The Lancaster Men (6 page)

Turning away, she picked up the bottom sheet and
shook it out to fall across the mattress. Whit moved out of her way while she tucked the sides under. She could feel his eyes watching her as she made the bed. By the time she was through except for the pillows, Shari began having second thoughts about Whit sleeping on the lumpy bed.

As she tucked the pillow under her chin to slip it into its case, she suggested a trade of sleeping quarters. “You don’t have to stay here, Whit. You can sleep in my bed.”

“With you?” His tone was lightly suggestive.

She stopped shaking the pillow into its case and turned to face him. First, there had been the comment that she disturbed him—now he was deliberately insinuating that her offer had been that they should sleep together.

Had he always said things like that? Or had she just become sensitive to the double meanings in his remarks because of her newfound awareness of him?

Whit studied her faintly openmouthed look and smiled lazily. “No thanks, Shari. 1 remember how loud you snore.”

He was teasing her again she realized and her tension dissipated with the faded concern. “Whit Lancaster, I do not snore! How could you say such a thing!” She hit him with the pillow and laughed.

“You snore louder than a buzz saw,” he accused with a throaty laugh and grabbed at the pillow to wrench it from her grasp. “I’ve heard you.”

“It was probably you snoring!” Shari retorted as they fought over the pillow. “I don’t make a sound when I sleep.”

The years faded away and this became another version of one of their many pillow fights. Laughing, they tussled over the pillow. Shari lost her balance and fell backward onto the bed with a gasping shriek of laughter, pulling Whit onto the mattress with her. She lost her grip on the pillow as they rolled together on the bed, and ceased trying to reclaim it.

“I give up. You win.” She breathlessly declared him the victor and paused to rest from her struggle.

His arm remained under her back as he positioned the pillow so both of them could lay their heads on it. “That’s where it belongs anyway,” he stated.

Lying side by side on their backs, they gazed at the ceiling. Shari hadn’t felt this close to him in a long time. She turned her cheek against the pillow to look at him. His roughly virile features seemed to be chiseled out of sun-warmed teakwood. She wished this moment could last forever but she knew it was impossible.

“I suppose you have to drive home first thing in the morning,” she sighed.

“No.”

Her jade-green eyes widened in faint surprise. “How long are you staying then?”

Whit turned his head on the pillow to face her. “I plan to stay until Rory makes up his mind what he’s going to do—unless he takes too long about it.”

She watched his mouth forming the words and became fascinated by its masculine shape. It was firm, and clearly drawn. There was nothing soft or weak about it. A dark, forbidden longing rose in her to feel his strong lips against her own. Her heart started knocking against her ribs with unusual force,
awakening Shari to the direction her thoughts were taking. Not trusting herself so close to him, she sat up and smoothed the eyelet material of her skirt.

“Beth and the others are waiting for me,” Shari explained away her sudden movement. Her backward glance saw that Whit had raised himself on one elbow, his narrowed look creating a frown. “We’re going to take you up on your offer to use the boat and go for a moonlight sail. I still have to change clothes.” As she stood up on one side of the bed, Whit was straightening to his feet on the other. “I suppose you’ll finish the paper work you brought with you.”

“Yes. That’s unfortunately the only way it will get done.” His smile was pleasant, yet Shari detected an air of reserve about him. “Enjoy yourself.”

“We will.” Quick, gliding strides carried her to the door.

Her smile was artificially bright to hide her inner uncertainty. As she left the study, Rory, Beth and Doré were coming down the stairs, dressed for sailing. She started up the steps, meeting them at a point short of halfway.

“What was going on down here?” Doré demanded, sweeping Shari with an accusing look. “You certainly were making enough noise in there with Whit. We could hear you laughing all the way upstairs.”

While Shari hesitated over an answer, Rory supplied the explanation. “That’s not unusual. Those two have always carried on like that.”

Shari didn’t elaborate on the response. “It shouldn’t take me more than a couple of minutes to
change, then I’ll be right down.” Beth moved to the side so Shari could pass and continue up the stairs to her room.

