Return of the Runaway Bride (21 page)

The car's engine went silent, and then Daniel opened the driver's side door and got out. He paused a moment before heading toward her.

When he was close enough, she softly asked, "Are you okay? It's got to be after midnight."

He tilted his head a fraction and placed his hand on the post at the base of the porch stairs. "I'm here to pick up my jacket."

A quiet chuckle bubbled from her. "That sounds more like a question than an answer."

She realized he was staring at her bare feet, and she instinctively crossed one over the other.

"You should be wearing slippers," he told her.
"Or socks.
Or something."

Savanna smiled. "What? You don't like the color of my polish?"

He returned her grin. "You could get a splinter from those floor boards."

They both spoke in hushed tones. There was something almost reverent about the still, hot silence of the night.

"I'll be okay." She leaned her shoulder against the column. "But I'm not at all sure about you. What brings you out so late?"

Daniel lifted one shoulder. "I wanted to see you. Talk to you. I didn't want to call and risk waking you, and I wasn't going to ring the bell if I didn't see any lights on."

When he didn't elaborate further, she pushed. "But… are you all right?"

"Yes," he said. "I'm better than all right, actually."

But, again, he fell silent rather than expand on his thoughts, and his expression remained stoic. He slid his hands into the pockets of his dress trousers and lightly jangled his car keys.

Savanna lifted her wine glass. "Would you like something to drink? I've got merlot. And I think Dad left some scotch in his study."

A small smile played at the corners of his mouth. "A scotch would be great, thanks."

She turned and went inside, and he came up the step, following her through the front door, the open foyer and into the study. Savanna flipped on a small lamp and went to the liquor cabinet. She inspected the highball glass before up-righting it onto the cabinet top, and then she pulled out a decanter of scotch.

"Ice?" she asked, realizing that would necessitate a trip to the kitchen.

He shook his head. "Neat is fine."

She poured a jigger of the amber liquid, capped the crystal decanter and handed the glass to Daniel.

"Thanks." He looked down into the glass, but didn't take a drink. "I have to tell you, this feels weird."

As he spoke, she'd taken a sip of wine. Once she swallowed, she asked, "Weird?"

"Yes. You know." He lifted the scotch.
"Drinking in your father's house."

She laughed. "We're all grown up now, Daniel. I promise you, Dad would not disapprove of my offering you a cocktail."

He sighed and arched his brows.
"If you say so.
But I don't mind telling you, being in this house makes me feel…" he paused a moment, "…like a randy teenager again." He took a gulp of the scotch.

"Believe me," she told him, "I know exactly what you mean."

What she'd meant to convey was that being in her childhood home often made her feel more the adolescent than the adult, but when her gaze clashed with Daniel's she realized that he'd completely misconstrued what she'd said.

Suddenly, she felt as though someone has sucked all the air out of the room, and she felt the need to drag a lungful of oxygen into her body. His dark eyes focused directly onto hers and the quiet clanged as jarring as cymbals.

Say something,
dammit
.
 
The voice in her head screamed at her, but she was caught fast in this startling and silken trap that had seemingly struck her dumb.

"Can we sit?" he asked.

"Of course."
She moved to the sofa.

The aged leather was worn and felt supple against her bare calves when she sat and tucked her feet up on the cushion beneath her. Daniel eased himself down much closer than she expected. She could feel the warmth of him, the solid mass of him.

Savanna sensed he wanted to talk, but as the seconds ticked by, she became a little nervous. Tension continued to build until she could no longer stand it.

She blurted, "Remember when we snuck into the liquor cabinet?"

The memory made him shake his head. "Don't remind me."

Laughter rumbled from deep in her chest. She pressed her fingers to her lips in an attempt to stifle it, but it slipped out nonetheless. "I'm sorry. That was
all my
fault. I never should have suggested it."

He shrugged. "I deserved the stern talking to your dad gave me. I was older. I should have known better."

"Mom must have marked the bottle. It was only wine, for gosh sakes." Her shoulders shook with mirth. "And we only had a little. The way they acted, you'd think we were falling down drunk."

She watched him take another sip from his glass as she said, "I got you into all sorts of trouble, didn't I?"

His chuckle was low, and he shifted on the couch, resting his arm along the back. His fingertips were a breath away from her shoulder.

"It's okay," he told her. "I didn't mind. I actually enjoyed myself.
Most of the time."

A strand of her hair had fallen across her chest and she reached up and absently smoothed the lock between her index finger and thumb. "Still, I'm sorry I got you into so much hot water back then." Then her grin widened. "But I have to say, it sure was easy to talk you into my schemes."

