Monkey Wrench (27 page)

“Susannah, it's time to grow.”

She laughed. “That's what I've been telling you, Roger!”

He frowned. “I don't understand.”

“I want to grow, too. But growth for me doesn't include a broader television audience. I'm ready for some personal growth.”

“We can do both,” Roger said earnestly, “by expanding the horizons of the show, Susannah. Wouldn't you like to know more about medical matters? Or—”

“Or computers? Or snakes? No, Roger, I want to know more about
me.
”

“But—”

“Look, Roger, why can't you expand the program without me? If you really want to change the focus of the show, why don't you use all these wonderful people you've found and let me be one of the crowd?”

“The show is called—”

“I know what it's called. But names can be changed.”

“We don't want to lose you, Susannah.”

“Maybe not...” She smiled. “You wanted to talk to me
about all this at the beach, didn't you, Roger? You wanted to get me alone, wear me down and make me agree to all your new plans.”

“That's not it at all.” But Roger turned a charming shade of pink. “I wanted your input.”

“But you'd already made the decision.”

“Don't be angry, Susannah.”

“I'm not.” Susannah found herself flushing with excitement. “I'm really not angry. I'm happy, in fact.”

“Look, we certainly do want you to continue to anchor the show. You're the mainstay, Susannah. You're the glue that holds everything together.”

“Josie holds everything together. She's the brains behind the scenes.”

“But you're the personality
on
the scene. Not just for the audience, but for the crew and staff as well. We need you, Susannah. We're prepared to make a lot of changes in your contract to make you happy. It's up for renewal in three months, you know.”

“Yes, I know.”

Roger heard Susannah's tone and looked at her for a long time. “I'm not sure I like the look in your eye.”

Contract renewal time. It was always a good chance to make some changes. Susannah laughed and picked up her menu again.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Because I'm happy, of course.”

“But...but—”

“Don't look so worried, Roger. Look, here's the champagne you ordered.”

“Suddenly I don't feel like drinking it.”

Roger looked positively glum while the waitress planted the champagne cooler by his chair. She pulled the bottle out of the cracked ice, ready to pop the cork, but Roger waved her off. “I'll open it in a moment,” he said.

“Fine, sir. Are you ready to order?”

“Not yet,” he said. “Give us a few minutes. Susannah...”

But he was prevented from continuing their conversation by the arrival of Santa Claus.

“Ho, ho, ho!” The powerful voice boomed across the restaurant, causing heads to turn and laughter to break out.

The tall, red-coated man stepped into the restaurant, waving merrily. He headed for the chair in the middle of the room, shaking hands with a few of the men and kissing the hands of ladies along the way. He caused quite a stir. His white beard almost ended up in someone's soup, and his gleaming black boots left a trail of snow across the carpet. But everyone in the restaurant responded with good cheer.

From the lounge came the sound of someone playing “Here Comes Santa Claus,” on the piano. Everyone clapped and a few people began to sing as Santa made his way across the room. The jolly fellow used the sleeve of his red coat to polish the bald head of one of a group of local businessmen, causing more laughter.

Susannah watched the fun, smiling. But when the white pom-pom on Santa's red hat fell over his face and he blew it out of the way with a noisy puff, she gasped. Then she laughed, too. “Oh, no!”

Roger looked around at the commotion. “What's going on?”

Santa made his way across the room, working his audience like a pro. At last he reached the table where Susannah and Roger sat, and he struck a pose with his fists braced on his hips. “Ho, ho, ho!”

Susannah smiled up at him and patted the pillow that was his belly. “Merry Christmas, Santa.”

“Merry Christmas to you, Miss Suzie,” said a familiar voice. Joe's dark eyes gleamed from behind the spectacles, and he grasped Susannah's hand. “Have you been a good girl this year?”

“Oh, yes, Santa, a very good girl.”

“Then come with me,” he intoned, “and we'll discuss your Christmas list.”

