Authors: Sandra Chastain
Sam drew her down beside him, pausing for a moment, breathing deeply to control that part of him impatient now to find its place inside her.
Andrea heard the urgent beat of her heart pounding in rhythm with the rapid movement of a fat bumble bee hovering nearby, as though he were stunned by what he saw. Sam pressed her back against the blanket. The soft sweet smell of the yellow honeysuckle seemed to envelop them, and Andrea thought she’d never felt so at one with the earth.
Then he moved over her, and she felt herself open to receive him. Slowly the miracle occurred as he filled her. At the same time the callused tip of one finger slipped between them, touching, coaxing until she was catapulted into orbit. In the blaze of glory that followed, she could hear him calling her name, over and over again, along with words that burned through her subconscious: “Andrea, my love, my love, my love.”
As she drifted back to earth, he turned her face to his, tracing the little band of perspiration from her forehead with a finger. His eyes reflected his surprise, but his voice was warm and lazy, his breath a caress on her damp face.
“I’ve made love to a few women in my time,
Andrea, but that was special. You took everything I had to give and made it more than it ever was before. You wrung me dry, woman.” Sam paused, planting little kisses across her face.
“I’m sorry,” he said after a long moment. “I guess that sounded crude. I didn’t mean it to be. I can do it, but I don’t know how to talk about making love to a woman. I’ve never done that before.”
He outlined her bottom lip with his finger, leaning down and continuing the motion across her lips with his tongue. “Andrea, I have to know. I mean it’s a little silly to ask, but was it okay for us to make love?”
“You’re right,” she said softly, “it is a little late. And I think you know that it was definitely okay.”
“No, I mean, are you … was it safe? It’s never mattered much to me about that kind of thing. I figured most women know the score. But you … you’re different. I wouldn’t want …”
“You wouldn’t want to leave me with a child?” Andrea felt the forest go quiet.
“Oh, my Stormy lady,” he whispered, “I’d like nothing better than to give you a child. But I know what not having a father is like.”
“And I know what not having a mother is like, Sam,” she answered with a lump in her throat. “It’s all right. I’m protected, though I don’t know why. You’re the first man I’ve …” She started to say “made love to,” then caught herself and changed her words to “slept with in a long time.”
“Thank you for telling me that,” Sam said, capturing her lips in a kiss so tender that he couldn’t conceal the depth of his emotion. “You’re salty,”
he teased finally, “and you’re too quiet for me to know how to deal with you.”
He was still on top of her. She could feel the length of him along her body. He was magnificent, the most sensual man she’d ever known. And he’d just made love to her as he’d promised. And the earth had moved. And suddenly she accepted the truth. She’d wanted this as much as Sam. Once he left, the hurt wouldn’t be any less than the wanting would have been.
“I might have done a lot of things, Sam,” she said with a newfound lilt in her voice, “but wringing you dry wasn’t one of them.”
“Ah, you noticed.”
All this was new to Andrea, and she gave herself over to the wild-looking stranger who had invaded her town and her mind. Everything about his touch was intoxicating until he reached over and casually dribbled icy springwater across her breasts.
“
Aiiiii!
” she squealed, and rolled away from him, knowing what was coming next. She glanced at the water and back at Sam. He was going to do it, and she might just as well choose her own pace. Whirling away, she took a deep breath and jumped, steeling herself against the icy reception that awaited her. The explosion of water that followed her was the signal that Sam was right behind her. Breaking the surface, she gasped for air, feeling the icy prickles shoot through her.
“Wow, lady. What do I need a refrigerator for when I have this?” He shook his head, slinging the water across her neck and shoulders. “Why didn’t you tell me it was melted ice?”
“Pure artesian water. The town’s drinking water
comes from another one just like it south of town. Purest drinking water in the South. Have some.” Andrea treaded water, trying to adjust her body to the temperature. She still jumped when Sam reached out and drew her to him.
Andrea looked down into the crystal-clear pool and watched the shimmering image of the two of them. The skin that had been covered by his cut-offs was the same pale color as his feet. With her finger she traced the line of color at his waist. The same lighter shade was evident on her where her bikini bottoms had been when she’d sunbathed earlier in the spring. “Look, we match. But I’m losing my tan,” she observed, comparing their skin, “since I’ve had to spend so much time indoors on police work.”
