A Soft Place to Fall (9 page)

Her eyelids fluttered open. "I love that
robe."

"Not any more you don't."

She sighed deeply and lifted a bare foot,
toes pointed. "New beginnings," she said. "Lots of 'em today." She
frowned slightly, as if she were trying to focus in on just one of
him. "Goodnight."

"That's it?" He started to laugh. "No 'thanks
for saving my life' or 'who the hell are you'?"

"Too sleepy . . . some other time." She
closed her eyes and started to slip beneath the surface of the
water.

"C'mon, don't do that –" What choice did he
have? He dropped the robe in the sink then tried to find the least
incendiary part of her slippery wet body to grab hold of. There
wasn't one. He slid his hands under her arms and pulled her against
his chest, trying to pretend she wasn't round and soft and naked.
Her head dropped against his shoulder. He could feel her breath
against the side of his neck. Hell, he could feel it everywhere.
Her long curly hair was wet and smelled of shampoo. He wondered how
it would feel, spilling across his bare chest while she straddled
him.

Dangerous ground. He'd never taken advantage
of a woman and he wasn't about to start now, even if his mind was
taking him places he hadn't been in a long time.

Somehow he managed to get her to loop an arm
around his neck long enough for him to scoop her out of the
tub.

She murmured something then nuzzled closer
and he struggled to hang on to his rapidly shredding sense of all
that was right and decent. The connection he had felt when he first
saw her leaning over her shopping cart in the parking lot was
nothing compared to the powerful desire that was wreaking havoc on
him.

"What the hell am I going to do with you?" he
said aloud.

He had saved her from fire and drowning. All
he had to do now was save her from himself.

The cottage was tiny and ten steps later he
found himself in the doorway to a bedroom that seemed to be all bed
and no room. A beautiful sleigh bed, the wood smooth and unstained,
rose up from the polished floor like something from a Russian fairy
tale. Two black and white cats watched from the foot, alert to
Max's whimpering from the doorway. All Sam had to do was settle the
bundle of woman onto the mattress without enjoying himself any more
than necessary.

The bed was piled high with clothes: jeans,
sweaters, a velvet dress the color of the midnight sky. Everything
but sheets and a blanket.

"Work with me," he said as he tried to sit
her up at the edge of the bed. "I have to clear a spot for
you."

She bestowed another one of those loopy
smiles on him then proceeded to slide off the bed onto the floor
where Max tried to sniff her hair.

"She has enough trouble," Sam said, and gave
the dog a gentle push toward the living room.

He quickly shoved the clothes to the far side
of the mattress then picked her up one more time. He told her to
stay put while he searched out some towels and blankets but the
soft thud as he left the room told him otherwise.

"What the hell am I going to do with
you?"

The cats' unblinking stares followed every
move he made as he placed her on the mattress, tucked a pillow
under her head, hunted around for towels and a blanket to cover
her. He tried to wrap a towel around her wet hair but she pushed
him away. It would be easier to gather mercury in your bare hands
than to convince her to stay put for more than ten seconds. He
grabbed an assortment of sweaters and a winter coat from the jumble
of garments then covered her with them. She mumbled something he
assumed wasn't thank you.

"Don't move," he said, then laughed out loud.
As if she had any idea what he was saying.

He stood in the doorway for a minute. Her
face was buried against the sleeve of a dark navy wool coat. Her
eyes were closed. With a little luck she was sound asleep and would
stay that way until morning. He used the opportunity to extinguish
the candles in the bathroom, pull the stopper on the tub, and put
towels down on the wet floor. Max watched him from the hallway,
tail thumping in pure enjoyment.

The front door was a whole other problem.
He'd kicked it off its hinges and it now hung crazily in the frame.
He'd need to make a trip to a hardware store in the morning so he
could set it right again. He fit the door into the opening then
pushed a suitcase in front of it. The solution wasn't going to win
any awards but it would keep strangers out and Max and the cats in
and right now that was the most he could ask for.

