Wandering Heart (15 page)

She giggled
nervously, the wine going to her head once more.

His big hands
were everywhere, and she blocked every move he made. He was going
too fast. It was obvious he wanted sex, but was love included? How
long had it been since he told her he loved her? And why hadn't
love been mentioned by now? Why did he have to act like it was sex
he wanted, and not a loving woman by his side?

Her mind
flitted back to the day they met. She was at the hardware store
buying some necessary equipment for the farm. He had been talking
to the store manager about putting up signs and noticed her.
Immediately, he struck up a conversation, and before the week was
out he asked her for a date. Since then they had dated for six
months.

That seemed
ages ago.

She had little
time to assimilate the decor. But her eyes popped open and she
couldn't help but notice the mirrored closet. The bed was soft and
silky, and nearly the color of flesh. The lighting seemed dim, like
the last flickers of a sunset. Sunsets? Oh God, Coop. She felt the
soft silk spread move against her as she squirmed in Greg's arms.
If only this were Coop. Dear God, where had that thought come from?
Why had it come now?

She went
instantly rigid.

"Greg," she
said pushing him away gently, "I think I need another drink."

She needed
another drink badly. Her courage was quickly failing her. And why
not? She hadn't been intimate with a man in over ten years. Overdue
yes, but she felt ridiculously clumsy.

As she waited
for another drink, Cooper's face flashed before her. Like some kind
of warning. She tried to ignore it. Tried to force him from her
mind. But he was there to stay.

Are you going
out, or in for the evening, he had asked. Why couldn't she just
relax and enjoy this? A man, a very prominent man, with good looks,
and a big future wanted her. She was going to marry him, for
goodness sake.

But it was the
way Cooper had looked at her this evening that had stayed in her
mind. That, and the warm feeling she had gotten from his look. The
gentle way he had removed her lipstick.

"You know this
isn't a bad idea," Greg was saying as he brought their drinks from
the bar that had been set up for them. "I mean, it's obviously been
a long time since you've been to bed with a man, and I want you to
feel completely comfortable with it. You just relax, darling. I
want you to enjoy every minute of this. We have all night. There's
no rush."

She had to get
Cooper off her mind. This was the man she loved.

Then it hit
her, like a cold breeze splashing her in the face, like a brick
falling on her head, like a storm raging with the truth. The reason
she couldn't get her mind off Cooper was that she was in love with
him. Dear God, when had it happened? How could it happen? There was
no future with Cooper. Was there?

Straightening
her clothes, she stood up and moved toward the balcony. It was the
wine, it had to be. She opened the door and gazed down at the pool.
It was very late, and very quiet.

Any other girl
would be thrilled to be here right now. She couldn't help but
remember those teenagers in the parking lot of the mall, admiring
Greg. How romantic could things get? She had the penthouse suite, a
gorgeous setting, and yet she didn't feel anything except shame.
She let the night air cool her face. Sober her.

Perhaps her
expectations were too high.

Cooper would
make a fine father, a great husband, but what kind of life would
they have? He was a man with no future. Or was their future at the
farm? He certainly knew how to take care of the farm. She hadn't
had any problems since he arrived.

Perhaps she let
that dream take her away.

What did she
want, music? And yet, there was. Greg switched on the soft sounds
of Barry Manilow, muted the lights even more, and held her drink
for her as she sipped.

Poor Greg. For
the first time, he was really trying to show her how much he cared,
and now it was too late.

Their eyes met
as she sipped the drink and felt the warm tingle go all the way
down. But it wasn't Greg making her tingle, it was the drink. That
was the problem.

She giggled
when his hands rested gently on her bare shoulders, his lips
following. He was growing impatient. She could feel the tension in
him. A tension she didn't have.

When he got to
the curve of her neck she shivered. Not because it pleased, but
because it tickled. His lips smiled against the warmth of her skin.
He was pleased with himself.

Wanting to
please him, she turned more fully into his arms. Perhaps if she
tried a little harder, things would come right.

