Welcome to Temptation: A Romantic Comedy (14 page)

Fiona nodded. “You’re probably in a hurry to get back.”

Michelle nodded. “My job is very important to me,” she said.

“Everyone needs something meaningful in their life,” Fiona replied. “I don’t know what I’d do without my flowers and my church work.” She paused. “But I think a family is important too, don’t you?”

Michelle thought it an odd question. “If you meet the right person,” she said. “Unfortunately, I haven’t had much luck in that area.” She wondered, even as she said it, why it was so easy to talk to Fiona.

“Maybe you aren’t looking hard enough.”

Michelle laughed at the serious expression on Fiona’s face. “I’m not advertising at online dating services, if that’s what you mean. But most men, wherever you meet them, don’t seem to have a sincere interest in marriage and family these days.”

Fiona smiled and plucked a perfect rosebud that had miraculously survived the storm. She handed it to Michelle. “Men are a lot like roses, dear. They each have their share of thorns that make it tough to get close to them. And their hearts are just as delicate and fragile as a rose petal, believe it or not. But with the right amount of love and nurturing and understanding, they too can blossom into something wonderful.”

Michelle gazed at the rose thoughtfully. “What a lovely comparison, Fiona. You should write poetry.”

The woman laughed and waved the statement aside. “You look tired, dear,” she said to Michelle after a while. “Why don’t you rest now?”

It sounded like a great idea to Michelle. “I think I’ll lie on that chaise lounge in the shade,” she said. “Unless there’s something else I can do to help you.”

“Go ahead,” Fiona said, shooing her in that direction. “You’ve done enough work.”

Michelle pulled off her work gloves and handed them to Fiona. Still clutching the rose bud between her fingers, she crossed the backyard to the lounge chair that sat beneath a giant oak. She adjusted the back into a reclining position and lay down, crossing her long legs at the ankles.

So peaceful, she thought, hearing the screen door close behind Fiona as the woman went back into the house. A breeze rustled the leaves overhead and fanned her cheek. She closed her eyes. She wasn’t surprised when Gator’s face came into view, and she wondered if she would ever be able to close her eyes without seeing him.

Gator made his way across the backyard toward the garage where his mother claimed he would find the new barbecue grill. He came to a screeching halt when he spotted Michelle sleeping in the chair. He stepped closer.

She looked clean and fresh in a blue summer dress, and her face was as delicate in sleep as the rose in her lap. Her hair had been pulled back, but some of it had escaped, and blond tendrils wafted over her face in the breeze. She had never looked lovelier. He slid his gaze downward to her slender legs and smiled at the sight of her bare feet. Her eyelashes fluttered open then, and she appeared surprised at finding him there.

“Did I fall asleep?”

He nodded. “Looks that way.”

“Oh.” She rose up and patted her hair self-consciously. “I must’ve been more tired than I thought.”

Her words seemed to amuse him. “You didn’t get much sleep last night, as I recall.”

“That’s true,” she said. She wondered how long he’d been watching her. “When did you get here?”

“Just this minute. My mother sent me out to find the grill, with firm instructions not to wake you.”

Michelle noticed he’d changed clothes. He looked good in a short-sleeve cotton print shirt and the usual blue jeans. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

He didn’t answer right away. “You could do one thing, Mic,” he said at last. “You could stop tempting me beyond rational thought. You could stop haunting my dreams at night. That would help a great deal.” With that he walked away.

Michelle couldn’t remember the last time that chicken had tasted so good. Having spent the past few days eating hot dogs and canned tuna and Spam, the grilled chicken was a real treat. Fiona had picked some of the last of her vegetables from the garden and, of course, there was also the old standby these days, pork and beans from a can. Michelle took a serving out of politeness but decided she’d eaten enough pork and beans to last a lifetime.

Gator was surprisingly quiet over dinner, although he gave a progress report on the work in town. A group of Mennonites had arrived that afternoon with several truckloads of lumber and planned to work as long as necessary to get people back into their homes. Donations had already started pouring in, through both the Red Cross and from churches and private citizens trying to assist the homeless. An anonymous caller had donated a brand new mobile home for a family of six who’d lost their trailer when part of the mobile-home park had been destroyed. Gator and the town’s officials hoped it would spark more donations, since FEMA was not giving out any trailers.

