The Hellion (22 page)

"Listen, Rachel, I acted like a damned idiot, tipping you over in the pool that way and carrying on like a Neanderthal. It'd be my own damn fault if you really meant it when you said you wanted to kill me."

"I do," she replied wistfully, suddenly feeling like crying. Then she added softly, "Sometimes."

Neither of them spoke for several electrified seconds, and she wondered again what his bedroom looked like, and if that's where he was, and if he'd been asleep when she called.

"You invited me to dinner on Friday night, but you didn't say which Friday. Am I too late to accept the invitation?"

His voice sounded forced and slightly breathless.

"Oh, Lord, do you mean it, Rachel?"

"If you still want me to come."

"Want you to come!" He laughed ruefully. "God, it's all I've thought about for weeks and weeks. This Friday?"

Something in the question sounded tentative. "Oh, are ... are you busy?"

"No ... no!" She relaxed her shoulders, not realizing how much she'd tightened up at the thought that he might have other plans. "And this time we will be chaperoned. That's a guarantee."

She wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or not.

"Your daughter?" she asked.

"No."

"But that was Beth with you at church, wasn't it?"

"Yes, things went sour between her and her mother, so she's living with me now."

Rachel's heart felt a surge of joy for him, but he went on quickly, "We'll talk more about it when I see you. Now, about Friday night--was

"But if it's not Beth who'll be chaperoning us, who is it?"

He chuckled and replied
            
261 indignantly, "A dragon named Georgine. I hired her to keep house for me. But I've been tempted at least three times a day to tell her to ride her broom back to where she came from."

"You hired a housekeeper?" Rachel's mouth fell open in surprise.

"That's right. Isn't that what you told me to do? One who could cook me low-calorie meals?"

"But I ..." She felt chagrined at having been so outspoken, then having her criticism acted upon so spontaneously. "Tommy Lee, I'm sorry too, for the things I said to you that day in the pool. I called you some terrible names and--was

"But you were right!" he interrupted. "There've been a lot of changes around here. You'll be surprised when you see them. And Georgine will be cooking for us Friday night."

She thought about his trimmer profile when she'd seen him at church, and about the message in the beer cans, and felt her heart lift with hope.

"What time shall I come out?"

"Rachel, I ..." She heard him pull in a deep breath and sensed a boyish hesitation that seemed totally out of character for a man with a reputation like

his. "Listen, I'd like to pick you up at your house, all proper this time." He chuckled nervously, then added, "I promise I won't dunk you or manhandle you or do anything that's not thoroughly polite. I'd be there at six-thirty."

She remembered the other time she'd opened the door to find him on her step, and what a shock it had been. What a thrilling shock. But to get dressed and wait for him as she had years ago ... Rachel closed her eyes for a second and felt a thrill of girlish anticipation at the thought.

"All right. Six-thirty."

"Six-thirty," he repeated.

Then a full ten seconds passed while neither of them said anything more.

Finally Rachel put in a wistful "Well ..."

He cleared his throat and repeated in a more businesslike voice, "Six-thirty."

She laughed nervously and reiterated for the fourth time, "Six-thirty. Well, good-bye, then."

"Bye, Rachel."

When Rachel hung up the phone her face

lit with an ear-to-ear smile; then she
   
263 clasped her hands on top of her head and spun in a circle.

When Tommy Lee hung up the phone he sat on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his shaky knees, covering his face with both hands. He sat for a long time with his pulse racing, listening to his breath beat against his palms. My God, she said yes! Incredible! She really said yes! Then Tommy Lee frowned at the floor.

No kissing, no touching, no cussing, Gentry, you hear? Show her you can be the gentleman she deserves.

He fell back, arms thrown wide, eyes closed, imagining. After ten minutes of pure bliss, he leapt to the floor and did thirty push-ups in record time--and all with a smile on his face.

            
CHAPTER NINE

  
It was a golden August evening with scarcely a wisp of breeze stirring. The week seemed to have crawled by with slothlike slowness while Rachel agonized over what to wear, what to say, how

to act. Just like that first date with Tommy Lee after he'd kissed her in the break of the boxwoods years ago.

It was strange to feel girlish at her age when she thought she'd given up giddiness years ago. But she actually had butterflies in her stomach, doubts about whether the gold earrings might have been better than the silver, and misgivings about the dress she'd chosen.

But it was too late to change now. The white Cadillac was already pulling up beneath the magnolia, and she drew back from the window, feeling pulses beating through her body in the places they had no business beating, as she watched Tommy Lee slowly get out of the car, then pause to look up at the house a moment before finally slamming the door. He buttoned his suit jacket, glanced down at his stomach, then unbuttoned the jacket and slipped a hand down his carefully knotted tie like a schoolboy at his first recital.

Rachel touched her lips, smiling. Why, he's as nervous as I am! Her smile grew wider. Imagine that, the Hellion of Franklin County getting all unstrung over walking to a

woman's door!
                    
265

She watched him come up the walk, assessing his new honed profile, and the hand dropped from her lips to her skittering heart. The bell rang. Her eyes closed for a moment while she savored the wild anticipation. Then she smoothed her skirt unnecessarily and moved to open the door.

And couldn't think of a single word to say.

They stared at each other with a breathless hush of appreciation, standing as still as the long shadows across the yard, feeling the awesome tug of nostalgia and the even greater one of reality. She had caught him smoothing his tie again, and his hand remained half hidden inside the suit jacket at waist level, unmoving now. At closer range she saw things she'd only glimpsed on the church steps. The puff of skin was gone from above his tight, crisp collar. The jowls had disappeared, leaving the skin about his jaws looking healthy and resilient. His eyes seemed clearer, the pockets of loose flesh gone from beneath them. And his coloring had changed from drinker's pink to runner's bronze.