Roger's mouth gaped as Susannah was swept out of her
seat by Santa Claus, who also made a grab for the champagne bottle and made off with both prizes. He led Susannah to the big chair beside the Christmas tree and made a show of bowing and inviting her by pantomime to sit. The restaurant diners laughed and clapped, so Susannah graciously curtsied and sat primly in the big chair while Santa knelt on one knee before her and popped the cork on the champagne. A waitress appeared at his elbow with two glasses, and Joe poured. He handed one to Susannah, who accepted it with a bow of her head.

No one in Tyler would let Joe Santori get by without singing a Christmas song, and the pianist soon played the opening chords of “I'll Be Home for Christmas.”

Joe groaned laughingly and tried to refuse.

“Please sing,” Susannah encouraged, too softly for anyone else to hear.

He kissed her hand. “How can I say no to you?”

So he sang the old favorite—half for his audience, but mostly for Susannah. The lyrics were poignant, but Joe's voice made them even harder on the heartstrings. He soon had the whole room enraptured, and Susannah felt as if her head were already swimming from the champagne. There was nothing more romantic, she decided, than a handsome man pouring out his soul in a song.

He must have seen how deeply she was affected by the tune, because he held her hand tightly. For the final verse, he pulled off his beard and smiled into Susannah's eyes so winningly that surely no one in the room could doubt his feelings for her.

When the applause began, Susannah said, “That was wonderful.”

He leaned close and kissed her cheek. “You're wonderful.”

The audience aahed, and Susannah blushed, touching Joe's cheek with her fingertips and wishing they were alone.

The applause died away and the patrons of the restaurant
went back to their meals, leaving Joe and Susannah to look longingly into each other's eyes.

Then Roger harrumphed nearby and Susannah shook herself as if coming out of a magic spell. “Oh, Roger...”

“Never mind, Susannah,” he said. “I can see your mind isn't on business tonight.”

She got hastily to her feet. “I'm sorry, Roger.”

“No, you're not.” He allowed an unhappy smile. “But that's okay. I understand. We'll talk another time.”

“But our dinner?”

He patted Joe on the shoulder. “I think you've found a more entertaining dinner companion. I'll go back and see your grandmother. Good night, Santori. I enjoyed the song. You've got quite a gift.”

“Thanks,” said Joe, faintly surprised. When Roger had departed, Joe said, “The guy's got more class than I first thought.”

“I think he's come to the same conclusion about you.” Joe grinned. “Have you?”

“You're a classy guy, Joe Santori.” Susannah smiled. “And you've got courage, I must say. Waltzing in here in that getup...”

He pretended to look wounded. “You don't like my suit?”

“It's perfect for sliding down chimneys, but for dinner...”

“Nobody's going to mind,” he declared, and climbed to his feet. He pulled Susannah off the red cushions and drew her to the table Roger had just vacated. He handed Susannah into her chair once more and quickly slid into the seat next to hers so he could be close. He said, “You look so beautiful tonight, I hated to see it wasted on Roger Selby.”

“Roger's not as bad as you think.”

“Maybe not. But I was damned jealous.”

Joe wanted to do nothing but sit in his chair and admire Susannah's beauty. She looked wonderful, her simple wool dress set off by a long pendant that drew his attention to her breasts. She was easily the prettiest woman he had ever
known. With his voice turning husky, he said, “I wanted to be with you tonight, Susannah. Did Gina tell you the truth?”

“About Angelica?” Susannah's face began to shine and she leaned toward him. “Yes. I had my suspicions, especially after you mentioned you'd been having trouble getting the truth from her. But...oh, Joe, I was so worried you were already committed to somebody else.”

“I'm only committed to my daughter,” he said, adding cheerfully, “the lying little pest.”

Susannah reached out and touched his cheek. “Don't be hard on her, please. She did it for love, you know. I think she's afraid of losing you.”

“I'm beginning to see that,” Joe admitted, covering Susannah's gentle fingers with his own hand. “I'm beginning to see a lot of things more clearly now, in fact. Susannah, I've fallen hard for you.”

She smiled. “Is that what you call it?”

“This isn't the time or place to say more,” he replied, and was unable to stop himself from adding, “I want to be alone with you, Miss Suzie.”

