Moon Dance (35 page)

"Remind me to ask you about that later," she said as she lay back against the cushions and pulled him to her.

"Later, I'll tell you anything you want to know. Bu
t later, Georgia. Much later…"

Georgia slipped the shirt from her shoulders and his lips sank to her collarbone where his tongue traced a long, slow line up her neck to her waiting mouth. Hot tongues teased and tasted, trading sensation and promising more. His hands lifted her slowly, repositioning her body atop his own where he could see her, could feel her, could love her without fearing that he was crushing the life from her, as he had been afraid of doing the weekend before. She sat up slightly and pulled the camisole to her waist, bringing his hands up to cup her breasts, moaning slightly at the touch of his fingers on her anxious flesh. When she could take no more of his searching hands, his eager mouth , she reached beneath her to tug at the zipper of his jeans and freed him, raising her skirt and sinking upon him, taking him in, taking his breath away.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, watching her face, her eyes half-closed with pleasure.

"You're so beautiful," he told her again, as she arched her back and cried out.

"You're so beautiful," he repeated after he had shattered and shivered within her and had drawn her down tightly into his arms. "Now, if I fall asleep, will you disappear again? Will you run off to dance in the moonlight without me?"

"You could dance with me," she told him. "We could choreograph a
pas de deux
…
"

"I think we just did that," he smiled, "and if we can remember the steps, we could do it again."

"Oh, we can always improvise, you know," she whispered.
"I'm great at improvisation…"

Georgia was, Matt found, true to her word. Any dancing she did that night, she did with him, a long, sweet
pas de deux
that lasted nearly till dawn and left her far too tired to dance alone in the moonlight even if she'd wanted to.

A
t nine, Georgia awoke to the smell of coffee and the rollicking music of the Rolling Stones's
Gimme Shelter
blasting from the kitchen. Rolling over to look at the clock, she groaned and sat up gingerly, trying to recall the last time she'd slept past six-thirty.

"And just think how much worse I'd feel if I wasn't in shape," she muttered.

"But you have to admit it was worth it," Matt laughed from the doorway, where he leaned against the jamb, watching her fitful maneuver to the side of the bed.

"One has nothing to do with the other," she grumbled. "I am an athlete. I should not be slowed down by normal nocturnal activities."

"Sweetheart, if that was your idea of normal nocturnal activity, one of us will be in a wheelchair by the time we're thirty."

"Well, it won't be me. Some of my muscles are just a tad
…
rusty, that's all." She swung her legs over the side of the bed, wrapping the sheet around her. It was then she saw the mug he'd set on the wide window ledge. "Is that coffee? You brought me coffee?" She sighed gratefully.

"I thought to atone for keeping you awake all night," he said, trying to look contrite.

"It'll take more than coffee…"
She sipped at the warm dark liquid. "Although on second thought, this coffee just might do it."

"One of my specialties. French breakfast blend mixed with Colombian beans. And breakfast is in twenty minutes."

"Just enough time for me to grab a quick shower." She headed for the bathroom, then turned and asked, "What's for breakfast?"

"It's a surprise."

She took three more steps down the hall, then looked over her shoulder. "Just what
do
you do to stay in shape?"

"I joined a gym."

"Ah, that explains it," she muttered as she continued on to the shower, "all those
different kinds of machines…"

He laughed and watched her disappear through the bathroom door.

"We never finished watching the movie last night," Georgia reminded him when she came into the kitchen, wearing the shirt she had worn the night before, along with the skirt. She wasn't sure what had happened to the camisole, but was pretty sure it was in the living room someplace. She'd look later. Right now, she had breakfast to share with Matt—so cute in bare feet a
nd khaki shorts and T-
shirt advertising a dog training school—and in little more than an hour, Laura would arrive in a van filled with aspiring ballerinas.

He pulled out a chair for her at the small table, and she sat down.