In all, it took Shari a little less than ten minutes to change out of her dress into a pair of navy blue twill slacks, a pale blue turtleneck and white sneakers. On top of the outfit, she added a dark blue wind-breaker and tied a scarf of blue-green silk around her black hair.

She half-ran down the stairs to join the sailing party waiting for her. It wasn’t until she was nearly to the bottom that Shari noticed they didn’t seem to be in any hurry—at least Doré wasn’t.

Whit was in the living room with them, acting the polite host by keeping them company in her absence. Doré had sidled close to him to subtly and aggressively flirt with him, and Whit didn’t seem to object.

A hot knife of jealousy stabbed Shari. She walked forward, determined to break up the scene. “Why is everybody standing around?” she challenged, deliberately ignoring the fact that they had been waiting for her. “Let’s go.”

Rory and Beth were quite willing to be hurried along but Doré lingered next to Whit. “Change your mind and come with us, Whit,” she coaxed with a sexy smile. “You’ll miss out on a lot of fun.”

The lazily indulgent way he was regarding her blonde sorority sister made Shari feel raw. When he didn’t immediately turn down the invitation, she stepped in to do it for him.

“Whit can’t come. He has work to do,” she stated in a very emphatic voice.

There was a glint of mocking humor in his eyes
when he swung his glance to her, amused that she had found it necessary to remind him of it. She was immediately irritated with herself for speaking out.

Whit turned back to Doré. “I’m afraid Shari is right. I have a lot of paper work I need to finish.”

“Well, if I can’t persuade you—” Doré sighed her disappointment and didn’t bother to finish the sentence, lifting her shoulders in a little shrug to indicate her reluctant acceptance of his decision.

Then Whit was directing his glance at Shari and Rory, once again assuming the role of older brother. “Be careful.”

“We will,” Rory promised and turned to the others. “Shall we go?”

There was a general exodus toward the door.

It was a perfect night for sailing. The moon was fat and full, gilding the waters of Loch Dornie with its silvery light. A stiff breeze filled the canvas to send the sailboat gliding silently through the water while the shadowed darkness of Grandfather Mountain watched over them.

But Shari wasn’t in the mood to enjoy it. There were too many disquieting thoughts going around in her head. They left little room to consider the serenity of the moonlight sail. After an hour’s ride, Rory maneuvered the boat into its slip to tie it up Shari was glad it was over so she no longer had to maintain the pretense that she was having a good time.

On the way back to the condominium, Doré, Beth and Rory talked so much that her silence went
unnoticed. It was much too early to consider sleep, plus the night sail had invigorated all of them, including Shari, although the others were more boisterous.

“Let’s fix some hot toddies,” Doré suggested as they entered the condo.

“Sorry,” Rory tipped his head to the side in a gesture of regret. “Granddad never leaves any liquor here. He brings his private stock with him whenever we come.”

“Hot chocolate is about the best we can do.” Shari backed up his assertion. “I saw some cocoa in the cupboard.”

“Didn’t I see some peppermint canes in a candy jar?” Beth frowned as she tried to recall. “We can use them as swizzle sticks. They add a delicious minty flavor to hot cocoa.”

“It sounds a little more exotic than plain cocoa,” Doré commented and indicated how tame she considered the innocuous drink to be.

“Shall we fix some?” Beth directed her question to Shari.

But it was Doré who responded. “Yes, why don’t you,” she urged the two of them. “And I’ll see if Whit would like a cup.”

Shari was closer to the closed door of the study than Doré. She took advantage of the fact. “I’ll ask him.” She moved quickly toward the study, that possessive streak rearing its head again. “Rory can show you where everything is in the kitchen.”

Unable to reach the door ahead of Shari, Doré was forced to accept the situation or get into a demeaning battle over Whit. It was not her nature to
openly do battle over a man so the disgruntled blonde followed Beth and Rory to the kitchen.

Shari lightly rapped twice on the door but there was no response. She hesitated, then turned the knob, opening the door a crack to peer inside. A lamp burned at the desk where Whit was hunched over some papers. The artificial light caught the sheen of sun-streaks in his dark hair.