He barely had time to secure the door when he
heard another thud from the bedroom. He found her sitting naked on
the floor in the hallway – the bed took up the entire room –
looking so completely astonished that he couldn't help
laughing.

"Here," he said, taking off his shirt and
handing it to her. "Put this on."

She had trouble coordinating her movements so
he helped guide her arms into the proper sleeves. Her fingers
fumbled at the buttons.

"Wrong side," he said.

She tried again. "I'm really not this
stupid," she said, her words slightly slurred.

He knelt down on the floor in front of her.
"Here," he said. "I'll do it for you." She smelled sweet and his
body responded fiercely to her nearness. Her fair skin was rosy
from the bath. Her curly hair drifted wild and damp across her
shoulders. Her breasts were round and full and beautiful and she
was completely at his mercy. The champagne had demolished her
defenses. It would be easy to draw one of her tightly budded
nipples between his lips and tease the tender flesh with his teeth.
She would moan softly in the back of her throat and arch her back
and he would slip his hand between her legs and feel her desire. It
would be quick and fierce and primal. She would come first, he
would see to that, and then when she was beginning her slow descent
from the pinnacle, he would let himself go and she would rise again
with him, higher and higher, until they crashed into the stars.

He thought about flat tires, the Yankees'
batting order, the mileage between Shelter Rock Cove and every
major city in the United States while he quickly buttoned up her
shirt, being careful not to touch even a millimeter of her lush and
sensual body. When they made love, he wanted her to be there with
him, body and soul.

Chapter Four

"Call her," Susan said as she scrunched down
into the pillows with the phone pressed to her ear. "You screwed
up. You created an awkward moment. Apologize before it goes any
further."

"Apologize for what," Hall demanded, his
voice slightly muffled on the other end of the line. "I didn't do
anything wrong."

"You acted like a jerk. You let yourself get
all bent out of shape over some guy whose dog trashed her car."

"He skips out after his dog trashes her car
and you're calling
me
a jerk?"

"You're missing the point."

"And you're missing Letterman," her husband
grumbled from his side of the bed.

She poked him in the shin with her heel.

"What point?" Hall asked. She could hear the
sound of papers rustling in the background. What was it with men
and the telephone? They never gave it the full attention it
deserved.

"The point is that this guy and his dog
aren't the point at all. Why waste time worrying about some tourist
passing through town? Annie's here, and so are you. So what are you
going to do about it?"

More paper rustling on the other end of the
line.

"Stay out of it, Susie," her husband said in
a low voice. "You're asking for trouble."

She ignored him. He hated it when she played
matchmaker but, as she frequently pointed out to anyone who would
listen, she was responsible for three happy marriages in Shelter
Rock Cove over the last ten years and she was gunning for number
four.

"Quit reading your mail while we're talking,"
she snapped at Hall. "You've waited twenty years for a chance to
ask Annie out. I hope you're not planning to wait another twenty
before you actually get around to it."

She slammed down the phone. Sometimes a man
needed emphatic punctuation before he got the point.

"You're wasting your time," Jack said as she
scooted over closer to him.

"You don't know what you're talking about."
She slipped into the crook of his arm and rested her head on his
chest.

"It'll never work out between them."

"Sure it will."

"Annie doesn't see him that way."

"She doesn't see
any
man that way yet
but when she does --"

He held her close and kissed the top of her
head. "When she does it won't be the Good Doctor Talbot."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do," he said, "and so do you. When
Annie falls in love again, it won't be with anyone from Shelter
Rock Cove."

"Crystal balls," she asked dryly, "or is this
just your way of telling me to mind my own business."

He laughed, which was one of the reasons she
loved him. "Kevin's shadow is everywhere in this town, Suze, and
she knows it. One day some stranger's going to come riding in and
our Annie will take a look at him and
pow
! We'll get a phone
call from Vegas from the happy couple."