"Well, we can always try again tonight," he said as
he took the coffee cup from her hands and refilled it without her asking. "Maybe by the end of the weekend we'll have seen the entire film
,"
he grinned and placed a perfect omelet—fluffy eggs wrapped around long tender spears of asparagus—before her on the table.

"Oh, this looks wonderful," she beamed.

"Well, actually, I planned on making this for you for dinner tonight," he bent down and kissed the back of her neck. "It hadn't occurred to me that I'd be making three meals for you this weekend."

"Curried vegetables, fresh coffee first thing in the morning, and this beautiful breakfast," she sighed, then laughed and said jokingly, "Will you marry me?"

His hands, which had been massaging her shoulders gently, stopped for a long minute, then slowly, began again.

"Yes," he said softly, "I'm thinking I probably
will."

She wanted to say that it had just been a joke, but she couldn't seem to get the words out. Though the remark had been intended as a flippant one, suddenly the idea didn't se
em far-fetched. Not so very far-
fetched at all.

twenty-two

"
I
have to ran back to the house and let Spam out— she probably wonders where I am—and change for my dance class," Georgia was saying as she rinsed off her dishes in the small kitchen sink. "Laura should be here soon with the girls."

"Leave those, I'll clean up," he told her.

"You know, I have to tell you that you are probably the neatest man I've ever met. I used to think my brother was neat, but you have it all over him."

"I got into the habit when I was really small. The only thing Mom ever asked of Laura and me was that we pick up after ourselves, so I always did."

"You can come next door and pick up after me anytime," she tugged on his collar to bring his face closer so that she could kiss him before floating through the door.

"And I probably will have to," he said to himself, recalling the dishes stacked in her sink, the unmade bed that never seemed to be of any concern to her. Georgia seemed to have different priorities. While
she wasn't by any means slovenly, she seemed to go from one busy activity to another, pausing to clean up on her return trip, as it were. Breakfast dishes might be washed with those from dinner. It never seemed to matter to her, when she had other, more interesting things to do.

By the time Matt had finished cleaning up from the night before, including the drips of candle wax here and there, Laura's van was pulling into the driveway and six or seven eager little dancers were spilling out. Matt stood in the window and watched as Georgia called a greeting from the back door. She ducked back inside the house for a moment, then skipped down the steps and offered Laura a hug. Surrounded by chatty little girls, some of whom appeared to be showing off their new dancing garb to their teacher, Georgia crossed the yard with her charges. Laura leaned over to pat the pig who had waddled along behind the group and, unable to keep up, had rolled over onto Laura's feet.

Matt heard their feet tramping up the steps, heard them
ooh
and
ah
o
ver the movable barres, and lis
tened as music filled the old ba
rn
to its very rafters. Another car door slammed as the conting
ent of young dancers from O'Hearn
arrived and ran noisily up the steps. The chatter died down in a minute, and the music stopped momentarily, then started from the beginning again. Matt supposed that Georgia had started class, and he fought the urge to go in and take a peek.

He hated the thought of taking that from her, of taking her ballet in the ba
rn
out from under her very feet. Well, she'd have the summer to find another
place to rent for her school. He prayed it would be here, in O'Hea
rn
. It would have to be. He couldn't even think of Georgia leaving Pumpkin Hill
now.
And besides, she clearly loved the farm, and seemed to belong here, as much as he and Laura belonged. She had fit in so easily, had taken to the place so completely, that he could almost fancy that Hope herself had had a hand in it.

He finished cleaning up the apartment, then glanced at his watch. Georgia would teach for maybe another twenty minutes. Laura was wandering around outside with Artie and Spam, and Matt decided to join them.

"Hey," he called to her.

"Matt," she waved. "I was beginning to think you were sleeping late today."

"Not a chance." He caught up with his sister and kissed her on the cheek. "Especially with the Lo
ndon Symphony playing in the barn
."

"Oh. Is the music bothering you?" Laura frowned. She didn't need one more thing for Matt to hold against Georgia.

