Return of the Runaway Bride (23 page)

From the thunderstruck look on her face, Sheila could have been knocked over by a single light touch to the forehead.

"It didn't
mean
anything," Savanna stressed, unable to look into Sheila's eyes any longer as she repeated, "Of course, it didn't mean anything. It was just a lovely romp, is all.
Consensual sex between two adults who…" she scrambled for words "…have a history together.
It meant nothing."

She took a deep breath and gazed out into the yard. "But I can't stop thinking about it. I can't stop thinking about
him
. I mean… the way he looked at me.
The way he kissed me.
Touched me."
She swallowed. "And the way he smiled afterward. I want to see that again. I want to feel that… again. I just… I want… more.
Of
that
.
Of him.
Of… something."

Suddenly filled with frustration, Savanna threw the green bean into the bowl. "See there? I'm babbling like a fool."

"You're talking like you're in love." Sheila's comment was barely above a whisper.

Savanna cast
her a
sidelong glance. "You've got to be kidding. There's no way I'm in love with Daniel. I didn't come back to Fulton for that."

"Maybe you didn't," Sheila said, "but let's
look
at this logically. Daniel makes you happy. He makes you giddy. He makes you worry. He makes you afraid. He makes you edgy—in a good way, of course," she teased, counting off on her fingers. "And when he kisses you…"

"It's wonderful," Savanna finished the sentence, closing her eyes and drawing it out to a lazy and languorous end.

"Not to mention," Sheila said, enunciating as if she were speaking to a dimwit, "you slept together."

"Now, wait," she protested. "I told you. That…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah.
It meant nothing." Sheila snatched up the bowl and began snapping beans again. "But you want more.
More of
that
.
More of Daniel."
She paused, her brows arching high. "Okay, so what's with the stink eye? Don't be mad at me. I'm just repeating your words." Then she shook her head. "Girl, you not only got it, you got it bad."

Savanna's shoulders drooped, and then she opened her mouth to speak but closed it, and then repeated the action in a perfect imitation of a fish out of water. Finally, her gaze connected with Sheila's as she realized aloud, "I'm in love with Daniel. How on earth did
that
happen?"

"Maybe," her friend murmured, "you never stopped.

~
 
~
 
~

The fund-raiser meeting seemed interminable. The board members were taking turns going over various details of the dinner. Their proclivity of looking at things up-ways, down-ways and inside-out would help to assure success in the end; however, this kind of micro-managing took
hours
.

She found herself stealing a glance across the conference table at Daniel. He'd barely greeted her when he'd arrived. Granted, he'd come into the room just as the meeting was starting, but would it hurt him to smile at her?

Savanna had never in her wildest imaginings thought she'd fall in love with the very man she'd run away from six years earlier. Questions rolled through her head like a fast-moving silent film.

What should she do now? Profess her feelings? Or wait for some sign from him? Savanna leaned against the chair back, darting a quick look at him. His mouth was pulled into a surly line. Oh, gosh, was he regretting having come to her house? Was he sorry they'd made love? He had expressed doubt that night. Hell, she silently lamented, why hadn't she listened to him?

"On the other hand, he certainly hadn't put up much of a fight. If he hadn't wanted-"

"Savanna?"

Jim Thompson's voice snapped her to attention.
She blinked. "Yes? Sorry.
Must have checked out there for a moment."

"I asked how many tickets have been sold.
For the dinner."

"Eighty-five percent," she stated, thankful at her quick recovery. "And there's still two weeks to go. I'm sure we'll sell them all."

Savanna hesitated a moment until the murmurs of excitement subsided.

"I sold four tickets to the mayor."
Miz
Ida's shoulders squared proudly. "Will we have any other distinguished guests?"

"We have quite a few mayors from the surrounding towns," Savanna told her, "and at least one senator.
One former governor.
Several of Virginia's most prominent authors will be there. I've got a model, two actors, a former Miss America, and a NASCAR driver. I'm working on a second. All of these people were born and raised in Virginia." She started naming names and heard happy murmurings around the table. "Oh, and I don't think I mentioned it before," she continued, "but I was contacted by two musical groups, offering to entertain for free. I accepted both offers."

"How is that going to work?" Daniel's curt question cut her off.

She glanced over at him, startled by the harshness of his tone. "Well…"

"What died and crawled up your butt, Daniel?"
Miz
Ida asked none too gently.

Savanna appreciated the support.

Then Jim said, "Ida, I think it's a legitimate question."

She cleared her throat. "As I was saying, I accepted both. The Bradley Brothers play jazz and will entertain as dinner is served, and the set will last through the dessert course. Then after a slight intermission, about nine, Times Gone By will take over. I don't know if any of you have heard of them, but they specialize in the big-band sound. They've put out several CDs. They've agreed to play until midnight."

