Sleeping Beauty (14 page)

Well, she'd known this was coming, Anne reminded herself as she stirred sugar into her coffee. You couldn't keep secrets in a town the size of Loving. If her mother hadn't made it such a point to remain aloof from the community for the last thirty-odd years, it wouldn't have taken four days for her to get the news. Anne decided to look on the bright side and view the delay as a breathing space. Maybe it was that breathing space that gave her the courage to take the control out of her mother's hands.

"So I suppose Betty told you that I had lunch with a man none of them could identify," she said casually and had the rare satisfaction of seeing her mother thrown off balance.

It was only momentary, but the unexpected admission, as well as the hint of steel in her daughter's usually soft gray eyes, made Olivia decide to take a different tack than she'd originally planned. Anne was generally quite willing to do whatever it took to keep the peace but she did sometimes show an odd stubborn streak—such as when she'd decided to move into this absurd cottage.

"Actually, by the time Betty told me about your lunch, she was able to tell me quite a bit about your companion." Olivia said lightly. "A Neill Devlin, I think it was. A writer, apparently, whose motorcycle broke down somewhere outside of town? I assume this is the gentleman you met at David Freeman's garage last week?"

"Yes!" Anne's response was wary. She knew her mother too well to take this easy acceptance at face value. A week ago the idea that her daughter had so much as spoken to a stranger had been enough to send her into near hysterics. Now she brought it up as if there was nothing unusual about it at all. "I've seen him a couple of times," Anne admitted, feeling as if they might as well have everything out in the open.

"Have you?" Olivia kept her smile in place, but her fingers tightened on the delicate little cup. She hadn't known that, and the new knowledge confirmed what her instincts had told her, which was that this man was a danger that needed to be dealt with as quickly as possible.

"He's taking me to the movie tonight." Anne tilted her chin and met her mother's eyes. "I like him."

"Yes." Anne couldn't prevent the color from creeping into her face. "He's very attractive."

Olivia nodded and lowered her gaze to her cup, while she debated on the right approach. She allowed her voice and expression to soften, become more vulnerable. "I know I...overreacted last week when you mentioned him. I suppose it seems silly to you. After all, it's been fif—fifteen years." There was a subtle hitch in the words. "That's a lifetime to someone your age, but I've never been able to forget what happened."

"None of us have." Anne reached out to touch her mother's arm. "I haven't forgotten."

"Then maybe you can understand why I worry so much about you."

"I—of course I do." Anne stumbled over the agreement, not quite able to forget her mother's matchless ability to manipulate those around her to get what she wanted. Or what she'd decided they should want

If Olivia heard her hesitation, she chose to ignore it. "I was wondering if perhaps your...Mr. Devlin would like to come to dinner tomorrow night." she suggested. She read the shocked surprise in Anne's face and continued quickly. "I know I'm being overprotective, but I'd feel much better if I—if we—met this man you're seeing."

"I don't know that I'm actually seeing' him," Anne protested. "For all I know, he may be leaving for...wherever tomorrow. He's only here until David can get parts for his bike."

Well, if he's already left, then we won't either of us have anything to worry about, will we?" Olivia said, smiling a little. "But if he's still here, I'd very much like it if you'd bring him to dinner." Her mouth tilted self-deprecatingly. "rd feel much better if I had a chance to meet him."

"I...will ask him," Anne said, trying to conceal her reluctance. She didn't want to bring Neill to dinner tomorrow night. The time she'd spent with him had been something apart from her real life. To him, she was just Anne Moore, who worked in a bank and drove a car named Lucy. He didn't know anything beyond what she chose to tell him. When he looked at her, he didn't see dark tragedy and loss. He just saw.. .her. She hadn't realized until now how much that meant to her.

But she couldn't refuse her mother's request. Because, no matter what, Olivia's loss was real. Maybe she was using it to manipulate, but that didn't make the worry any less valid.

"I'll ask him to dinner," Anne repeated, forcing a half smile.

