysterics.

“Laurie MacAfee!” Shane pounded her palms on the table and laughed until she thought she would burst. “Oh, it's wonderful; it's perfect! Oh God. Oh God, what an
admirable
couple!”