Donovan’s Angel (22 page)

The screeching of tires on the gravel
driveway caught Martie’s attention. She looked out the window and
smiled. Miss Beulah, dressed to the hilt in a straining
pink-and-blue-striped leotard, squeezed out of her aging Cadillac,
bearing gifts in both arms. As she ambled up the walk, the stripes
on her leotard undulated like Old Glory in a brisk breeze.

“Yoo-hoo!” she called through the screen
door. Without waiting for an answer, she barreled into the parlor,
talking with every breath. “Now don’t get up, Martie. In your
condition you need to rest. Put your feet up on that ottoman. They
look a little puffy. The Reverend would have a conniption fit if
anything happened to you.”

She stopped talking long enough to plop down
onto the sofa, not even lifting an eyebrow at the Christmas
decorations. Everybody in Faith Church now looked on the antics of
the preacher’s wife with fond tolerance.

“Whew! It’s hot enough to fry an egg out
there. I said to Essie Mae the other day. . .” She clapped a fat
hand over her mouth. “Saints preserve us! Listen to me running on
like that. I’m such a chatterbox I plumb forgot about the baby
gifts.”

Martie took the proffered gifts and untied
the ribbons. A pink stuffed elephant poked its snout up from one
box, and a plush monkey smiled up from the other.

“Thank you, Miss Beulah,” Martie said
enthusiastically. “These are adorable!”

“The elephant is the way I look now, and the
monkey is the way I’m going to look if I can get page eighty-six of
your Jazzercise book down pat. Just how did you get your legs to do
that?”

Miss Beulah stayed for a glass of lemonade
and even helped Martie finish hanging the Christmas bells. After
she left, Martie thought how good it felt to count Miss Beulah as
one of her friends. She put the lemonade glasses into the
dishwasher and was still smiling when her husband came through the
door.

Joy welled up inside him and spilled over as
he swept his wife off her feet and gave her a thorough and proper
greeting. “Ummm,” he said. “You taste good. What is that
flavor?”

“Pink lemonade.” She rubbed her cheek against
his. “I have a surprise for you, Paul. Take me into the
parlor.”

“Both of you?” he quipped. “You’re getting a
mite heavy, angel.”

“It’s all your fault, Reverend Donovan.”

He stopped when he saw the decorations, and a
huge grin lit his face. Life with Martie would always be a
celebration. “Christmas in July?”

“Do you like it?”

“I adore it.” He bent his head and kissed her
again. “And I adore you.”

“Paul,” she said after a long while, “I’ve
always wanted to have a baby during the Christmas season.”

“With lots of practice, I think we can make
it next time.” He left the parlor, passed through the kitchen long
enough to lock the door, and strolled down the hall.

Martie observed the entire proceedings from
her vantage point in his arms. “Where are we going?” she asked
unnecessarily.

“To practice.”

Behind them the ceiling fan stirred the
branches of the cedar tree and set the mirrored ornaments to
tinkling in joyful celebration.

-o0o-

Excerpt from SLEEPLESS
NIGHTS

Peggy Webb

The Donovans of the Delta – Book 2

“Tanner Donovan looks every bit as handsome
as he did when he was quarterback at Greenville High. Maybe
better.”

Amanda Lassiter felt an odd breathlessness at
the mention of his name. She must be crazy. Eleven years was time
enough to forget anything, even a man as sinfully delicious as
Tanner.

She made herself hang the antique petticoat
carefully, before turning around to answer her assistant and
longtime friend.

“No doubt he’ll set the hometown girls
aflutter, Maxine. His wealth and fame are exceeded only by his
reputation.” She hoped her voice conveyed exactly the right blend
of nonchalance and disinterest.

“You’ve kept up?”

“No. I’ve read the papers, like everybody
else.” Amanda sat down at her desk.

Maxine arched her eyebrows and tapped the
newspaper with one long red fingernail. “How long has it been since
you’ve seen him?”

“Not since the wedding,”

Maxine didn’t have to ask which wedding
Amanda meant. Folks had talked about it for five years afterward.
Some of them were still talking.

“I’ll never forget the way Tanner Donovan
looked when you walked down that aisle with his best friend.”