Preoccupied with his work, he obviously hadn’t heard her knock. Shari slipped inside the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. The combination of a carpeted floor and the rubber soles of her sneakers negated any sound of her footsteps as she crossed the room to stand behind him.

With the ease of long familiarity, she rested her hands on the corded shoulder muscles at the base of his neck, feeling their knotted tension. Whit stiffened at her initial touch, then it eased away when she began to gently knead the taut muscles. He leaned against the chair back, laying down his pen.

His right hand reached up to cover hers and press it firmly with affection before his fingers glided up to circle her wrist and draw her around to the side of his chair where he could see her. The suggestion of tiredness seemed to leave his features when a small curve lifted the corners of his mouth in a faint smile.

“I see you made it back from your moonlight sail.” The pressure of his grip pulled her down to sit on the wooden armrest of the chair. “Nobody fell overboard? Nobody was hurt?”

Shari smiled at his teasing questions. “We had a marvelous time, completely without mishap,” she assured him.

“That must be a record.” Dryness rustled his voice.

His hand continued to hold her forearm at the wrist. Its light touch was making her pulse act up and Shari wondered if he could feel its erratic beat. She wasn’t comfortable with this new sensual awareness of his male attraction.

“We’re fixing some hot chocolate and wondered if you would like to take a break and have a cup with us,” she explained her reason for coming to see him.

“You’re actually inviting me to join you?” Despite his mocking tone, the slight drawl in his voice was infinitely pleasing to her ear. “Earlier I had the impression you wanted to keep my nose to the grindstone.”

It was a direct reference to her insistence that he couldn’t come sailing with them because he had work to do. Shari was well aware of her reasons for saying that then, but she had no intention of telling him what they were. She changed the subject instead.

“I don’t know how you find time to do all that you do,” she said because she was only beginning to realize the vital role he played in all their lives. “Our family would fall apart if it wasn’t for you. You hold all of us together. Mother would worry herself sick if you weren’t there to reassure her. You keep Granddad pacified. You’re so patient with Rory. And any time I’ve ever needed you, you’ve been there. On top of that, you run the farm and take care of all the business. Why do you do it, Whit?” Shari wouldn’t have blamed him if he had told them all to take a running jump into some lake.

“Because you matter to me,” he answered without hesitation, regarding her steadily. A quiver of disturbance ran through her at his statement. Shari caught the flash of impatience in his gaze before it swung away from her and he let go of her arm. “Family is important, Shari.”

“Yes, of course,” she agreed, but she couldn’t shake the strange feeling that she hadn’t understood what he meant. She slipped off the armrest to stand beside the chair. “Will you have a cup of hot chocolate with us?” Shari repeated her earlier question.

Whit sliced her a look that was hard. “When have I ever told you ‘no’? You’ve always had your own way.” She was puzzled by his attitude and his challenge. In the next second, he made a complete reversal, a smile wiping out the austere lines to charm her. “Let’s go have that hot chocolate.”

As they left the study to join the others in the kitchen, Shari was plagued by a bewildering array of questions. Were his remarks double-edged or was she imagining it? Had he always looked at her like that or was she reading something into his looks that didn’t exist? Had his attitude toward her changed or was she just now noticing it? And was it natural to feel so possessive toward him in the face of Doré’s pursuit?

It was the latter Shari had to struggle to subdue when they entered the kitchen and Doré went to work on him. Whit was friendly and polite to her, neither encouraging nor discouraging her interest. Shari was barely able to taste the peppermint
flavored hot chocolate, too conscious of the way her beautiful sorority sister was monopolizing Whit.

Within minutes after he’d finished his cocoa, Whit made his apologies and returned to the study to finish his paper work. The minute the four of them were alone, Doré turned on her.

“What is the matter with you, Shari?” she demanded.

“With me?” She looked at her friend in surprise. “There’s nothing wrong with me. What makes you think there is?”

“I wish you could see the way you’ve been acting and you wouldn’t ask the question,” Doré retorted in a huff.

“The way
I’ve
been acting?” Shari flared at the implication that her behavior had been questionable. “You’re the one who’s been drooling all over Whit, making an absolute fool of yourself.”

“I didn’t notice that he objected,” she countered with an airy toss of her head.