It was dark by the time they finished dinner, and while Michelle assisted the women in cleaning up, Gator lit the kerosene lamps. Michelle sensed the change in him. He was withdrawing. It was clear by the way he avoided eye contact with her, by the way he was careful not to stand too close, and by the way he walked clear around the table to avoid brushing past her. It irritated the daylights out of her. All her insecurities threatened to surface, but she forced them back. She was not going to let Gator’s behavior upset her, she told herself. She did not deserve it. She had given him the best part of her. If he chose to back off, that was his problem.

It had been good between them—downright wonderful, as a matter of fact. Perhaps that was the problem. Maybe Gator realized he wasn’t likely to find it so good anywhere else. Something had clicked between them, not only physically, but emotionally. She was certain Gator knew that. She had seen it in his eyes, felt it in his tender kiss, and heard it in his sighs of pleasure.

Gator could deny it all he wanted, but deep down he had to recognize it for what it was—love. Still, she would bite off her tongue before she’d try to convince him. She would never push or try to extract promises from him. Heaven knew, she’d had enough of that from her parents, always vying for their attention, living on false promises, playing second fiddle to their busy careers and social life.

It hadn’t been much better with Jeffrey. With him, medicine and his patients had come first. All his energies had been geared to that cause, and by the time he could schedule an evening with her, he was emotionally drained. She had not minded at first, so impressed was she with his dedication to others. But now she realized he’d spent a great deal of time whining to her about it afterward or breaking dates simply because he was too exhausted to do anything. And she had been exhausted too, having worked right alongside him. Yet, somehow that fact had escaped him. She had been shortchanged in the relationship. She didn’t feel sorry for herself any longer, thank heavens, but she was determined not to let it happen again. From now on, she would get back what she gave to a man. She would come first in his life or not at all.

“Why don’t we sit on the front porch for a bit?” Fiona suggested, interrupting Michelle’s thoughts. The older woman untied her cotton apron and folded it. “It’s much cooler.”

Gator had a refusal formed on his lips but bit it back. He couldn’t very well rush off without appearing rude. He would stay ten or fifteen minutes, then excuse himself, saying he had to get back to town. He knew it was crazy to stay. He hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off Michelle all evening, and every time she caught him staring he glanced away. He felt like a teenager again, trying to catch her scent as she passed by him. He would have half the town laughing at him behind his back by the time she returned home.

Reba and Fiona carried the conversation for a while; then, as though perfectly synchronized, they stood and excused themselves, announcing they were ready for bed. The screen door slammed closed behind them, and Gator suddenly found himself alone with Michelle.

He gazed at her for a moment, tracing her silhouette in the moonlight. Her neck looked long and sleek with her hair pulled back. He was tempted to loosen her hair from the braid affixed at the back of her head so he could watch her blond hair fall to her shoulders. His gut tightened at the thought of how she’d looked in bed with her hair fanning the pillow.

He should tell her how he was feeling, he thought. Tell her why he had to put some distance between them. It wasn’t fair just leaving her hanging as he’d done with other women so many times before. This wasn’t just any woman; this was Michelle, the girl he’d dreamed about for sixteen years. He owed her the truth. But before he could say anything, she stood and stretched.

“I think I’ll turn in now,” she said, giving him an easy smile. “I need to be up early in the morning and get into town. I want to see what can be done about my car.” She patted Gator on the shoulder as she passed, much as she would have a brother or an old school buddy. She didn’t see his look of surprise. “Good night,” she said. And then she was gone.

For a moment, Gator merely sat there, staring at the chair she’d occupied only a moment before. He had planned his exit so carefully, rehearsed exactly what he’d say if she tried to pressure him or stop him from leaving. Oddly enough, she hadn’t asked him about the future, nor had she made any reference to the time they’d spent alone at Reba’s place. He hadn’t had to lie or make excuses or offer his usual speeches.

And, frankly, he didn’t quite know what to make of it.

Gator pushed himself up from the rocker and headed toward his truck, a frown drawing his brows together. He drove toward town, passing the Night Life Lounge, where a dozen or so cars were parked out front. Knowing the owner as he did, Gator figured the man would have iced down a couple of cases and was serving by candlelight. He braked, thinking he might stop by for a cold one and a bit of conversation.