“That’s not the only place we match.” He slipped his knee between her leg and pressed against her.
Andrea felt an answering tingle beneath his tough. “A police officer always gets her man, but I think this cold water might slow things down a bit.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve been told that south Georgia is a pretty hot place, Officer Fleming.”
“ ‘Officer Fleming’! Good heavens, Sam. I walked away from the CB without checking out with Agnes. That was at least an hour ago.”
“Relax. I had a quick talk with Agnes on my way down from the roof and through the house.”
“But suppose somebody needed me.”
“Someone did,” Sam said slowly, drawing her back into his arms. “Someone still needs you.”
But reality had intruded, and the magic had gone out of the moment. She’d allowed herself to
forget everything but the black-eyed gypsy who was holding her. She’d wanted to forget. But suddenly she couldn’t. Suppose Buck was back?
“Let me go, Sam.” She jerked frantically away and scrambled out of the pool. The heat hit her like a hammer, and she didn’t have to worry about not having a towel to dry off before she dressed.
Before Sam could begin to get his boots on, Andrea was flying back through the woods to the house. She couldn’t believe what she’d done, giving herself to Sam in the middle of the day in the woods, neglecting her duty. Charging out of the pine thicket, she ran across the field and around the barn to the patrol car.
“Enjoy your swim?” Buck looked at Andrea, the slight trace of a frown telling his concern.
Andrea took a deep breath and raised her eyes in confusion. “I’m sorry, Buck. Have I had any calls?”
She didn’t see Brad, but Otis suddenly began hammering wildly. If he was really hitting a nail, it was either ten inches long or only every other lick was connecting. Buck glanced up. Sam was coming down from the orchard, carrying his boots in his hand, his dark hair curling damply on his head.
“No. I take it that you and Sam came to some kind of understanding. You seem upset.”
“No. I mean, I don’t know, Buck. I don’t seem to be very rational at the moment.”
“I guess I can understand that,” Buck said with sadness in his voice. “I’ve been there too, Andy. I only hope he doesn’t cut your heart up in little pieces and go away and leave you to hurt. You
might not be as lucky as I was. You don’t have you.”
Andrea stood for a moment, letting the truth of Buck’s words sift through to her mind. She turned, forcing herself not to look at Sam, and brushed some grass off her trouserlegs. Quickly she pinned her damp hair into a knot at the back of her head and went to the car.
Maybe Sam was ready to be completely honest about their relationship, but she wasn’t sure she could handle that much truth. What in the world was she going to do?
All the way down the drive she felt Sam watching her. Her life was changing too quickly. Sam Farley had invaded her town and changed it.
From the top of the drive Sam watched her leave. For the first time he was uncertain. He didn’t know what he felt or where the feelings were leading. What he’d shared with Andrea had been more than sex. He wanted … he wanted her back beside him, in the swing, in his house, in his bed. Beyond that he couldn’t allow himself to think.
Examining his inner feelings was new to him.
Admitting that he cared was a risk.
For the first time he was beginning to understand his mother’s need for Arcadia. It was a truth that had always been there, no matter what else had happened in his life. He knew, too, that leaving wouldn’t be easy. But he’d learned the hard way that he didn’t fit into a town like this. Yet a part of it had already become a part of him.
At six-thirty the sun was still high in the sky and hot as sin. Sin, Andrea thought with a cynical laugh. How many people gave themselves over to pure unadulterated lust in the middle of the day and later made their way to church?
She cut through the little patch of green trees outside the red-brick church and pushed open the door to the sanctuary, embracing coolness inside. She loved the pale green carpet and white interior, the lacy white columns and choir rails. Everything was just as she’d always remembered.
There’d been a time when she’d been so glad to shed Arcadia’s chains of restraint that she hadn’t looked back. Simply getting off the bus from Arcadia and walking down the Atlanta streets with the promise of her whole life ahead of her had been intoxicating. Nothing could have kept her from following David. She wondered if, with Sam, she
was freeing emotions that she couldn’t call back again.
