Sunny Chandler's Return (11 page)

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Authors: Sandra Brown

Tags: #Fiction

BOOK: Sunny Chandler's Return
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Ty was the one who eventually broke the silence. “What color is your camisole? It’s so dark I can’t tell.”

“Pale pink.”

“Pink.” He repeated the word and smiled as though he found that delightful.

His stroking fingers were barely touching her, but Sunny was feeling the caress everywhere. Her body was purring like a well-tuned motor and was just as warm and ready to accelerate. She struggled to keep herself from moaning aloud and succeeded. But there was one response she couldn’t hide from him.

He unfastened another button on her blouse and gazed down at her. He smiled. “I haven’t even touched them. My voice alone did that.” He fanned his fingertips over the pointed crests of her breasts. “Hmm, nice.”

Desire was trilling through Sunny like the high notes from a flute. “We’re missing the movie.”

“We were the only ones watching it anyway. Everybody else is way ahead of us.”

“But they’re kids, and we’re adults.”

“Yeah, and you know what they say about consenting adults.”

He curved his hand around the back of her neck and drew her close for his kiss. Her lips were pliant beneath his. His ardor sparked hers, and the spontaneous combustion was explosive. Sunny melted against him, crooking her arm around his neck, loving the feel of his hair against the inside of her elbow.

Ty ducked his head and nuzzled her cleavage. “You put perfume here tonight.”

“Yes.”

“Wonderful.”

He kissed the upper swell of her breast. Sweetly. Sunny held her breath. She clasped his head tightly, burying her fingers in his thick hair, wanting to feel his warm, damp mouth on the raised center of her breast.

Instead he took it between his fingers, pinching it lightly, raising it even more, rubbing the very, very tip of it with the pad of his thumb.

“I want to kiss you right here.” Sunny moaned at his erotic words. “I bet the lace would feel scratchy against my tongue.” Her head fell back in a silent plea that he put action to words. “I want to make you wet.” Through her skirt, he squeezed a handful of her thigh.

Shocked but thrilled, Sunny stared into his face. Her hands were now on his shoulders. She felt the tremors chasing each other through his body. They matched her own. Speechlessly, she nodded.

Issuing a deep groan, Ty buried his face in the hollow of her throat. “I’m so hard I hurt. I’ve been hard since the first time I saw you eating that chocolate-covered strawberry.”

With a sudden movement that bordered on being ferocious, he raised his head again and cupped her face between his palms. Alternating his thumbs, he rubbed them across her dewy lips. “Your mouth is delectable. I was fascinated by it when I saw your lips closing around that strawberry. And I wanted you to be ...” He shook his head as though to clear it and laughed dryly. “What I wanted you to do, I would have to arrest you for. It’s still illegal around here.” Her stunned expression won a naughty grin from him. “For now we’ll put that marvelous mouth to use doing something else.”

He lowered his head to kiss her again. But they were interrupted.

“Sheriff Beaumont? Uh, Sheriff? ’Xcuse me, sir.”

Ty whipped his head around toward the driver’s window, where someone was pecking on the glass. The man flinched and backed away from Ty’s fierce, Viking glare.

“I, uh, I hate to bother you like this, Sheriff.”

“I’m off duty, Wade.”

“I know that, sir, and I hate like hell to bother you, what with your lady and all ...” He dipped his head so he could see Sunny. “A thousand pardons, ma’am.”

Sunny, who had hastily and clumsily rebuttoned her blouse, was grateful that the darkness hid her tousled hair, her flaming cheeks, and her wrinkled skirt.

“What do you need, Wade?”

“Well, sir, it’s sorta an emergency, I guess. If it wasn’t, swear to God, I wouldn’t bother you.”

“Get to the point,” Ty barked in a harsh, businesslike manner.

“It’s Sally, Sheriff. She, uh, well, she ...”

“What?”

“She’s in labor.”

“Labor!
” Ty and Sunny chorused.

“Uh-huh, sir. When I got in from work she told me that she’d been feelin’ poorly all day. I figured a picture show might perk her up some. So we—”

Ty was already in motion. He reached beneath his seat and produced a magnetized, battery-operated, rotating red light, which he set on the roof of his car. Reaching around Wade, he replaced the drive-in’s speaker on its post and said to the young man, “Meet me at the exit gate. I’ll escort you to the hospital.”