He pulled off the road and sat in the parking lot for a full five minutes, trying to decide what to do. Well, why not go inside and pop a can, he thought. He was off duty and had put in a rough day. He deserved to kick up his feet and relax a bit. Of course, he would be expected to flirt and carry on with the women as he usually did. He hadn’t let a sheriff’s badge change him in that department.

But he
had
changed in other ways, he knew. He had fallen in love with Michelle Thurston all over again, and he was half-afraid someone would discover it, either in his face or in the way he talked. And how would he carry on an intelligent conversation, for Pete’s sake? It was like she had stolen his mind. He couldn’t think straight these days, and he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since Michelle had hit town. Boy, falling in love really took it out of a guy, he decided.

Once again, he told himself he had to get her out of town. Until then, he would have to put his partying aside. He didn’t need a beer when he was confused to begin with. And he didn’t need loud music or conversation when his thoughts were so jumbled he couldn’t see his hands in front of his face.

Gator accelerated, pulling out of the parking lot and leaving the lounge behind, and he silently cursed the green-eyed woman who’d reduced him to such a sad state.

When Gator carried a bag of ice out to his mother’s the following afternoon, he learned that Michelle had gotten up early and driven Fiona’s car into town. She returned just as he was about to leave, her expression almost forlorn.

“Did you find someone to help you with your car?” he asked as she climbed out of his mother’s old station wagon.

“They can’t get to it until next week,” she said. “It’s going to take them a few more days to repair the bridge. Needless to say, they can’t get to my car until the bridge is safe to cross. Then I have to wait my turn. My car was not the only one damaged in the storm,” she added with a dejected sigh.

Gator crossed his arms and leaned against his truck. He couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for her. She was wearing the same blue dress from the day before, her hair pulled into a demure ponytail, making her appear years younger. He realized then just how disappointed he’d been when he’d arrived and found her gone.

He hadn’t slept worth a damn the night before, tossing and turning in his bed until the wee hours of the morning, his thoughts, as always, trained on Michelle. He wondered if she guessed what he was going through, the emptiness that stole over him when she wasn’t around, the fear and frustration of seeing her and knowing nothing could come of their relationship. He wondered if she was going through any of it herself, but decided she probably wasn’t. She was in such an all-fired hurry to get back home she probably had no idea how much he was suffering.

On one hand, he wanted her so badly he couldn’t stand it. He wanted to feel her beneath him, opening herself up to him, just as his mother’s roses opened their petals to receive the sun. He wanted to fill her with his own heat. He wanted to slip his tongue between those dewy lips of hers, hear her sigh of pleasure at his ear, feel her body tremble at his touch, and listen to the tiny gasping sound she made each time she climaxed. He wanted to reach out in his sleep and find her there, soft and warm and smelling like a piece of heaven. Once again, he chided himself for having such dangerous thoughts.

It irritated the hell out of him that he could wallow in indecision and utter bewilderment while she couldn’t wait to get back to her life in Baton Rouge, to the doctor in his spiffy white lab coat and prestigious lifestyle. She might say the relationship was over, but he wondered if she wasn’t waiting to see what happened with regard to the marriage between the man and his pregnant wife.

Gator had decided the night before to hand in his resignation at the end of the week. That in itself would take a big load off his mind, and by then the townspeople would at least be headed in the right direction. Although it could still be a couple of weeks before power was restored, at least the people of Temptation would have the necessities. What more could they expect from him?

But there was still the problem of what to do about Michelle. She was a constant distraction. With her out of the way, his life could return to normal. He could gear his thoughts in the right direction once more. He hadn’t spent ten years of his life sweating his butt off in the sugar cane fields only to end up just like his father, chasing poachers through the swamps, busting up barroom brawls, risking his neck every time a husband and wife got into a heated argument. For the first time in his life he had money to travel, money to invest in something lucrative. He could go places and do things he’d never dreamed of before. He could
be
somebody, despite having lived with a man much of his life who had claimed he’d never amount to anything. But first, he had to put Michelle out of his life, this time for good.