"Nah. I'm getting used to it."

"Really?" Laura looked pleased.

"Sure. A little Bach, a little Chopin, early on a Saturday morning never hurt anyone." He grinned, recalling that Laura still didn't know that he and Georgia had kissed and made up. So to speak. "Where are you headed? Anyplace in particular?''

"I thought I'd go see Georgia's vegetable garden. She was making scarecrows this week. Excuse me," she laughed and corrected herself, "she referred to them as
scarecrones."

"Then we'll have to take a look." He fell in step next to her. "How's everything at the inn?"

"Fine." She nodded.

"Any new or interesting guests?" he prodded, wondering if she'd mention this Tucker guy that Delia and Georgia had mentioned.

"Well, Gordon is still there. He's taken a bedroom-sitting room combination for an unspecified amount of time. I guess until he's done in Bishop's Cove, which could be a year or better, depending on how long it takes him to find something of value on this ship."

"He must have some kind of a crew," Matt went on as if it was just occurring to him. "Where are they all staying?"

"Oh, most of the crew he's hired on locally. He has brought a few specialty divers, though."

"Anyone interesting?"

"Oh, you," she shoved his arm lightly and laughed. "Who have you been talking to?"

He hesitated. He was kind of enjoying the fact that she still had yet to figure out that he and Georgia had begun to forge a relationship.

"I just happened to be here last Sunday morning when Delia stopped by with Gordon. He told me he'd hired on a diver from Devlin's Light who seemed to have trouble keeping his eyes off the innkeeper."

"I met Tucker at Nick and India's wedding. He's an old family friend of the Devlins'." Laura's eyes stared straight ahead, as if searching for something in the distance.

"Gordon said he's a great guy."

"Gordon's right. He is."

"Has he asked you out?"

"Matt, I'm a married…
"

"Laura, don't even say it. If you are still married to that lunatic, it's only because you haven't take the steps to unload him. For cryin' out loud, what are you waiting for?"

"I really don't feel like talking about this, Matthew."

"Laura, are you staying married to him for Ally's sake? Because he's her father?"

"What difference does it make, Matt? I married Gary, we are still married. End of story."

"It's not the end, and you know it. What are you hiding?" He grabbed her arm. "Laura, you act as if you're almost afraid to divorce him."

"Matt
…
" Laura hesitated. She wanted to tell him. Wished
desperately
that she could tell him, but the consequences were too frightening.

"Look, I know that it must be a scary thought, starting over after you've been married and had a child. I understand where that
might
cause you to maybe retain some loyalty to him. And I understand that maybe after this experience, you might be afraid to start another relationship. But Laura, all men are not like Gary, though I understand why you might
…
"

"Oh, Matt," s
he sighed. "You understand nothi
ng.
"

He had opened his mouth to protest when they rounded th
e side of the barn
.

"Oh, Matt, look!" Laura pointed to Georgia's garden. "Georgia's scarecr
ones! Oh, isn't it so like some
thing that Aunt Hope would do?"

"It is," he nodded, impressed and surprised by the display. He wasn't, however, so distracted that he was willing to drop the discussion. "Don't try to change the subject."

"Matt, the subject has been dropped." Better to let it go, she told herself she pretended to admire Georgia's bumper crop of colorful cotton and polyester. For Matt's sake as well as her own. "I've nothing more to say on the matter."

"Well, I have."

"I will say this one more time, Matt, and then it's done." Laura appeared, all of a sudden, to be very weary. "I am still married to Gary. Till death do us part. Don't ask me again, don't bring it up again, because I cannot change what is."

"
Till death do you part?"
he repeated incredulously. "Laura, this is crazy. Have you even gone to the prison to visit him since he was incarcerated?"

She shook her head No.

"Have you thought about what's going to happen when he's released from prison? Are you going to live with him again?"

"No!" She went white.

