Sunny Chandler's Return (4 page)

“I always thought it was correct for a woman to dab perfume behind her ears and on her wrists.”

“It is,” Sunny said gruffly.

“Yes, but it evaporates more quickly there. Perfume should either be applied with cotton or sprayed on. I didn’t know until I visited the shop that putting it on with a finger taints what is left in the bottle.”

“It has something to do with one’s own body acid, I believe.”

“And this lady explained to me that to get the maximum benefit of any fragrance, where it blends with a woman’s body heat and emanates the scent every time she moves, she should apply it to—”

“I’ve really got to go in.”

“—her hair...her breasts...her stomach...her... thighs.”

His eyes touched each spot as he spoke the particular word. On the last word, his eyes stayed in the vicinity of Sunny’s lap. “Tell me, Sunny, being the sensuous woman you are, have you ever applied perfume to your”—his gaze moved up with agonizing slowness— “hair?”

For a moment she could say nothing. A bead of sweat rivered down between her breasts. A matching one rolled down Ty’s throat. The insects buzzed lullingly. The faint breeze whispered through the feathery branches of the cypresses, but everything else was still, especially the stare that Sunny shared with Ty Beaumont.

“I think I’d really better go in now,” she said at last. “I might get burned.” She didn’t mean it as a double entendre and hoped he didn’t take it that way. It was difficult to tell exactly what his half smile meant.

“George told me quite a story about you.”

She hated him for bringing her past into their conversation. At the same time she thanked him. It served to yank her out of the muzzy state his deep voice had induced while talking about perfume and its application. Was she nuts? Why hadn’t she gotten up and gone in? Maybe she
had
been in the sun too long.

“Was it true, Sunny?”

“That depends on what he told you, doesn’t it?” she demanded sharply.

“He said you were one of the prettiest girls in school.”

Sunny glanced away. “I guess I was well liked.”

“Is that why you came back to Latham Green after four years of college?”

“My parents still lived here.”

“Then. But not now.”

“No, not now.”

“Not since you marched out of the Baptist church and left your bridegroom standing at the altar.”

Sunny glared at him. “Well, that answers my question. I see that George was talkative.”

“Can you blame him? That’s quite a story. I don’t recall ever hearing about another bride who, when asked, ‘Will you...’ et cetera, said, ‘No, I don’t believe I will,’ and turned on her heel and marched down the aisle and out of the church, leaving everybody, the bridegroom included, flabbergasted.”

Sunny’s cheeks were fiery and it had nothing to do with the slight sunburn she was getting. Memories overwhelmed her. Like quagmires in the nearby swamp, they had been concealed, waiting for her to slip and fall into them so they could suck her under and smother her.

“That took a lot of guts,” Ty said, watching her closely.

She had thought he might laugh at her or joke about the bizarre way she had halted her wedding ceremony. Instead he looked almost commiserative. Well, she appreciated his not making fun of her, but she sure as hell didn’t need his pity.

“I couldn’t marry him.”

“I don’t think I could, either. If I were a woman, that is. Don Jenkins is as dry and crusty as yesterday’s toast. He would never have satisfied a sensuous woman like you. He wouldn’t even know where to start.”

Scooting on his bottom, Ty moved closer to her. “It just seems to me that you would have known that before the preacher posed that all-important question. I mean, there you were in your long, white lace wedding dress.”

“It was ecru,” she corrected absently. Lost in memory, she picked at the frayed hem of her beach towel.

“From what George told me, everybody in town was there.”

“Yes.”

“Why’d you do it, Sunny?”

Memories and lethargy were swept away by a sudden clarity. Her head snapped up. Her eyes were glowing like hot coals. “None of your damn business, Mr. Beaumont.”

A laugh started as a low rumble deep in his chest. “And apparently nobody else’s, either. To this day no one has figured it out. There’s been speculation, of course.”

“I’m sure there has been.”

“Like a baby.”

“
What
?” Sunny’s breath rushed out. She had to drag it back before she could add, “They think I was pregnant?”

“According to George, that was everybody’s first guess. You left because you couldn’t bear the shame.”

“Latham Green isn’t that far behind the times. Lots of girls have been pregnant on their wedding day.”