"Thank you." Olivia's smile was warm.

And why shouldn't it be? Anne thought ruefully as she saw her mother out the door. She'd just gotten exactly what she wanted—as usual.

She bent to pick up the vacuum cleaner cord that she'd dropped when her mother arrived. Plugging it into the wall socket, she wondered what Neill was going to think of the invitation she'd promised to deliver.

"The man took male chauvinist piggery to new heights," Anne said firmly. ''Or depths."

"I don't think male chauvinist pigs existed in the nineteenth century," Neill argued, frowning. "I don't think the species appeared until sometime in the sixties. Besides, you've got to give a man credit for strong family feeling. He could have just ignored his brothers' emotional pain, but instead, he took action and did what he could to alleviate their suffering. When you think about it, he was really a man ahead of his time—sensitive and caring."

Anne stopped dead on the sidewalk and turned to look at him. ''Kidnapping six tenified girls and deliberately stranding them in the mountains with a bunch of illiterate, uncouth louts was sensitive and caring?"

"Okay, so maybe he was a little...impetuous." Neill conceded. Another couple walked past, eyeing them curiously. "But those illiterate, uncouth louts were his brothers, and it was his deep concern for their happiness that led him astray."

"Led him astray?" Anne choked on a gurgle of laughter. ''Next you'll be telling me that he was really the innocent party in the whole movie."

"Well..." Neill stretched the word out consideringly. "I don't know that I'd go quite that far, but I do think there was a certain...nobility of spirit about his actions that—" He broke off when Anne laughed. It was such a young, happy sound that it made it difficult for him to hold on to his serious expression. "I thought we were having a deep, intellectual discussion about the social relevance of the film we just saw."

"I bet it's the first time anyone's tried to find social relevance in Seven Brides for Seven Brothers."

He arched his eyebrows and looked down his nose at her. "Then it's past time someone recognized its true value. For example, how can you fail to miss the deeply layered meaning in lyrics like, 'I'mm a lonesome polecat'?''

"Or the profound melancholy underlying the surface of a song like 'Bless Your Beautiful Hide'?"

"I'm not too sure about that one," Neill said, frowning thoughtfully. "I think that may be nothing more than a demonstration of complete male chauvinist piggery."

Their laughter drew several glances and a few sympathetic smiles. Most of the week, the sidewalks in Loving were pretty well rolled up by nine o'clock. Other than the restaurants and a couple of bars, the businesses closed up shop. Saturday nights were different. Saturday was date night or take the family out for a hamburger night and, every other week, catch a movie night. When the movie ended, the small crowd left the shabby theater and, on a warm summer night, took their time heading home.

They passed an elderly couple walking slowly, matching shuffling step to shuffling step and holding hands like your lovers. Up ahead was a young couple, a child between them who picked up his feet and swung on his parents' hands every few feet.

"Mayberry," Neill muttered, and then was surprised that he'd spoken the thought out loud. He caught Anne's questioning look and shrugged. "This town. It makes me feel like I just fell into a movie set. I keep expecting Barney Fife to come swaggering down the street or Aunt Bea to toddle out of the beauty parlor."

Anne looked around, trying to see the scene through his eyes. To her, it was simply the town where she'd grown up. She knew it was small and rural, even out of date, but she'd never really given it much thought. It simply was what it was.

"Does it bother you?" she asked curiously.

"No. It makes a nice change." Neill reached out to take her hand, linking his fingers with hers, and Anne felt her heart bump with pleasure at the casual intimacy. "It's certainly got its advantages. People smile at you. You don't have to worry about finding a parking place, and the crime rate is probably too low to measure."

Anne shivered despite the warmth of the night air. "It's not paradise," she murmured. "Crime isn't limited to big cities."

"No, but it doesn't measure into the triple digits in a place like this." He saw her face as they stepped beneath a streetlamp, and his fingers tightened over hers. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Anne smiled with an effort, deliberately closing the door on the memories that tried to slip through. She glanced up at him, her smile taking on an edge of mischief. "I was just thinking that I never did pay my share of lunch that first day. How about if I buy you an ice cream sundae to make us even?"