Neither would Amanda, but she certainly
didn’t want to dredge up the past.

“It’s ancient history.”

“Not as ancient as you might think. Just last
week I overheard a group of young men at Doe’s Restaurant talking
about the way Tanner stormed down that aisle and lifted you in his
arms when the preacher asked if anyone knew any reason why you and
Claude shouldn’t be joined in marriage. They even quoted exactly
what he said, ‘I know because she’s still in love with me.’ That
story is legend around here. The local kids love it.”

Amanda’s knuckles turned white as she
clutched the edge of her desk. She closed her eyes as the memory
washed over her. Tanner, sweeping her into his arms, challenging
her with fierce quicksilver eyes to deny his words; and Claude,
standing loyally by, as he always had; Claude, representing
stability and children and a home; Claude, loving her, always
loving her. She’d loved him too—but it hadn’t been enough. The
memory of Tanner was always there between them.

Looking back now, it amazed her that they’d
stayed married for six years. She’d wondered a hundred times since
that fateful day what her life would have been like if she’d kept
quiet, if she’d let Tanner abduct her.

“You’re bound to hear all sorts of things if
you eavesdrop,” she said now.

Maxine chuckled. “If I didn’t eavesdrop, what
would we talk about at bridge club? Besides, that’s all I have to
do since I’m temporarily between husbands.” She looked down at the
photograph of Tanner Donovan. “That man’s enough to set the old
motor revving. While he’s home for the holidays I might take a
crack at him myself. That is, if you don’t have plans for him.”

“I moved back to Greenville to open a
business, not to try to renew an old romance. What happened between
Tanner and me is over and done with.” Amanda hoped her smile was
convincing. “You have my blessing. Not that you need it, of
course.”

“Maybe you’d better look at this before you
dismiss him.” She plopped the newspaper on Amanda’s desk. “I’m
already in overdrive from looking at his picture.”

Amanda pushed the newspaper aside without
glancing at it and smiled at her irrepressible friend. Maxine had
breezed in and out of divorce court so often—four times at the last
count—that the judge had declared his intentions of putting in a
revolving door just for her. However, her apparent unsuitability
for the bonds of matrimony didn’t keep her from the hunt. She
stalked men with lusty good cheer, and it appeared she’d chosen
Tanner Donovan as her latest quarry.

Amanda was surprised that the idea caused her
a little twinge of regret.

“Do you think you can gear down long enough
to help me move this case of jewelry before we close up? With
Christmas coming, people will be looking for gifts, and these
antique brooches will be perfect.”

For the next twenty minutes they worked
together taking out the brooches, moving the small case closer to
the front of the shop, and rearranging the jewelry. After the shop
door swished shut behind Maxine, Amanda locked up and returned to
her desk.

Picking up the newspaper, she stared down at
the front-page spread on Tanner Donovan. The man’s dazzling charm,
which she remembered so well, was not diminished by the
black-and-white photograph.

Her eyes scanned the column.
“
Greenville’s most famous native son, Tanner Donovan,
businessman-philanthropist, will be on hand for Saturday night’s
American Diabetes Association charity benefit. Mr. Donovan, former
outstanding quarterback for the Texas Titans, has contributed
$100,000 to this worthwhile charity. His longtime interest in
diabetes
. . .”

Amanda stopped reading and sat staring into
space. Unconsciously she caressed the photograph.

“Where did we go wrong, Tanner?”

The sound of her own words startled her into
action. Picking up her bag and her hat, she started for the back
door. Her little blue Honda Civic was parked behind her shop. She
tilted her hat at a cocky angle, climbed behind the wheel, and
headed toward her favorite coffee shop on the river. She’d be
darned if she was going to sit around wallowing in self-pity,
guilt, and old memories.

o0o

From his first glance of the river, Tanner
was glad he’d decided to drive from Dallas instead of taking his
private jet. He pressed a button to lower his windows so he could
sniff the air. Home. There was no place like it. Never slackening
his speed, he took in everything—the rich, black land stretching
out flat as far as the eye could see, sliced through and nourished
by the muddy waters of the Mississippi; the massive oaks, drab with
their brown winter leaves but no less magnificent; the whitewashed
fences, dividing the Delta into neat, clean sections, signifying
that man had conquered and tamed at least part of the land.