“But the babies belonged to the men they were marrying.”

Sunny only stared at him in speechless amazement. “You mean everybody thought...” She couldn’t even verbalize the scandalous idea.

Ty shrugged. “It was mentioned that the baby belonged to someone besides Don.”

Disgusted with the fertile imaginations of small-town minds, Sunny said, “There
was
no baby, for heaven’s sake. Don’s or anyone else’s.”

“I didn’t think so. No stretch marks.” Before she could prepare herself for it, he ran his finger over the taut skin of her lower abdomen. “Naturally I’d have to see your breasts to be positive.”

Sunny retreated beyond his reach. “I’ve never had a baby,” she ground out.

He poked the air with his index finger. “Now
that
was everyone’s second theory. You were supposed to have a baby, but you didn’t.”

“An abortion?” Sunny, horrified by the thought, could barely breathe the word. “Everybody figured that I ran off to New Orleans to get an abortion?” She covered her face with her hands. “No wonder my parents had to leave.” After a moment, she flung her head back and glared up at Ty. “Tell me the rest of it. What else do they say?”

“It gets real nasty from here.”

“I want to know. Fran never would tell me what everybody said about me after I left. Tell me.” He seemed reluctant. “Tell me,” she repeated stubbornly.

He drew a deep breath. “Some thought you might have been on drugs.”

“Ridiculous. What else?”

“VD was a consideration, but thought highly unlikely. Some thought you might like girls better than boys.”

“You’re kidding!”

“I’m only repeating what George said, you understand. The most popular theory, second to the baby one, was that you...uh...never mind.”

“Come on, give.”

“Nope, I gotta be going.”

He made as if to rise. Sunny caught his arm. “Tell me, damn you. You brought this up.”

His gaze moved slowly over her troubled face, taking in the messy ponytail on the top of her head and the curling tendrils that sweat had glued to her neck. It finally settled on her mouth. “Are you frigid, Sunny?”

Her hand fell from his arm. She stared up at him in mute incredulity. “Just because I wouldn’t marry Don, they think I’m frigid?”

He frowned and gave a dismissive shrug. “People talk. They make up things and twist them until the wild stories fit their own purposes.” He peered at her closely. “Of course, there’s usually some basis for speculation.”

“There’s absolutely no basis for this speculation.”

“George says you went through boyfriends like Kleenex.”

“George is prone to exaggerate.”

“Didn’t you have a string of broken hearts to your credit?”

“I had my fair share of dates.”

“Boys talk.”

“Meaning?”

“According to George, no one ever claimed to... you know. You never...”

Sunny was fuming. “Went all the way?”

He flashed a fleeting, though dazzling, smile. “Quaint phrase, but that about sums it up, yes. From what I hear, you left the boys of Latham Green hot and bothered. You’d only go so far, then zip.” He laughed at his own play on words. “I didn’t mean that literally.”

“Disgusting.” Despite the heat, she shivered.

“Some unflattering names are pinned on girls who tease.” His blue gaze moved over her. “Personally I don’t believe it about you. But you’ve got to admit they have a good case. You’re still single. You don’t have any boyfriends.”

“I have boyfriends!”

“How many?”

Sunny was immobilized when the realization struck her. She shot him a baleful look from beneath her brows, then gradually raised her head. Her golden eyes were smoldering. “You’re making all this up, aren’t you? Aren’t you?” She surged to her feet. “You bastard.” She aimed a kick at his shin, but he dodged it. “Get off my pier.”

He sprang to his feet, reached for her and missed. “Just calm down.”

“Calm down? Calm down!” She was so furious her voice squeaked. “I’m going to kill you. I have a gun in the cabin,” she warned, pointing in that direction. “I’ll shoot you if you don’t get into that boat—”

“I only wanted to know who my competition was.”

“You don’t have any competition because you aren’t even in the running.”

“From my point of view it looks like you’re leading me a merry chase.”

“Tell it to the devil when you see him.”

“Now, Sunny, is that nice? I wasn’t making it
all
up. There
was
gossip about a baby and an abortion and all the rest.” He lowered his head until his lips were moving only inches above hers. “I only added the part about you being frigid to see how you’d react.” Smiling, he placed his hands on her shoulders. “You shot that theory all to hell. You’re as hot as a firecracker.”