"So you have no contact with him, you don't
even like the man, yet you…
"

"I told you I didn't want to talk about this," she said harshly, pushing him away from her.

"Laura," he said softly. "We've always been so close. I love you and I worry about you and I want to
help you. Something's not right, and we both know it. Why won't you tell me? Why won't you trust me with this?"

"Because there's nothing you can do to help me, Matt. No one can."

Laura turned her back abruptly and walked back toward the farmhouse.

Stunned, Matt stood amidst Georgia's thriving garden wondering what was going through his sister's head, and what could possibly motivate her to insist upon staying married to the likes of Gary J. Harmon.

"
I
was hoping you could find some time this weekend to stop out at the inn," Laura was telling Georgia as she loaded her passengers back into the van when class had ended. The girls had exhausted themselves chasing Spam and Artie around the farmyard. "I wanted your opinion on the table settings for Zoey and Ben's party. I can't decide which colors to use."

"I'll be driving out this afternoon," Matt said as he approached the van. "I'd be happy to give Georgia a ride."

"Oh, thanks, Matt," Georgia said casually. "That would be nice."

In spite of her earlier pique, Laura's eyebrows raised. Had that really been Matt offering to drive Georgia to Bishop's Cove? Offering to spend a certain hour or so in her company? Will wonders never cease?

Pleased by this unexpected development, Laura
smiled. "Will you both be able to stay for dinner? We've had some knock-out crabs this week. Gordon and his crew have been catching them in the bay.''

"That sounds great." Matt smiled benignly. "How 'bout it, Georgia? Do you have plans for dinner?"

"Why, no, I haven't. Dinner at the inn sounds like fun."

"Great." Laura looked from one to the other, marveling at the change in her brother's attitude.
Maybe they're learning to get along. Maybe someday they'll even learn to like each other. Maybe there's hope for Matt
ye
t…

"Great," she repeated, trying not to appear too hopeful. "What time do you think you'll get there?"

"I just need to shower and change. Maybe we could leave in, say, an hour?" Georgia looked at Matt and tried not to grin.

"That would be fine." He nodded nonchalantly.
"I
guess we'll probably be arriving around three or so."

"Great," Laura said for the third time, thinking, as she drove away, how nice that Matt and Georgia were getting to know each other. It was the only good news she'd had that day.

On the drive to Bishop's Cove, with Artie between them on the seat, Matt repeated his conversation with Laura, asking Georgia, "Does this make any sense to you?"

"None," she shook her head. "I can't think of one reason why Laura would want to stay married to that man. It's so unlike her to behave so oddly."

"Laura is so logical about everything else, I just can't understand i
t." Matt slowed down as he ap
proached the turn for the inn's parking lot.
"Well, let's see how she acts around this diver guy. I have the feeling there's a lot going on here that we don't know about."

"It should be an interesting dinner." Georgia swung the door of the cab open and hopped out. "I'm betting that Laura will be watching us as much as we'll be watching her."

Matt laughed. "Poor Laura is so transparent. She's just so tickled that we're being nice to each other."

"When shall we tell her just how
nice…"

"Oh, not just yet. It's kind of fun, letting her think she's bringing us tog
ether. And I'm sure she's think
ing, tod
ay, Georgia, tomorrow, Delia…"

Georgia laughed out loud, smiling at the two men they passed in the parking lot as they walked toward the back of the inn.
Interesting tattoos,
she thought at the time.
Must be some of Gordon's crew
…

"Laura?" Georgia stuck her head into the kitchen.

"Hi, guys," Jody waved from the opposite side of the stainless-steel counter, her light brown hair pulled atop her head in a tight ponytail that swung around her pretty face with every movement of her head. "Laura's not back yet."

"Not back yet?" Matt frowned. "She left an hour before we did."

"Oh, she's back from O'Hearn
." Jody's eyes took on a twinkle. "She went for a walk on the beach."

"Oh? With anyone we know?" Georgia brightened.