California Dreaming: Four Contemporary Romances (18 page)

John grinned at her. “Quite a soapbox you’ve got there.”

Annie laughed. “Yep.”

“Let’s get out of here,” he said. “How about a walk around the block?”

She looked at her watch. She had about a half hour before she needed to be home for David. “Sounds good.”

After they left the restaurant, he reached for her hand, his eyes steadily on her face as he asked silent permission. She slipped her hand in his in answer.

John’s thoughts were spinning as he and Annie walked toward the bookstore. The murmurs of other strollers and chirps of returning spring birds provided the background score. Flowering trees gave the air the vague scent of perfume that smelled like something his mother might have worn.

John wrestled with his feelings. He wanted to make love to Annie. He’d known it the moment she’d slipped her hand in his, her skin soft against his roughened palm. Her touch had sent a charge up his arm, infusing his body with white heat. What would her lips taste like? How would it be to trail his mouth down her neck, nibbling his way to her breast?

But now wasn’t the time. Would it ever be? His mind turned over the story of her “date” in New Jersey. He’d smoothed the moment over, but it was still churning in his gut. He needed to stop thinking about it.

“How’s David’s shoplifting charge going?” he asked. “His court date is next week, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Annie said. She stepped over the bump in the sidewalk where a tree root was winning the battle against man’s need to pave everything over. “The attorney said he’ll probably get probation. I asked him about taking him to New Jersey with me, and he said there’d be paperwork, but it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“That must be a relief.”

They were silent as they came around the corner by a large Greek Orthodox church. John could see the glow of streetlights from Pacific Avenue and hear the thrum of a Friday night in downtown Santa Cruz. The pulsing urban beat brought back the urge to kiss her and taste the sweetness of her mouth.

He stopped near an alley, a dim spot the streetlights didn’t quite reach, looked down at Annie and saw the same desire he felt in her eyes. Lowering his mouth, he tasted her lips, the sweet acidity of chardonnay still lingering on them.

Annie’s mouth softened against his. He pressed his lips more firmly, pulling her closer, feeling the lines of her body against his. She slid her arms around his waist, drawing closer to him, her breasts against his chest. The heat built in his groin and a moan escaped his throat as he explored her lips with the tip of his tongue, requesting entry. Annie parted her lips in surrender, but he was the one captured by her sweet aroma. He was lost in her, the heartbeat of desire throbbing in his ears.

He let himself delve further into her mouth, the night sounds of the California coastal town receding. His concentration was only on the woman in his arms and the feel of her body against his. He could feel his arousal pressed against her as he pulled her close, but for the moment all he wanted to do was sate himself with her mouth. He wanted to explore every inch of her with his tongue, slowly take her when she was ready and not a moment sooner. Annie was a woman who needed tenderness, a gentle awakening to what love could really be, not what her ex had passed out in its name. Nothing like what that bastard in New Jersey had tried to take.

John lifted his mouth from the sweet depths. His movement startled a morning dove from the sidewalk, its frenetic flapping carrying it to the safety of a nearby telephone wire.

He looked intently at the woman in his arms. She could make him whole again — he knew it. “Annie, stay here. Give us a chance. All I want is some time. I haven’t felt this way since Jessica died — I never thought I’d feel like this again. I don’t think anyone’s ever treated you right, certainly not Fred. Let me show you what you’ve missed.”

Her eyes looked up into his with longing, but then they clouded over with uncertainty. What was stopping her? Was there more to the story in New Jersey than she was letting on? He had to know. He stepped back from their embrace. “What really happened with you and that guy in New Jersey?”

“I told you. Nothing happened with the guy in New Jersey.” Her words were sharp and defensive.

Should he believe her? A whisper of jealously seeped into his mind. He needed the truth. “Why did you go out with him? Couldn’t you wait until you actually moved before you went out with someone?” His voice sounded bitter, even to his own ears.