Tanner laughed aloud with the sheer delight
of being alive. Being home always made him feel this way. No matter
how many years he’d lived in Dallas, he still thought of Greenville
as home.

He shot his car across the bridge, the red
Corvette picking up speed as he whipped in and out of the Friday
afternoon traffic with the ease that comes from practice. Just
across the bridge he spotted the café, Jimmy’s. His stomach turned
over. Whether it was from hunger or memories, he didn’t know. Nor
did he bother to question it; he simply followed his instinct.

He glided the red Corvette smoothly off the
road and brought it to a stop in the gravel parking lot in front of
the one-room, clapboard café. Tanner removed his cashmere jacket
the minute he stepped outside. It was hot—too hot for December, he
thought.

As he tossed his jacket back onto the front
seat of his car, he saw the woman. She had the kind of legs men
dream about, and the kind of walk that could start revolutions.
Tanner lounged against his car, enjoying one of his favorite
pastimes, girl watching. Even from the back he could tell that she
was beautiful. Anything less than perfection of face would be a
sacrilege on that body. He let his eyes move up to her waist. It
was tiny, nipped in by a wide leather belt.

He stiffened as she took off her felt fedora
and shook out her hair. In the late afternoon sun the tresses
blazed with dazzling copper highlights. He remembered only one
woman who had hair like that—Amanda Lassiter. As far as he knew,
she was still living in Missouri. And he hoped to hell she stayed
there.

He pocketed his keys and headed toward the
café.

People stopped talking when Tanner walked
through the door. He was big and handsome, if you could believe the
women he dated, and he exuded the kind of power generated by a
storm rolling off the river. Standing inside the door, he let his
gaze roam, taking in the silver plastic bells hanging over the cash
register, the glass case of coconut cream pies, and the crowded
wooden booths.

She was at the back of the room, sitting
beside the window that overlooked the river, her head bent over a
menu. Amanda Lassiter.

For a moment he went a little crazy inside.
He wanted to march across the room, jerk her into his arms, and
throw her into the river. Hard on the heels of that thought came
another even more disturbing one. He wanted to gather her close to
him and kiss her until they were both breathless. He wanted to
strip the clothes from her body and kiss every inch of that
perfection—just as he had so many years ago.

Forcing himself to steady his breathing, he
started across the room. She looked up and their gazes clashed. He
saw her catch her breath. Her reaction pleased him. He didn’t know
why but it did. He saw her hands tighten on the menu, but she never
looked away. Her glorious aqua eyes focused, sure and steady, on
his as he walked to her booth.

He didn’t stop until he was standing over
her, so close that he could smell her scent. Jasmine. Sweet and
sultry. Exactly the way he remembered.

“See anything you like?” he asked.

“Why? Are you selling something?”

She was still the same spirited Amanda. He
was glad. “No, I’m giving it away.”

“Pity. You could have been rich.”

“I am.” He slid into the opposite side of her
booth. “Mind if I join you?”

“Would it make any difference if I said
no?”

“No.” He reached across the table and took
her left hand. The cool touch of her slim ivory fingers almost made
him forget what she’d done to him. “I see you’ve taken off the
ring.”

She lifted quizzical brows but said
nothing.

“My parents keep me informed.” He let her
hand drop. “They seem to think I’m still interested in the doings
of my two former best friends.”

“Are you?”

He took a certain malicious pleasure in
thinking that he was the cause of the breathless catch he heard in
her voice.

“No. Simple idle curiosity.” He hoped he’d
lied with a straight face. He flipped open a menu. “Are you having
the hot chocolate?”

“Yes, with marshmallows.”

It was the first time she’d smiled since he’d
walked through the door. Amber lights lit briefly in the center of
her aqua eyes, then faded as quickly as they had come. It was the
first time he’d seen that smile in eleven years.

Tender feelings tried to blossom in his soul,
but he quickly squashed them.

“Claude never liked marshmallows. I would
have thought you’d have picked up new habits living with him. Six
years, wasn’t it?”