Susan pretended to shudder. "That's
horrible."

"That's the way it's gonna happen and we both
know it."

"Vegas?"

"One of those little chapels on the
Strip."

"Not with a total stranger. Annie's not the
impulsive type."

"We all are," Jack said, "given the right
circumstances."

"Nope," she said with conviction, "not Annie.
She's too levelheaded for that."

"Our girl's changing --"

"She is not."
Don't lie, Susan Mary
Frances Galloway Aldrin. Isn't that exactly what you said to Annie
in her kitchen?

"Take another look, Suze. This isn't the same
woman who was Kevin's wife."

Tears filled her eyes. She wasn't the type of
woman who gave into her feelings easily -- at least, not when
anyone could see her. "I don't want things to change." Not in a way
that was beyond her control. "Dad's gone, and so is Kevin, and my
mother isn't getting any younger . . . who knows what's around the
next corner. I've had enough." She struggled to rein in her
emotions. "I've just had enough change to last a lifetime."

"You sound like Claudia."

She laughed despite herself. "That's a
terrible thing to say."

"You know I love your mother but if she had
her way we'd all be watching Lawrence Welk on a black-and-white TV.
Can't do it, Suze. Life keeps finding a way."

She understood what he was saying but she
wasn't ready to accept it.

"I wish we could stop time . . . just stay
the way we are right now." She took his hand and kissed each
callused fingertip. "Is that so much to ask?"

"No," said her husband of twenty years. "Not
too much at all."

#

Hall hated it when Susan was right. They had
been friends since grade school and her taste in his women was a
hell of a lot better than his. Women had been interested in him
since his voice changed. That had never been a problem. Picking the
right one for the long haul – well, that was something else
again.

When he married Margaux straight out of med
school, Susan had told him it would never work but he refused to
listen. Six years later when he was getting ready to walk down the
aisle with Denise, Susan had waggled her finger under his nose and
ordered him to think very carefully about what he was doing because
she absolutely refused to buy him a third wedding present. She had
made a joke of it but they both knew she meant every word. She was
kind enough not to mention that fact when he married Yvonne.

Funny thing was each time he had believed the
marriage would work. He wanted a family. He wanted a marriage that
would last a lifetime. He had been brought up with those values and
he still believed in them. His ex-wives were beautiful,
accomplished women whose backgrounds and beliefs matched his down
to the ground. He made good money as a doctor so they could pursue
their own careers and other interests without worrying about where
the next meal was coming from. There had been no screaming fights
during either marriage, no wide expanses of disappointment or
disinterest. In both cases the marriage should have worked and
worked well and when he found himself in the middle of an amicable
split nobody was more surprised than Hall and nobody less surprised
than Susan Galloway Aldrin.

"You're never going to be happy as long as
you're still carrying that torch for Annie," she had told him
during the Memorial Day Haddock Fry on the town green. "You need
closure, Dr. Talbot, and until you find it nothing's going to work
out for you."

Four months had passed since that
conversation and he was still wondering how in hell to make the
first move. How did you tell the woman you'd loved since high
school that you knew the reason why she didn't sleep well at night,
why she was so determined to keep her flower shop thriving, why
she'd sold the beautiful center hall Colonial and all of the
furniture in it and moved to a shack by the water? How did you tell
her that her husband had asked you for money a few days before he
died and that you'd sent him away empty-handed and told yourself
you were doing them both a favor when maybe that wasn't strictly
true..

Hall had told Kevin it was for his own good,
that he had to come clean and figure a way out of the mess he'd
made of his life before it was too late. He offered Kevin the name
of a financial counselor who could help him figure a way back from
the abyss but it was like talking to the wind off the ocean. Kevin
was always a gentleman, even when his back was to the wall. He
listened, he thanked Hall for his time, then he turned and walked
out of the office. That was the last time Hall saw him alive.