“I told you. He asked and I automatically said yes.” She paused, as if she’d heard something in her words she’d never heard before. She shrugged. “He seemed like a nice enough guy and a perfect gentleman, maybe a little self-centered, but he had impeccable manners. That is, right up until the point he pushed me against the wall and tried to kiss me.”

“What did you do?”

“Like I said,” she was beginning to sound impatient with him, “I pushed him away. Well, actually, I shoved him and ran to my hotel. He followed me in, but the hotel clerk made him leave.” She took a deep breath. “It was pretty scary, actually.”

He immediately felt ashamed. It had been pretty horrible situation and he was making it worse. He held out his hand. “I’m sorry. Men can be idiots.”

She stared at his hand suspiciously. Then her lips twitched with a smile and she took his hand. “True,” she said.

He guided her back into his arms, meeting her resistance with caresses. “I’ll try not to be an idiot too often,” he whispered into her silken hair.

Her reply was muffled because her face was against his shirt. She leaned into him, as if she couldn’t get close enough. The scent of lavender and mint drifted up from her golden mane.

He reached under her chin, tilted her face up, and lowered his lips to hers. She returned the kiss with passion and pressed further against him with desire. His hands roamed her back, caressing her curves. He wanted to slip his hands under the sweater she wore and feel her skin. She moaned and reached her arms around his waist again.

The soft murmur of voices entered his consciousness. Glancing up, he saw movement on the next block. For a moment, he thought it was only the glare of the streetlight against the plate glass window, but then he saw the group of kids walking toward them. Reluctantly, he pulled away.

“People?” she asked.

“Yes. They probably wouldn’t recognize us in the dark, but I’ve got your reputation to think about.”

“It’s your reputation you should worry about. For a big city, Santa Cruz is a very small town. You don’t want every woman thinking you’re easy.”

John laughed. “I don’t want every woman. I want you. Stay here, Annie. Stay and take a chance on us. We can make it work.”

For a moment, he thought she’d agree. Her eyes were shiny with hope and desire. “I’ll get the job done quickly,” she said. “I’ll come back once a month until I can come back for good. Can you take a chance on me?”

Her earnest face looked up at him. She was different from Deborah … but things happened. He didn’t want a repeat of the pain he’d had with Deborah when she’d taken up with the professor in Bozeman. He couldn’t take that chance. Reluctantly, he shook his head. “I don’t think it will work for me. Maybe I’m not grown up enough or maybe there’s too much water under that particular bridge. I’m afraid I’d make your life miserable with my jealousy and fear. You don’t deserve that.”

He watched her face shut down and the hope go out of her eyes. His heart saddened for both of them.

“Shall we go back?” he asked. She nodded and started walking down the street, John striding beside her. This time he didn’t reach for her hand.

When they got to the corner by the bookstore, she stopped. “I’ll walk to the garage myself.”

“I don’t mind.”

“It’s better this way. Thanks for a lovely evening, John.” Annie stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. Turning, she walked down the street, head held high, her rocking hips keeping in time with the click of her heels.

He was a complete idiot.

• • •

“Just get me the damn report,” John snapped.

“My, aren’t we the pleasant one today,” Sunshine said. “Must have been a terrific date last night.” John glared at her and she scampered out of his office. “Yes, sir. One report coming on up.”

John slammed his hand on the desk. He wished he had a pencil to throw; it would have been much more satisfying. Cupping his hands over his eyes, he tried to concentrate.

Dammit! He couldn’t get her out of his mind. Why was she so hell-bent on moving? Why couldn’t she take the chance?

But then, why should she? They’d only known each other a few weeks. It was nothing to place a lifetime on. But he knew in his gut, just the way he’d known with Jessica. Annie would bring him joy. They’d both had to deal with the curve balls that life could throw and had hopefully gained some wisdom from the experience.

A knock on the doorjamb alerted him to Sunshine’s presence before she tossed the file on his desk.

“I’m sorry,” John said to her retreating back.

She paused and looked over her shoulder. “Want to talk?”

He shook his head. Growing up male in Montana didn’t lead to sharing.

