Pretend Mom (17 page)

"Stop calling me that."

"What? Sweetheart?" He pulled away far
enough to look down into her flushed face. Tilting her chin, he
stared at her, seriously.

She bit her lower lip, and then chanced
a quick glimpse at him. Big mistake. She quickly found herself
drowning in those warm, inviting eyes of his. "It's an endearment,
meant for . . ." She couldn't finish.

"Lovers?" he whispered. He gently
stroked her arm. "I wish we were," he admitted freely, his voice
husky, his gaze burning into her soul. Seeing her stunned
expression, he went on, "I wish we had been for three years, and
maybe I wouldn't lose you to everything and everybody."

Her heart beating a rapid tune, Dixie
trembled, from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. Closing
her eyes, she tried to blot him from her senses, but he wasn't
going anywhere. "Lose me?" she barely whispered.

"Mmm," he sighed heavily as one hand
trailed to the roundness of her breast, circling it with his
fingertips. As one thumb caressed the tip slowly, she
gasped.

"I—" she murmured, forgetting what she
was going to say. She was lost in his gaze, feeling her knees
buckle. His touch was light, causing her body to respond
immediately.

His lips grazed her cheek lightly and
she moaned softly, turning her head the other way, only to be
caressed on that cheek as well.

She gazed at him in a lazy stupor.
"We're worlds apart, Mike."

"Are we?" he questioned, his lips
burning a little trail over the dainty bridge of her nose, hovering
over her lips, as his hand still eased the ache within
her.

"I'm leaving right after Mom's wedding,
Mike!" she cried helplessly.

"Are you, sweetheart?" he cajoled, his
voice a caress.

"Yes," she barely managed.

"Then you better take this with you,"
he rasped, drawing her firmly against him, and kissing her with an
unspent passion.

This kiss took possession of her mind
and heart. She made a small whimper in her throat, as his lips
supped the sweetness from her. Like a cat lapping its milk, slowly,
thoroughly, able to enjoy every minute particle. It was a slow,
sensuous kiss, building passion between them that went beyond
anything physical, as though two souls, floating aimlessly in space
had finally found one another, and were intent on
discovery.

Her hands slipped around him, between
his shirt and against his bare waist, where they dug into him. Her
fingers tightened into the back of his waist as his lips explored
her face and neck.

"Oh, Mike …" she sighed in wonder. Her
brain intruded as Dixie thought, he shouldn't be touching me this
way, kissing me … But her head fell back against the wall and her
passion-filled eyes opened as his other hand slid downward, against
her flat belly. The fabric of her dress seemed unimportant, as
though it was no longer there.

He looked from her swollen lips to her
sparkling eyes, and the raw desire she saw there made her want so
much more.

"A little self-denial is a good thing
for the soul," he whispered, "but a man can only stand so much. I'm
a man of the earth, Dixie, and my needs are as strong as any other
man's. But I want more than just a few aimless kisses, and stolen
moments."

She moaned with pleasure. As his hands
touched, not flesh, but fabric, his words spoke straight to her
heart.

"God knows I want you, Dixie, here and
now. But I don't want just your body. When we come together, it
should be as one."

Lord, he had all the right words. She
was on fire for this man, who spoke poetry to her soul. She needed
the taste and sweet smell of him. Her tongue sought the lobe of his
ear. As her teeth sank into him, nibbling, he shuddered violently
and pushed her away, as a man would push away his favorite meal in
denial. He devoured her only with his eyes. Tears welled in her
eyes as she stared at him.

"Better get out of there, sis. Aunt
Lucy's on her way up," Will called through the closed
door.

"Thanks, Will," Mike answered as he
slowly pulled her back into the circle of his arms, crushing her to
him, moaning a low, mournful sound in his throat. "I'm getting
mighty tired of letting you go, sweetheart." He half smiled, half
frowned. "Would you tell Aunt Lucy I'll be just another
minute?"

"Okay, but hurry."

Mike was pushing her away, out the
door, and yet she suddenly understood why. She closed her eyes and
leaned against the outside of the bathroom door. Composure—where
was her composure? Floating down the stairs, Dixie paused when she
heard her uncle and Emily in a heated debate.

"She's not going to sell this house to
an outsider. I won't permit it," he was yelling.

"It's not your decision, Paul. This
house is hers, and if she wants to sell, then there is nothing you
can do to change that," Emily was saying defensively.

"There damn well might be. I'll drag my
father's Will up if I have to," he retorted hotly.

Lucy had come back down the stairs, and
grimaced, her composure slackened. "Paul, must we?"

"Lucy, you stay out of this. And, as
far as I'm concerned, you should stay out of it too, Emily. This is
strictly Johnson business. Not yours!"

Still indulging in the memory of what
had just transpired between her and Mike, Dixie tried to turn her
attention to her Uncle and the storm quickly brewing. She bounced
into the room, full of life and fire. "Dinner ready yet,
Mom?"

"Yes, dear, we were just about to sit
down. Is Mike coming?" Emily glanced over her shoulder, and then
smiled as though she'd purposely sent Dixie up those
stairs.

Lucy's brow shot upward. "He's
certainly hogging the bathroom. And why on earth did you invite
him?"

Will's mouth shot open to admit his
mistake but Dixie explained instead. "Well of course we did, he's
like part of the family, Aunt Lucy. And Bernie is sitting there by
Mom, Uncle Paul." Dixie stopped her uncle from seating himself at
the head of the table.

"Bernie?" Paul glanced from one to the
other. "And that brings another subject up. You are actually going
to marry...Bernie?"

"Yes Paul, I've asked Emily to marry
me. And she's accepted." Bernie stood his ground, a determined
frown lining his face as he spoke.

"Fantastic, isn't it?" Mike drawled
from the doorway, as if he quickly sized the situation up. He drew
Dixie and Mandy to his side.