“I sure would be obliged. Sorry again for—”

“Get moving!” Ty bellowed.

Wade tipped his bill cap and loped off. Ty, muttering curses, started his car and drove it to the exit. His impatience was hilarious. Sunny held back her laughter as long as she could. He glowered at her when he heard the first giggle.

“That hick. Doesn’t even know when his wife is in labor,” he mumbled.

“Isn’t he one of the Florys?”

“Yeah.”

“Intelligence has never been that family’s strong suit,” Sunny said, laughing in earnest now.

“I think they’ve married their cousins too many times. Hang on. Here they come.” A dilapidated pickup rumbled up behind the Datsun. “Hope that damn thing can make it to the hospital.”

Ty roared out onto the highway, red light flashing. He had had a siren built into the Datsun just for emergencies like this. He turned it on now and the sound nearly blasted Sunny out of the car. The wind whipped her hair around her face, and she was still laughing so hard that tears filled her eyes.

Every now and then she glanced over her shoulder. Miraculously the pickup stayed right behind them. Traffic moved aside as they sped past.

But by the time they reached the hospital and braked outside the emergency room entrance, the pickup was wheezing. White smoke billowed from beneath the hood.

Ty shoved open his door and got out. He ran toward the passenger side of the pickup, jerked open the door, and assisted the heavily expectant mother out. Her husband didn’t seem to be at all in the rush that Ty was. Wade got out of the pickup’s cab and ambled around the hood, scratching his head as it belched smoke.

“What do you reckon’s wrong with my truck?”

Ty shouted, “Get your wife inside before she has her baby out here on the asphalt! I’ll take care of the damn truck.”

His drill sergeant’s command galvanized Wade into action. He escorted his wife through the wide glass doors. “Thanks, Sheriff,” he called back just as the doors closed behind them.

Ty climbed into the steaming pickup and backed it into a parking space. He then rejoined Sunny in the Datsun. “I just left the keys in the ignition. Who’d want to steal it?”

He replaced the portable police light beneath the car seat and made certain the siren was switched off before he engaged the gears and drove out of the hospital’s parking lot.

“Well,” Sunny said with an impish smile, “that was certainly exciting!”

Ty scowled at her. Then the absurdity of the episode struck him, and his mouth fashioned a wide grin. Soon the car was filled with their laughter.

“I wanted to murder him for interrupting—”

“I thought he’d never get to the point and—”

“Then when he told me—”

“I couldn’t believe he hem-hawed around like that!”

Ty wiped mirthful tears from the corners of his eyes. “God, I’m starving. The excitement made me hungry. How about you?”

Without waiting for her consent, he pulled into the Busy Bee Café on Main Street, which was the only restaurant in town that stayed open late. “I haven’t been here in years,” Sunny remarked as he held the door open for her.

“I’m sure it hasn’t changed. It’s probably been that long since they’ve swept the floor.”

Indeed, the café hadn’t changed, Sunny observed as they went in. The acrid smell of overused frying grease was pungently familiar. The waitress she remembered from her youth was still on duty. She recognized Sunny instantly. “Hiya, Sunny. Welcome back. Gee, you’re lookin’ great.”

“Thank you. How are you?”

“Same as ever. Old and ugly.”

Sunny slid into the maroon vinyl booth Ty indicated and picked a menu out of the metal rack on the table while Ty gave the waitress their order for two coffees. “Is that all right?”

“Perfect,” Sunny said.

“I didn’t even think to ask if you’d rather go back to the drive-in.”

She shook her head. “I’ve had enough gore to last me for a while.”

“Speaking of gore, dust off the menu and let me know what you want to eat.”

When the waitress brought their coffee, they both ordered a steak sandwich. “She seemed to know just how you like it,” Sunny said as the waitress moved away. “You must come here often.”

“On slow nights, yes.”

“When you haven’t been invited out.”

“When I haven’t been invited
in
.”

Recalling their conversation about his sex life earlier in the evening, Sunny wanted to appear vexed, but found that his smile was too disarming to resist. She returned it.

The lettuce in their unimaginative salads wasn’t too limp and was redeemed by the thick, creamy, homemade dressing. The sandwiches were garnished with fresh garden tomatoes. The breading on the batter-dipped and fried cutlet was golden brown and crunchy.