He paused long enough to take a deep breath. "Savanna," he said softly, "you had a way of looking at me that made me feel…" he searched for the right word "…invincible. When I was with you, I became the 'go to' guy. The person who could make things
happen
. You made me feel smarter than everyone else, more capable. You made me feel proud of myself." His tone grew more serious as he continued, "With you, I felt stronger… faster… more…" He seemed at a loss.

"Better?" she offered teasingly.

He laughed suddenly. "That's it. More better.
More better
than everyone else."

She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth. Oh, if he only knew how she'd felt about him then. In her opinion, he
had
been the most intelligent man she'd ever known, and the most capable, the strongest, the very best in every way, not to mention the absolute sexiest. He had been everything she'd ever wanted. Everything she'd ever needed. But making that admission, admitting just how crazy in love with him she had been, would make her too vulnerable for comfort. So instead, she whispered, "That's exactly what you were, Daniel." Her throat constricted and her next two words came out sounding strained. "More better."

Tears threatened to well up in her eyes, and Savanna lifted her wine glass to her lips to give her a few seconds to get herself together.

"Remember when we went to that
slasher
movie?"

Daniel's question opened the floodgates of her memories and she grinned. "Mom
forbid
me to see that film!"

"Which you failed to tell me until
after
I'd bought the tickets."

"I know." Savanna wrinkled her nose. "I was bad. But all my friends were talking about that movie. They'd all seen it. I felt so left out."

"We might have gotten away with it had you not left the ticket stub in your jacket pocket."

"I know." She performed another nose crinkle. "But that was your fault. Love short-circuited my brain."

The 'L word' had slipped off her tongue before she'd had time to stop it, but he continued as if he hadn't even heard it.

"Your mother was furious with me.
With both of us."
Then he chuckled as he added, "Do you know how hard it was for me not to tell her that neither one of us saw much of the movie?"

The question caused a languorous smile to spread across her mouth, then their eyes met and held, both of them remembering the smoldering kisses they'd shared in the shadows, tucked away in the very back row. It all seemed so excruciatingly innocent now; he, just starting college, she still in high school, dealing with curfews and restrictions, stealing passionate kisses in the dark confines of a movie theater.
 

Savanna had always been aware of how lucky she'd been that he'd been attracted to her. He could have dated girls his own age; girls who, being more mature, would have been freer to go and see and do more of the things that interested a young man. But Daniel had seemed content, happy even, to spend his time with her. And they'd spent every available moment together.

"If your parents knew about even half the stuff we did, they'd have locked you in your room until after you'd graduated high school." He shook his head.

Their antics had been harmless, of course. But some of the day trips they'd gone on stood out in her memory. He'd taken her to the botanical gardens in Richmond. Daniel had brought along his camera, and he'd made her feel beautiful the way he'd continued snapping photos of her among the flowers. He'd taken her shopping in Roanoke; the little hole-in-the-wall restaurant where they'd lunched had served surprisingly good food along with an incomparable romantic ambiance. And some of her fondest memories had been when they'd slipped away to Virginia Beach. Golden sunshine, warm sand, gentle surf, and the feel of his hands on her body as he'd applied sunscreen lotion to her skin. If she closed her eyes, she could easily imagine gliding her fingers over the hard hills and valleys of his muscles as she'd smoothed warm lotion on his back and shoulders.

"Why is everything more fun when it's off-limits?"

Her eyelids fluttered open at the sound of his voice. She hadn't realized how lost she'd become in the past. Looking into his handsome face now, she realized just how much fun they'd had, how many places they had experienced together. All that time spent laughing, all those endless hours of talking and planning and dreaming had allowed them to come to know each other so well.

Too well.

That low, throaty tone, the intensity in those luscious eyes, the way the muscles on either side of his mouth tensed just the slightest bit. Seduction laced that question like a fancy French garter.

His gaze broke from hers, roving over her face and then traveling down her torso like a physical touch.

"Why
is
that?" he murmured. "What makes forbidden fruit taste so sweet?" He traced the curve of her bare shoulder with the pad of his thumb. Then his breath left him in a ragged exhalation. "You're beautiful, Savanna."

She reached up and slid her fingers over the facings of her delicate robe. "Well," she croaked, "I wore such hideous
pj's
as a kid…stiff cotton…flannel…" she chuckled nervously "…I splurge these days."

Without taking his eyes off her body, he leaned forward long enough to set the highball glass on the coffee table. "I'm not talking about what you're wearing."

Something in her brain blocked out the compliment and she rambled on, "I love the feel of silk and satin.
Makes me feel… pretty."

The small, lazy circles he drew on her shoulder felt delicious and sent heat coursing through her.

"But you looked pretty in flannel."

As he uttered that final word, a spark lit his gaze and his mouth contracted into half-smile. All Savanna wanted to do was reach out and glide her fingertips over his jaw, over those luscious lips. But then she blinked.

You looked pretty in flannel
.