After what seemed like aeons, he finally dropped his hand to his side and breathed "Hi."

"Hi," she managed, though the word seemed to stick in her throat and came out in a queer falsetto. Her eyes swept him from shoulders to toes and she blurted out, "You look wonderful!" Then she felt herself blush.

With a lift of his chin he laughed, and the sound relieved some of the tension. "Thank you, but I think you stole my line. You look"--his appreciative gaze scanned her, missing nothing--"absolutely perfect. Prettier than when you were sixteen."

"Well ..." She flapped her hands stupidly and stepped back. "Come in. I'll get my purse." Rachel Hollis, act your age! You're gawking and blushing like an adolescent in the throes of hormone change!

He watched her walk away--slim hips moving with scarcely a sway, narrow shoulders bare beneath delicate spaghetti straps that emphasized her fragility. Her shoes were very high heeled and backless and made a soft lapping sound against her heels as she went. Her muted blue floral-print dress was elasticized at the waist and just above her breasts, and there appeared to be nothing beneath it except her body. Tommy

Lee's bones seemed to turn to jelly
   
267 as he watched her bare shoulders disappear. She was, plainly and simply, the most desirable woman he'd ever known. How ever would he make it through the evening without touching her?

In no time at all she was back, holding a tiny white purse, a shawl caught in the crook of a wrist. Several feet before him she stopped, glanced up uncertainly, and gave a fluttery half-smile, then dropped her eyes to study the clasp of her purse as she toyed with it. "After being married all these years I'm afraid I'm out of practice in the art of dating. I feel inept and awkward."

He studied her for a moment, then a grin lifted one corner of his lips. "Awkward? You, Rachel?" He chuckled and moved toward the entry. "You haven't been awkward since you lost your baby fat at ... let's see, when was it? About thirteen?" He cocked his head as he opened the door. "Fourteen?"

She swept past him with mock imperiousness, scolding, "Thomas Gentry, I never had baby fat!"

He couldn't resist slipping a hand to her waist

as they moved toward the car. "Oh, yes, you did. I've got pictures to prove it."

"What pictures?" His hand sent shivers along her arms and raised the fine hairs of her spine, as did the sight of his car, freshly washed and waxed for the occasion. As he leaned forward to open the car door for her, she caught the scent of sandalwood and spice in his after-shave.

"I've got pictures of us as far back as when we used to go bathing together in a plastic pool. Remind me to show 'em to you sometime."

She knew which pictures he referred to and felt uncharacteristically ruffled and shy at the thought of the snapshots of their two plump, naked baby bodies side by side. But the subject was cut off as he slammed the door and rounded the hood of the car. She watched him pause to light a cigarette before getting in beside her, bringing the sharply pleasant tang of freshly lit tobacco with him.

The interior of the car was immaculate, and the man at its wheel the essence of companionability as they drove out to his place without once exceeding the speed limit. When they approached the spot where he'd flung out his plastic glass the last

time she was riding with him, she leaned forward
  
269 to peer around him at the woods and ditch. Then she gave him an impish grin.

"Mmm ... not tossing your glasses out into the weeds anymore?"

He only swung his eyes her way, gave a lazy smile, then carefully tamped out his cigarette, dropped the butt into the ashtray, and closed it. She noted each improvement in manners with an uplift of the heart.

"Do you know, you're the first man who ever gave me a bag of beer cans?"

"And you're the first woman who ever chewed me out and gave me a lecture on demon rum." They smiled at each other, remembering that night.

The car swayed through the curving woodsy drive, and when they pulled to a stop, he ordered, "Wait here," then got out with a bounding movement and appeared at her door to open it. They took the wooden ramp side by side, not touching, then he solicitously opened an ebony door to let Rachel precede him into the house. Music was playing softly, and a delicious aroma wafted through the air. He touched her elbow lightly and gestured toward the stairs leading up to the living

room, calling, "Georgine?"

In the next moment Rachel was standing in the spotless room and his new maid was rounding the corner from the kitchen.

"Rachel, this is Georgine, who's been given the task of keeping me from perdition. Georgine, this is Rachel Hollis, a girl I went to school with."

Georgine tipped a small bow. "I know Mrs. Hollis ... You run the dress store in town." Then she turned to Tommy Lee, informing him he'd had a call from someone named Bitsy who said she wanted him to call back. Finally, she asked, "Are you ready for your drinks now?"

"Drinks" proved to be a delicious concoction of pineapple juice and coconut cream, served in narrow stemmed glasses with fresh pineapple chunks and cherries on thin skewers. Rachel sipped hers, tasted no alcohol, and raised her eyebrows. "Mmm ... delicious." She wondered if his drink was plain or spiked, but didn't ask, only glanced around the living room to find the plants had been trimmed of drying leaves, washed, and sprayed with leaf polish. The

tables gleamed and the carpet hadn't one
     
271 dot of lint or ash on it. Under Georgine's care the lavish room had truly come to life.

"How about taking our drinks out on the deck?" he suggested, and pulled the door open, then followed her out. The sun was hovering an hour's ride above the western rim of the lake, sending a highway of shimmering gold straight at them across the water. Overhead a pair of gulls caught the sun on their wings and squawked their tuneless call. It was warm, peaceful, and private. Rachel rested her glass on the railing, then leaned her hips against it, squinting into the bright reflection. "This place is really beautiful."

She watched him find and light a cigarette. Odd how the simple motions held a new attraction for her as he tilted his jaw, flicked a thumb on the wheel of the lighter, and scowled through the cloud of smoke. He threw his head back, exhaling, turned abruptly, and caught her watching him intently.