“Dessert?” Ty asked, as Sunny moved her empty plate aside.

“No, thank you.”

She did, however, let the waitress refill her mug with hot, fragrant coffee. As soon as she cleared their dishes away, the waitress went back to watch the television set on the counter.
The Tonight Show
was on, and the cook joined her in watching it. Ty and Sunny were the only diners in the café.

She sat staring into her steaming coffee, running her finger idly around the chipped rim of the mug.

“Where do you think we’d be if Wade Flory hadn’t interrupted us?” Ty asked.

She lifted her head quickly, but when her gaze clashed with his, she lowered it again. He didn’t seem to know the meaning of the word subtle. He never led up to anything gradually but pounded home his point with the force of a pile driver. She was never prepared for his brazen statements and outrageous questions. She stalled in giving him an answer now. “What do you mean?”

“You know damn good and well what I mean. What would our hot and heavy necking have led to?”

“How should I know?”

He leaned across the table and whispered confidentially. “You know, Sunny. We’d be in bed.”

Knowing that he was probably right only made her angrier. “Is that all you ever think about?”

“Not all of the time,” he said evenly, “but lately, yes. I’ve got a wager riding on this, remember?”

She blew out a deep breath of exasperation. “If you’ll leave me alone, I’ll buy you a case of whiskey myself.”

Wrinkling his brow, he pretended to seriously consider her offer, then shook his head. “No, it just wouldn’t be the same. No challenge involved. And I’d have to buy George a new fly-casting rod.”

“George! I could strangle him. He used to be so nice. I can’t believe he would be involved in—” Her eyes became slits of suspicion. “Or did you just make this up?”

His smile was noncommittal.

“Did you?” she hissed across the table. “There really is no bet! That’s only a new approach your sick mind invented, isn’t it?”

Again, all she got by way of answer was a sly smile.

She scooted to the edge of the booth. “Take me home.”

His eyes moved down her body. “Gladly.”

“And when I get there, I’m going in alone.”

“Sunny, Sunny,” he said in a wheedling way, “no more petting tonight?”

“No.”

“That’s not fair. I hadn’t even gotten my hand up your skirt yet. I’ll bet half the guys at the drive-in had at least gotten that far.”

He was pouting so adorably that she laughed, her anger of a moment ago being dissolved by his charm. “You’re incorrigible.”

The bell over the entry to the café jangled when the door was opened. Sunny glanced in that direction. At that instant, her smile collapsed and her peachy complexion paled to the color of cold ashes.

The man who came in looked around. His gaze fell on her. He appeared to be as shocked at seeing her as she was at seeing him.

Ty, instantly aware of the change in Sunny, turned around. Don Jenkins was walking toward them.

“Hello, Sunny.”

“Hello, Don.”

Sunny thought that her heart was going to claw its way out of her chest. She knew, in the most literal sense, what heartache felt like. But she had to put on a brave and blasé front. The smile she painted on was too bright and too wide to be genuine, but she hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“You look great,” Don said.

“Thanks. So do you.”

Actually he didn’t. He looked haggard. Thin and stoop-shouldered. Fran’s words about a marriage on the rocks came back to her, and Sunny took a perverse pleasure in the evident signs of his stress and unhappiness.

But his face was so poignantly familiar that it was difficult for her to pinpoint what was different about him and easy to savor all that was familiar, from the way he parted his hair to the habitual way he slipped his hands into his trouser pockets.

“Evening, Ty,” Don said, remembering his manners. He glanced down at the sheriff, who smiled at him blandly.

“Don.”

Don addressed Sunny again. “I guess you’re in town for Fran’s wedding.”

The obvious reply was heard by all, but spoken by none. It was a wedding that had caused her to leave and a wedding that had brought her back.

“I’m so happy for her. Steve seems like a wonderful person,” she said enthusiastically.

“Yeah, he’s a great guy.” Don shifted his weight from one foot to another. “How are things going for you in New Orleans?”

Sunny didn’t have to ask how he knew where she was living. Gossip had surely leaked back to him. “Oh, I absolutely love it. I have an apartment off St. Charles near Tulane.”

Impressed, he raised his eyebrows. “Nice neighborhood.”

“I adore it. It’s so exciting in the city. There’s always something going on.”

“Around Mardi Gras time, I saw your picture in the paper with one of the float costumes you had designed.”

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