"Doesn't Mandy look adorable in the
dress, Mom?" Dixie asked as she seated Mandy next to her and fixed
her napkin to help protect the dress from spills.

"She looks like a little
doll."

Will and Tom came through the back door
and headed for the sink to wash up. "Oh, no! Did you know she was a
girl?" Tom asked Will with exaggerated seriousness.

"I'd have never guessed it," Will
teased in return, taking his regular place at the table.

They sat in the huge kitchen, at a
table that could easily seat eight or more. The meal went on,
despite the undercurrents of fire passing between family members.
Mike and Mandy seemed to be the level.

Before Dixie could escape the scene,
Paul asked, point blank, "So, what are your intentions? Are you
selling the place or not?"

"I haven't decided yet," she answered
honestly. "Would you be interested in buying it?"

"Buying it?" His expression twisted
like a pretzel. "Why, I was born here!"

"So was I," Dixie retorted with a
smile.

When all eyes flew to Uncle Paul, he
huffed for a moment, then said in a low voice, "I'll take it into
consideration."

"Great." Dixie smiled again. "Mike,
would you offer grace?"

"Be glad to." Mike beamed at
her.

***

Sunday morning everyone rushed around
getting ready for church. Emily's thoughts were obviously so
scattered from talking with Paul and announcing her engagement,
that she forgot about Dixie singing a solo in church. Upon Will's
helpful reminder, she flew into Dixie's room, her face
flushed.

"Have you decided what you want to
sing, dear?"

"You're fond of Amazing Grace, aren't
you, Mom?" Dixie asked with a contented smile.

Emily burst into a broad smile and
hugged Dixie. "Oh, you know it's my very favorite hymn. But Dixie,
are you sure you can handle this dear? I mean, I know you've been
having a little trouble with your voice lately. Should
you?"

"Of course I should, Mom. I'm fine,
really. Now stop worrying about me so much. I'm actually looking
forward to this. I haven't sang in church in a long time." Dixie
dabbed a pale pink lipstick to her lips.

Emily shook her head. "I don't think
I've told you just how proud I am of you. I mean last night you
were so calm and collected. You handled your uncle with just the
right mixture of sass and respect. And I think deep down, he was
actually kind of glad you were offering him the house."

"He did take it well, didn't
he?"

"Remarkably."

"I wish everyone would take the news
about me and Bernie positively, as well," Emily fussed.

"Oh, Mom, don't fret about Mrs. Butie.
No one listens to her, anymore. Love doesn't go by age. And it
would be downright sinful not to marry Bernie, as much as you love
him."

"You don't think we're too old for this
sort of thing?"

"You're never too old for love." After
considering it, Dixie smiled sadly. "Actually, I feel just a tad
bit sorry for Mrs. Butie, Mom. I think what prompted her to say you
were too old, was jealousy. Her husband is dead, and she's done
nothing to find someone. So, she's alone, except for her sister and
Janet."

"You may be right. At our age you don't
go shopping for a man. And you consider yourself mighty lucky if
one comes along."

"I'm glad you didn't listen to Mrs.
Butie, because Bernie was just a little afraid you
might."

Emily fumbled with her hands, a habit
she had when she wanted to say something and couldn't quite get it
out. "I did listen to her, Dixie, at first. But then I got to
thinking. Your father wouldn't have wanted me to be alone in my
later years. And he liked Bernie."

"Yes, he did. I remember he used to
come home from the barbershop whistling a new song almost every
time. He and Bernie used to sit there early in the morning on
Saturdays playing the guitar and making up new songs to
sing."

"I'm surprised you remember that."
Emily smiled and sighed at the memory.

"Me, too."

Emily wiped her eyes with a Kleenex
from her dress pocket, and then glanced at the suit on the bed.
"Are you wearing this?"

Dixie nodded as she combed her hair. "I
thought I would. What do you think?"

"I love the color on you. It's perfect,
dear. You're sure your voice it up to all this, though?"

"I'm sure. Stop worrying."

"Okay. I've got to rush the boys along
or we'll be late."

An hour or so later Dixie and her
family stood in front of the old church. The tall steeple still
held the clear tones of the large, brass bell that Kevin and Mike
had installed for the new preacher nearly ten years ago. Somehow,
the church looked smaller, like a scene out of a familiar painting.
It was home to Dixie and she sighed with mixed emotions.

As they entered, she sniffed the
familiar odor of polished wood and old, paper music books.
Old-fashioned stained glass windows proudly adorned the entire
chapel. Dixie remembered how neighboring townspeople drove in to
see those windows being installed.

What she hadn't expected to see was
Kevin standing at the front door by the preacher, greeting
everyone, with his wife by his side. When she walked up to him, he
took her hand and met her glance with an infectious
smile.

"We're honored to have you here, Dixie,
and to have you sing for us."

"Thank you," she stammered.

The moment their eyes met, Dixie knew.
The crush she had on Kevin years ago no longer existed. This man
was complete without her, and she without him. No question about
it—she wasn't in love with Kevin Dalton.

After the choir sang and all were
seated, the preacher gave a short sermon.

Mike and Amanda were sitting beside
Kevin and his wife. As Mike gazed at Dixie, his smiling eyes were
warm and she detected no censure or distress concerning her meeting
with Kevin.

Dixie's gaze traveled over June,
Kevin's wife, swiftly, wondering if a stab of jealousy might hit
her. It didn't—not in the least. Instead, she realized why Kevin
was so happy. June's face was one of complete
contentment.

Midway through the service, the
reverend introduced Dixie to the congregation.

"I know most of you remember Dixie Rose
Kincaid. She's a local hometown girl who made good in the big city
of New York. A devout Christian, Dixie has graciously consented to
sing a solo for us."