"I wouldn't mind an ice cream sundae." His voice slowed to a drawl. "But I have to tell you that I think your first offer was more than adequate compensation."

She gave him a questioning look, saw the warmth in his eyes and realized he was talking about the kiss they'd shared that first night when she'd come to his motel room. Color warmed her cheeks, and she looked away, half afraid of what he might see in her eyes. Wholly afraid of the emotion fluttering in her chest.

A movie, ice cream sundaes and walking a girl to her car on a warm summer's night. Neill tried to remember the last time he'd spent such an innocent, enjoyable and sexually frustrating evening and decided it had to have been when he was in high school.

They'd laughed over the movie, then sat talking over a pair of ice cream sundaes until Luanne's owner announced that it was closing time and shooed the last of her customers out the door. And all the time, under the laughter and the conversation, he was aware of a low hum of awareness, a hunger. A need. She felt it, too. He caught glimpses of it in her eyes, those clear gray eyes that did such a poor job of hiding her thoughts. He could feel it in the little jolt that went through her when he took her hand or reached out to brush her hair back from her face.

Because he was a man, he couldn't help but wonder if he could talk her into coming back to his motel room. He thought the odds were pretty good. But because he wanted something more from her than a quick roll in the sack, he'd made up his mind not to try. He wasn't sure just what that something more might be, and that scared him a little. It also made it easier to rein in his baser instincts. Until he understood what he was feeling, he didn't want to rush into anything.

"I had a lovely time tonight." They'd reached her car, parked in front of Lisa's tiny shop. Stopping by the driver's door, she turned to look up at him. "Thank you, Neill."

"My pleasure." She was so pretty standing there in her tidy blue and white striped shirt and trim jeans, her hair caught back from her face with a pair of simple gold clips, thanking him as politely as a little girl after a birthday party.

Her eyes widened a little when he stepped close and braced one hand on the roof of her silly little car. Her breath caught raggedly, and her eyes widened on his.
What was it about her
? Neill wondered half-angrily. She wasn't at all his type. He liked long, leggy brunettes with eyes that said they knew a lot about the way the world worked. Not women like this curvy little blonde with innocent gray eyes and, God help him, the most kissable mouth he'd ever seen in his life.

Anne's breath sighed out as his mouth closed over hers. This was what she'd been wanting all night. No, if she were honest, she had to admit that she'd been thinking about this since he'd kissed her in the park two days ago. She'd half convinced herself that she'd dreamed it—the way the world dipped and swirled and filled with light and color. The way her blood seemed to thicken even as her pulse rocketed.

The keys she'd taken from her purse dropped to the pavement as she clutched at Neill's arms for balance, feeling the ripple of muscle and sinew as he pulled her closer, shifting the angle of the kiss to deepen it. His mouth opened over hers, tasting her shivering response.

With an effort, Neill dragged his mouth away from Anne's. Staring down at her, he tried to figure out what it was about this woman that tried his self-control like no one else had. One kiss—in public again, dammit—and he was rock hard and ready to pull her into some dark alley and take her. And she just might let him, he thought, seeing the stunned arousal in her eyes. She was quivering under his hands, and his fingers tightened on her shoulders for an instant before he released her and took a cautious step back.

Goddamn scruples and common sense, he thought savagely. Bending, he scooped her keys up off the pavement.

"You'd better go," he said, pressing them into her hand.

"Y-yes."She stared down at the keys for a moment as if she wasn't quite sure of their purpose. After a moment's fumbling, she managed to sort out the right key and open the car door. Neill shoved his hands in his pockets and stood watching her, his expression brooding. Before sliding into the seat, she turned and looked at him, her eyes wide and uncertain, her teeth tugging nervously at her lower lip. "Do you... can I give you a ride back to the motel?''