His hot kisses
smothered all her thoughts for the moment, blanking her mind. She
had to give this one last try, to be sure.

But a soft
knock at the door brought her back to reality with a rush. Why did
something or someone always interrupt them? Was it fate? It was
room service with another bottle of chilled champagne.

"That'll be
all, thank you." Greg smiled and handed the waiter a large tip.

She breathed in
deeply.

A sudden stab
of sadness swelled within her. This was not what she wanted, from
Greg or any other man. She didn't want a romp in bed with him, just
because he'd arranged it. She wanted his heart and mind as well.
Not just a night in bed.

Greg came
innocently back to her side. He offered her more champagne and she
took it. It didn't help. She felt awful. And where would she get
the courage to tell him?

"In a hurry,
darling?" He smiled magnetically as he took the glass from her
nimble fingers and set it on the patio table beside them. His lips
burned against her skin as he insinuated himself closer.

Funny, but his
expensive after shave irritated her nose. Greg wore only the
best of everything. His suits were from his own tailor. His cologne
was shipped in from the east.

Oh, why
couldn't she love him? She needed to love him. She should love him,
but the truth was there…she didn't love him.

Maxine's words
haunted her too. "He'll dump you at the airport on his way to
Washington."

Unaware her
dress was half unzipped, she gasped when he slid his hand inside to
cup one breast. He groaned aloud, impatience in his voice. His
fingers caressed her. Smooth fingers, not callused. But she ached
for those callused fingers that would never be hers, not now, not
after this.

She felt like a
piece of stone.

"Oh, please,"
she begged raggedly.

He mistook her
begging for more, and tightened his hold of her.

But she pulled
gently out of his arms. "No, Greg, this isn't right. I mean,
I…can't." Admit it, girl, you are chicken. No, she practically
screamed.

"Of course it's
right," he murmured pulling her back against him so she could feel
his arousal.

"No, don't you
see?" She pulled out of his embrace, her eyes full of unshed tears.
"It's too contrived, too arranged. I can't go through with it.
We're trying to act out a love scene that neither of us is sure
about. We haven't shared enough of ourselves to do this, Greg. That
much I know, and I feel."

"What are you
trying so hard not to say?" he demanded, his tone imposing.

"I can't go
through with this. I wanted to. I planned to, but I can't. Just
like you couldn't give me a ring."

"A ring?" Greg
stood there, gazing at her in a stupor. As though the thought never
occurred to him before.

"A man wants a
woman's body, to use for his own purposes. A woman wants stability,
a ring."

"I don't
believe this. You are ruining our evening together over a stupid
thing like a ring. That's just a formality. Why, I can buy you the
biggest ring this side of the Rio Grande."

"So, is going
to bed a formality?"

"Now look,
Angela. I love you. I want to marry you. And you'll have dozens of
rings. But we are two adults. We know what we want. At your age,
I'd suspect you were ripe for this, why are you fighting it?"

"You keep
saying we love each other. You keep saying we'll be married. But a
ring is a real promise. I've been put off for a long time. I've
been patient. And now you're going to have to be."

Greg was silent
for a long moment, then he sighed and leaned against the sliding
door. "No, this isn't over a ring, is it. Don't you think I know? I
have felt this coming for a long time. It's been rather tense at
the office. I've blamed it on your hiring that Johnson character. I
blamed it on my career. I even blamed it on Josh. But the truth is,
you don't love me, and perhaps I don't love you either. You're
right, Angela, I should have given you a ring long ago, and
announced our engagement publicly, that' where I went so wrong.. I
should have treated you like the lady you are, and not like this. I
was wrong. But I do care for you, admire you, even love you, in my
own way. It's just not enough."

"What?"

"I said, you
don't love me. And I don't love you enough for both of us."

Hearing the
words from his mouth made her want to deny it all. But it was the
truth. And perhaps Greg had known it longer than she had. He was
being so decent about the whole thing she felt guilty.