John glanced at the sales report. The extra effort they were putting into e-mail marketing was paying off. Phone sales were up. Good. Maybe his little independent bookstore could stay in business in spite of the Amazon juggernaut.

Looking around the office for something else to do, John came up empty. He’d have to go down to the floor, or take the rest of the day off. He glanced toward the front of the store. Sun streamed through the plate glass window. He stood up and headed out of the office. His horse could use a ride in the Forest of Nisene Marks. So could he.

• • •

Slam! Punch! The sigh of escaping air.

Annie grabbed the dough from the bowl and tossed it on the counter. Damn him! Damn that kiss! Damn that professor in Montana!

“Finally find a good one,” she muttered. “And I have to move away. He has to stay here. Of course. That’s the way my life always works.”

Whack. The bread dough landed halfway off the counter. Pulling it back from the edge, Annie settled into the rhythm of kneading. Push. Fold. Push. Fold.

My life is full of problems. Problems caused by other people.

Okay, maybe stabbing Conrad in the foot wasn’t the smartest idea, but she was good at her job and that should be enough. She hated corporate politics. It was like a bunch of boys playing King of the Mountain. She wished she could leave it all behind.

Annie’s hands stopped kneading. Could she? Maybe she
could
find some temporary work. Job agencies were always looking for good project managers. If she didn’t have to worry about corporate politics, she could leave at the end of the day. It might leave her time to resurrect her singing career.

Another voice from the chorus chimed in. This one sounded suspiciously like her mother.
And lose your security? What would you do? Sing? That’s not a vocation — that’s an avocation. You can’t make money at it. It took you long enough to land a real job. You wouldn’t do well living in a car. And what about David?

David.

Annie sighed and went back to kneading. Time to put that nonsense out of her head. She’d have to slog on through. Her mother’s voice was right. She couldn’t depend on singing for a livelihood.

She couldn’t depend on a man for one, either.

• • •

Monday morning, Annie went to Silicon Valley for an outplacement meeting. As she drove up the mountain, Annie was captivated by the long fingers of ocean fog caressing the valleys. From the summit, the mountaintops looked like islands in a frothy soup. Spring had arrived on the coast — yet, not to her life.

Her foot automatically came off the gas as the taillights braked in front of her. Maybe the morning commute in New Jersey would be easier.

Currents of melody ran under words that flowed into her mind. Annie grabbed for the pad of paper that sat between the seats, and scribbled as the traffic stalled in front of her.

Summer changes, seasons befall

Water hewn mountains, life hewn souls.

When the traffic began flowing again, her muse departed, but the brief spark of creativity had given her soul a lift.

She was late when she got to the building for her required class. Mandatory classes to teach you how to lose your job. Great
.
Maybe the e-mail about the new job would come from Jim this week. Waiting to hear from other people about her life was getting old.

Hours later, she dug out the pad she’d brought from the car and surreptitiously put it in her lap. No longer able to feign interest in the instructor or the topic, she began to mull over the words she’d written.

One of the strangest aspects of her move to California all those years ago was the difference in seasons. Contrary to popular wisdom, there were seasons in the western state; they were just more subtle than those in Michigan. Small changes marked California seasons. It was the big changes, like nature’s earthquakes and forest fires that forced major rebirth in her adopted state.

Idly, she tapped her pen on the pad, checking out the instructor to make sure her vacant expression hadn’t been noticed. Two more lines emerged:

Fires roar, redwoods fall

My soul will change again.

Her words stared back at her. When she’d been faced with the reality of taking care of David and Fred’s lack of responsibility, she’d upended her life to do what had to be done. After the divorce, she’d felt as if she was stepping off a high wire into the unknown. JCN had been good to her financially. Her bosses had understood when she’d stayed home for David’s illness or left early for a soccer game. But now the corporation had turned its back on her. She was a cog in the machine, replaceable. Maybe it was time to try something different.

People in the room stirred and Annie glanced at her watch. Lunch break. Only a few more hours and she could escape to the coast.

But, she told herself, she should really be paying attention to this lecture. If she didn’t go to New Jersey, she needed to know her options.