“We are alone.”

“I mean
alone,
not in a room with a hundred people. I want to take you home to my bed, Miss Suzie,” he clarified, his quiet voice laced with desire, “and make you mine.”

Damning their audience, Joe leaned closer yet and pressed his lips against hers, searing Susannah with a kiss meant to tide her over until he could do the job properly. Susannah's mouth tasted warm and sweetly of champagne, and her hands tightened almost imperceptibly on his shirt as he deepened the kiss and teased her delicate tongue.
I want to be alone with you now,
he thought, and she gave a small affirmative moan as if in answer.

Joe released her gently and enjoyed her slow blink of languorous pleasure.

Susannah felt like a woman in a dream—a wonderfully perfect dream.

I'm in love with him,
she thought.
This is what love feels
like. I can't think straight. I can't possibly make polite dinner conversation—not tonight.

“Suzie,” Joe murmured as if reading her thoughts, “let's get out of here.”

“And go where? Roger will be at Granny Rose's house.”

Joe took her hand and said very seriously, “Come to my house, Suzie. Come home with me tonight.”

“Gina?”

“She's at the dance. And Lars is taking her to a friend's house to spend the night afterward. We'd be alone, Susannah. All night.”

J
OE'S HOUSE WAS QUIET
, with only one lamp burning in the hallway. By that light, Joe helped Susannah off with her coat. He hung it in the closet and led her by the hand through the kitchen, where he stopped long enough to pull a bottle of chilled wine from the refrigerator. Carrying two long-stemmed glasses upended through his fingers and the bottle in the crook of his arm, he guided Susannah directly upstairs.

“You're not giving me any time to get nervous, are you?” she asked, hesitating on the threshold of his dark bedroom.

“You're having second thoughts?”

“No.” But Susannah stopped in the doorway and watched as Joe put the wine on the nightstand and proceeded to the small Victorian fireplace where a log had already been laid. He opened the flue, lit a match from a tin box on the mantel and set the tinder on fire. A moment later, a small flame sprang up, warming the room with a soft glow. Joe used the same match to light a single candle on the mantel—an act that was surprisingly sexy in a man his size.

He blew out the match and tossed it into the grate. Turning to Susannah, he put his hands into his trouser pockets and smiled. “You
look
like a woman with second thoughts.”

“This is the first time I've done this in...well, a long time.”

“In this day and age, I guess that's a good thing. Abstinence has been the best way to stay healthy. I had my annual physical checkup a few weeks ago, and I'm clean, too.”

“Heavens, I wasn't asking—”

He laughed. “I know. Don't look so mortified.”

“I suppose even people our age should be careful.”

Joe crossed the carpet to her and took Susannah's hands in his own. “Don't start on the ‘people our age' thing, all right? You'll get me worrying about my performance before we get our clothes off.”

She mustered a smile. “I can't imagine you worrying about anything.”

He drew a circle on her cheek with one finger. “I worry about a lot of things, Susannah. One of them is making you happy.”

“I'm happy when I'm with you,” she whispered, hardly trusting her voice to speak any louder. Suddenly she was very nervous indeed. Alone with Joe in a restaurant or a snowy sleigh or even his truck late at night was one thing. But alone in his bedroom, his easy chair piled with magazines, a dirty shirt and a paper bag from the pharmacy, was quite another. His bed was a huge four-poster with a bright quilt on top—a product of the Quilting Circle, if Susannah was any judge of quilts. He kept four pillows on the bed, all trimmed with white lace. He had left a set of headphones on the bed, too, and the cord stretched to a CD player on the dresser. Joe liked to listen to his music at all hours, it seemed.

The intimacy of the place was overwhelming for Susannah. Glancing around the room where Joe must have lain dreaming about his wife, Susannah felt like an intruder.

Voice subdued, Joe said, “I won't push you tonight if you'd rather not go through with this, Susannah.”

With a rush of gratefulness, she said, “I—I guess I'm a little uncertain, that's all. We've talked about your wife, but—”