She hung her
head, in sadness, feeling the loss. "I tried to. When I first met
you I thought I'd found Mr Right. Mr Perfect. You were everything I
was brought up to believe is good and right. You were ambitious,
clever, good looking, and smart. You had that 'lived in' look.
Comfortable. So comfortable in fact I could picture you at home, at
night, with a pipe in your mouth, your bedroom slippers by your
favorite chair, a newspaper in your hand, a dog at your side. I saw
you as a perfect father, perfect man."

"And now?"

"I wanted to
make it come true."

"But?"

"But, you're
right. I'm not in love with you, Greg. As much as I tried to be,
I'm not. You are a wonderful man, brilliant, but . . ."

"I think I knew
it all along. In fact, I think I must have seen you the same way.
Untouchable. So perfect."

Her head lifted
and she gazed at him. "What do you mean? I was never perfect. I
came in late. Didn't take enough interest in your work. So many
things are wrong now that I look at it."

He smiled,
stuck his hands in his pocket and moved to stand beside her. "You
were Miss Prim and Proper. You were the perfect little lady image.
Not brash like Maxine. Not overly noticeable. You wouldn't steel
the limelight from me, but you'd always be there waiting for me
when I came home. The 'little woman'. The more I pictured you this
way, the more I wanted you."

It had never
dawned on her that Greg might have fantasies too.

"Can we until
be friends? I mean, after all this?"

"Always."

"You're not mad
about tonight?"

He managed a
tight smile. "It's a darn waste, but no, I'm not mad. I guess in
some ways, I should be grateful."

"Will you take
me to my car now?"

He hung his
head, lit a cigarette and nodded. "Sure. If you're sure that's what
you want."

She nodded
sadly. "Yes, I'm afraid so."

"You look
gorgeous in that dress. Any man would want you."

She smiled, and
zipped herself up, then put her heels on. She grabbed her champagne
glass and sipped the rest of it down slowly, holding it in the air
as she finished.

"You really
have marvellous taste, Greg."

"Even in
women," he smiled and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

As they were
leaving they both turned once more and glanced over their shoulder
at what might have been.

CHAPTER
THIRTEEN

Fifties music
played softly in the background as Angela drove home. A light rain
pelted the windshield. It seemed as though the rain would never
end. She felt sad, and yet suddenly free. And on top of that she
felt like a real woman again. Strange how not having sex with a man
could do such a thing.

She wasn't
going to worry about breaking up with Greg. It was over, and they
would remain friends, thank goodness. And, thank God, she hadn't
let it go too far before she realized what a mistake it was. She
was awed at how easy it had been to let Greg down. For that she was
grateful.

As she pulled
her pickup into the drive, she saw the lights were out and decided
to tiptoe quietly into her bedroom and go to bed. She was drained.
It had been an experience. One she didn't want to repeat for a long
time.

Once
comfortably inside her own room, she shed her clothes, put her
flannel gown on and switched on the radio to the same station she
had been listening to. The music and soft sounds of rain lulled her
to sleep.

Then it
happened again. The same old dream, the same shadow of a man, an
intriguing man. There was the strange sensation that she knew this
man, but he was a man with no face. Without a shadow of a doubt he
was the man who loved her. It always began the same way - a
stranger, in the shadows, coming through the darkness, swooping her
into his arms, lying beside her, loving her, yet not touching her.
This was her soul-mate. The one true love she had never found, even
with Raif. With this man there was some sort of psychic, emotional
connection that went beyond the realms of day-to-day life.

"And that's
total nonsense," she wailed as her eyes came open and reality
flooded her once more. She switched off the radio with vehemence.
Damn those soft songs.

She was past
the age of believing that some man, any man was going to walk into
her life and carry her away. There were no dream lovers! Only
dreams.

She chalked it
all up to her circumstance. A woman her age, who hadn't had an
affair in ten years, had to have something. She had a dream
lover.