“You’ll never know, Mr. Beaumont.”

“Don’t be too sure. I want to win that wager. I like a glass of whiskey in the evening, especially when it’s mixed with just enough water to make it the color of your eyes.”

“Let go of me.”

“I like the way it goes down.” He pulled her closer. “Smooth and warm. I like when it hits my belly and spreads its heat.”

Sunny’s knees weren’t making any guarantees that they could support her should he let go. On the contrary, they threatened to unhinge at any moment. Her senses were reeling. It was true that she had men friends who took her out to dinner and to the movies, a few of whom she would invite in for drinks and some harmless necking.

But never in her life had she met a man who turned her inside out just by what he said and the suggestive way he said it. The men she went out with were unremarkable and forgettable. Once she bade a date good night, she rarely remembered what he had worn or what his cologne had smelled like.

Ty Beaumont wouldn’t be so easily forgotten. His hard frame was imprinting itself on the front of her body, stamping an impression so deep that even when it was no longer there she knew she would feel it. The smell of his skin would tantalize her memory forever.

That didn’t prove that she wanted him. It only proved that she was alive. Because only a female corpse could resist this inundation of masculinity.

“Even if I hadn’t bet a case of whiskey on it, I’d still want to take you to bed, Sunny Chandler. You’re just as intoxicating.”

“I won’t stand here and—”

“Good idea.”

Before she knew what was happening, she was sitting on the towel again. Ty was on his knees, straddling her thighs and supporting her head with his strong hands.

When she saw his mouth descending toward hers, she turned her head away. “No!”

He inclined his head back. “Maybe I was right. Maybe you can’t stand a man’s touch.”

“That’s not true.”

“Well then...”

Sunny flopped down on the bed.

The cold shower hadn’t helped. Lowering the air conditioner’s thermostat hadn’t helped. Turning on the rotating fan overhead hadn’t helped.

She was hot.

She had adjusted the shutters on the window to allow only narrow stripes of sunlight through. The bedroom, which had always been hers when her family used the cabin, should have been cool by now. Instead she felt as if it were stifling and she was on fire.

Impatient with the heat, she sat up and whipped the nightgown over her head and tossed it on the rocking chair beside the bed. She had put the nightie on after her shower because it was the coolest garment she owned. The white lawn didn’t touch anywhere except the shoulder straps...except for today. This afternoon it seemed to cling to her like an affectionate ghost.

And, just as tenaciously, her mind clung to the memory of that hateful kiss.

She hadn’t responded.

“I didn’t,” she hissed at the ceiling, as though to convince it of what she hadn’t been able to persuade herself.

His mouth had been so unapologetically hungry, so consummately male, as it moved over hers. He had pressed his lips determinedly against hers until they had parted. Then—

Sunny groaned. Her stomach went weightless and her womanhood blossomed with a pulsing warmth when she recalled his tongue sleekly thrusting its way between her lips and into her mouth. Undisciplined. Erotic. Such a thief. Because it had robbed her of the will to resist.

At that moment she had stopped trying to squirm away from him. The bones in her neck had turned to jelly. Her head had fallen back even more, giving him freer access to her mouth. Again and again his tongue had penetrated, delving deeper each time.

She had allowed it! Heaven forbid, she had even encouraged it, reaching for his tongue with her own when his withdrew.

With her capitulation, his hold had gentled. The hands, which had been firmly cupping the back of her head, moved down to her neck. His fingers stroked her nape with the same loving tenderness that his lips pressed soft kisses onto hers.

“My fingers are still oily,” he had whispered. “Think how good it would feel if I...”

Sunny looked down at her body now and saw that her nipples were responding with the recollection just as they had at his breathtaking suggestions. When he had whispered in that devil’s voice of his about what he would like to do with his lips and tongue, her breasts had ached with longing for him to stop talking about it and start doing it.

Sunny shuddered. Her skin was finally cooling off. She had goose bumps. But the fire inside her still raged out of control. It was a conflagration of humiliation as much as desire.