"Oh," one woman piped up, "they are
fabulous
." She was sitting right beside Daniel and she addressed him as she added, "They played at my sister's wedding. Abigail was getting married for the fourth time, you know, and that band was just
fabulous
." Each time she stressed the word "fabulous," she tapped Daniel on the forearm. "I danced till dawn." The woman's eyes glittered. "It was just
fabulous
." Again she tapped.

Savanna pressed her lips together, reining in an unexpected grin, as she watched Daniel grit his teeth.

He turned toward her with a gaze so sharp she expected to be cut in half.

"Did you clear this with the manager of the country club?"

The urge to smile disappeared completely. "Of course I did," she snapped.

"Of course she did,"
Miz
Ida parroted.

But Daniel continued to press. "Do you have a contract with these bands?"

"Well, no," she admitted. "They're playing for free."

He frowned. "What if they decide not to show up?"

The question felt like a personal attack. "Why would they do that?"

"Oh, I don't know," he said breezily. "They're offered a paying gig at the last minute?"

"But both bands know how important this is," she said. "They called me. They offered to play to help the hospital."

"If they don't show up,"
Miz
Ida proclaimed boldly, "then we have the dinner with no music. Doesn't seem like the end of the world to me."

The woman sitting beside Daniel screeched, "What kind of party would that be?"

Savanna focused on her notes and thought it best to change the subject entirely. "Oh, yes," she said. "Charlie Hickman of Hickman Travel Agency here in Fulton called me. He's donating a trip for two to the Bahamas."

"My word!"
Ida said. "I can't believe it. Charlie Hickman is so tight his shoes squeak when he walks. He donated a trip?"

"Yes," Savanna happily confirmed. "The package includes airfare and five nights' accommodation in a four-star hotel right on the beach."

"That's just
fabulous
," the woman next to Daniel said, tapping him on the arm.

"And just what," Daniel intoned flatly, "are you going to do with a trip for two to the Bahamas?"

It wasn't the question that sparked a fiery anger in Savanna. The inquiry was perfectly reasonable. What infuriated her beyond words was the tone in which the question had been asked.

Granted, he doubted her ability to successfully pull off these events. At each and every meeting he had probed and questioned, forcing her to prove that she was dotting
every
i
and crossing every t. But tonight's verbal assault was especially critical.

She pressed her lips firmly together and inhaled deeply. This didn't have anything to do with bands or contracts or trips. This had to do with one
thing,
and one thing only.
Sex.
Daniel regretted having slept with her. And he was expressing that by attacking her.

Savanna felt her back teeth clench. Maybe she'd been a bit pushy that night. But she refused to accept all the blame. He was a big boy. He could have stopped everything with a simple no.

Time and again she'd made allowances for him at these meetings
because she knew he distrusted her, she knew he expected her to run off and leave Fulton before the fund-raising dinner plans were complete. She'd even sympathized with him, knowing what she'd done to him six years ago. She'd hoped to make him realize, by her hard work and dedication, that she could be trusted. But it was so obvious to her that he would never learn to trust her. No matter how much time and effort, planning and devotion she gave to the people of Fulton, Daniel would never see she was worthy of his confidence. The realization knifed through her, slashing to the very depth of her soul. Hurting her as much, if not more, than knowing he regretted having sex with her.

She sat in that room filled with people she'd worked with, people she'd come to know again, people she'd come to love, and she clearly understood she had two choices. She could give in to the pain she felt, give in to the tears of frustration and insult that threatened to spill. Or she could stoke up a blazing ire and send it coursing through every muscle in her body.

It took a nanosecond for anger to win.

Swallowing the lump that had risen in her throat, she fixed Daniel with a burning glare.
"Well, Mr. Walsh," she addressed him, her voice ominously low. "To tell you the truth, I haven't decided what I'm going to do with the trip yet. I may use it as a door prize, or I may auction off this amazing tropical excursion to the highest bidder. Let's not forget that making money for the hospital is our goal here.
Right?"

She stood, the chair tottering on its two back legs for a split second before coming to rest on all fours again. Resentment burned in her like a white-hot incandescent flame.

"Everyone in this room knows how you detested the idea of my helping out in these fund-raising proj
ects," she said. "Everyone has heard you question me at every turn. Everyone knows you expect me to
run away
." She put ugly emphasis on the two words "Everyone knows exactly what you think of me."

Her jaw tightened as fury blazed through every pore of her body, singed every cell. Planting her splayed hands on the table, she leaned her weight on them and hurled her hostility at the man who denied her the one simple thing that had come to mean nearly everything to her.
His trust.

"I don't know why you're so concerned, anyway," she replied in a shaky, barely controlled voice. "What with that prestigious partnership offer you're considering with that mega-money law firm in Richmond, why, you're the one who won't be here for the dinner. Not me. You're the one who's running out on everyone. Not me!"