David hadn’t asked her to follow him. And in the end she’d seen the outside world for what it really was: one big seductive lie that drew you in and used you. And she’d turned away from a dream and returned to a place and people she could understand.
But now that wicked excitement had come to Arcadia, first invading her thoughts and then her body. And she didn’t have any other place to go. Andrea sat quietly. She had to believe that she’d get through this too. He’d soon be gone, this vagabond with the dark eyes and magnetic power, and then Arcadia would be as it was before.
Andrea straightened her shoulders and went into the Sunday-school classrooms that had been opened wide to accommodate the crowd for the choir’s program and the supper afterward. Long-legged boys with changing voices entered and milled around, secretly finding reasons to tease the girls, who gave nervous giggles in return. When Andrea walked up to the piano, her choir quickly surrounded her and waited for directions.
By the time the program began, almost every table was full. At first the audience gasped at the unexpected rhythm of the rock music the teenagers performed, then they settled down and listened to the words of the songs. Andrea watched their surprise turn into warm acceptance and applause at the program’s end.
The lights came up, and the minister gave a startled vote of appreciation for the “unusual” program presented by “our” young people. Everyone
was eating when Andrea finally got through the rush of compliments and turned to acknowledge one last fan who’d been waiting patiently behind her.
“Not only are you very beautiful, but you’re a lady of many talents.”
“Sam!” She turned, unable to believe he was really there, in the church. The shock of hearing his voice was nothing compared to the shock of seeing him when she turned. Gone were the blue jeans and long hair. The man standing before her was wearing a pair of dark brown, sharply creased trousers, a cream-color short-sleeved shirt that accented his broad shoulders and small waist, and boots polished with such a shine that she could see herself in them. His face was clean-shaven, his hair neatly trimmed. He smiled merrily as he held out his hand.
“May I share your table, Ms. Chief Fleming?”
Madge, herding a lanky teenager toward a table, stopped short. “Andrea! You turkey. Why didn’t you tell me you had a date?”
Andrea heard Madge, and she tried to answer. She was simply having a hard time communicating.
Sam’s lips crinkled as he turned to Madge. “She didn’t expect me,” he explained smoothly. “I’m Sam Farley. I believe we met at the courthouse.”
“Oh, I remember.” Madge grinned. “You’d be hard to forget in this town. Are there any more at home like you?”
A quick grin flashed across his face, then disappeared. “No, ma’am, and it’s probably just as well. I seem to have this peculiar effect on people that renders them speechless. Do you think we should
feed her, or stand her in the corner out of the traffic?”
“Oh, the corner, definitely. That means more goodies for us.” They both moved toward Andrea, each taking an elbow as though they were going to lift her body.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Andrea finally managed. “I’m just surprised.” She glanced around at the faces in the crowd. They were all turned toward Sam Farley. A red flush started at her toes and worked its way upward. “Will you two stop it? Everybody is staring.”
“So they are.” Sam nodded, and, placing his hand in the small of her back, pushed Andrea toward the food tables as though he’d been attending church socials for years. His broad smile covered the words he whispered under his breath. “I like the red dress, darlin’. It’s”—his voice reached a normal tone as he finished the sentence—“hot, isn’t it, Madge?”
“Very warm,” Madge agreed, and handed Sam a plate.
“We could use a little rain, don’t you think?”
“Definitely. My garden is really looking bad.” Madge giggled, thoroughly enjoying the banter.
Madge and Sam kept a running conversation going, as if they were a couple of old friends, ignoring Andrea’s silence. She was amazed that Sam seemed to be perfectly content, speaking to anybody who stopped by to inquire about the house or to discuss a carpentry job they needed to have done, as though he’d been doing it for years.
Madge brought Sam a second helping of blackberry pie and filled their cups with coffee. “I’m
sorry we didn’t know how to reach you earlier, Sam,” she said with genuine regret. “You might have been able to prevent the sale.”
“Not your fault,” Sam said quietly. “I’ve been all over the United States, including parts of Alaska, during the past ten years. The postman just never caught up with my feet.”