Think About Love (17 page)

Samantha spent most of Friday evening in shock, trying to recover from that kiss. They'd be married tomorrow. There were details to be looked after, but all she could think of was the hot pulse throbbing at the pit of her stomach.

There'd be no waiting, no getting her balance, no cool friendship leading slowly to physical intimacy. She'd felt him, hard and demanding, thrusting against her belly... had felt her own pulse, wild and thundering, demanding she fling herself off the edge, trust herself to wild heat and lust.

Surely it was better to feel desire, because she could hardly expect Cal to commit to eighteen years of celibacy, and she would hate him to go to another woman while he was married to her. Any woman would hate it.

She remembered the screaming battles from her childhood with a shudder. She wasn't her mother. They couldn't be more different. Jeanette might have thrown herself off cliffs regularly, taking her children with her, but Samantha Jones had control of her own life and nobody was taking it from her—not Jeanette, not Cal. Nobody.

With Howard, she'd never felt that pulsing hunger, that feeling of losing control, of herself slipping away. She had to remember that this was about sex, not about life. Just physical sensations. Afterward, once they'd made love....

Better to get it over with, she decided. Then sexual intimacy would be just another aspect of their partnership.

The house pulsed with life, with people. Wayne and Nora, looking pleased, as if this marriage had been their idea. Dorothy, thoughtful but smiling. Cal's parents and his sister, Adrienne, three vibrant people filled with the energy she'd always loved feeling from Cal himself. It was the thing that made working for him so exciting, so rewarding. That and the fact that in his own interfering way, he let her have control, let her do her job exactly as she wanted.

Kippy, gurgling and laughing, enjoying being handed from one set of arms to another, then suddenly making shy and crying for familiar arms.

Dorothy put her to bed under Adrienne's watchful eye.

"We'd better go," said Katherine, Cal's mother. She gave Samantha a light kiss on her cheek. "You need some quiet time after this mob. We'll look after Cal tomorrow morning, keep him away until it's time for the wedding." She smiled, affection in her eyes and her voice, though she knew almost nothing about Sam, only that her son was marrying her.

"Thank you," Samantha said, an unexpected wave of sadness threatening tears.

"No," said her husband's deep voice. So much like's Cal's voice, with a little more gravel. "You're the one who should be thanked. Welcome to the family, Samantha."

Cal caught her hand and drew her outside with them while Adrienne helped Dorothy to the car.

Cal's hand clasped hers, and she felt her body droop with lethargy. She wasn't ready for another kiss. Not yet.

"We haven't signed the prenuptial," she said.

"You're right." He frowned. "We can't do it tomorrow morning. My mother is determined the groom won't see the bride before the ceremony. Could we slip inside now and get Wayne to witness our signatures?"

She couldn't tell Wayne, who was so obviously pleased for her, that this was a business deal. "Can we get the commissioner to witness it, after the ceremony? When we're doing the paperwork, and she's giving us the marriage certificate."

"It wouldn't be a prenuptial agreement, then, would it?" He touched her mouth to silence her as her lips parted.

"We'll sign it whenever you want, Sam. I trust you. The question is, do you trust me?"

Did she trust him? Certainly she trusted him to sign it if he said he would, but he seemed to be asking so much more.

"After the ceremony," she said. "We'll sign then."

"A skilled evasion," he murmured. His hand slid into her hair and she felt her head tilt back, her lips tingling, parting.

His mouth was just a breath away from hers when she pulled back.

"Sam, I want to kiss you." He brushed her lips with his thumb, and they had no choice but to part for him. "Earlier, I thought you wanted it, too."

"Your parents," she breathed. "Your sister. My grandmother."

"They're in the car. No one's going to be surprised if we spend a minute alone here, in the shadows."

He drew her arms around his neck and she gave her lips. The gentleness burned away as their mouths met. She felt herself swept into his heat, his hand hard on her back, her breasts throbbing against his chest, his tongue teaching her the sultry headiness of their mouths pleasuring each other.

The curls of his hair sprang tightly around her fingers as she pulled his head down. Closer and she kissed him back, her mouth hungry, needy, unable to get enough.

"God, Sam...." He groaned and his hand covered her breast.

She heard herself whimper; then she sagged as his thumb brushed over her throbbing nipple. He staggered, cursed softly, pulled her into him, and dove deeper into her mouth, to her very center.

Someone honked a horn.

She clung when Cal's mouth slowly drew back from hers.

She could feel his breath, hard and ragged, against her face. She heard someone laugh.

"Come on, Calin, time to go!" Adrienne, his sister, called from the car.

Samantha couldn't seem to let him go. He stared down at her, too dark here in the shadows beside the veranda for her to read his expression, but she felt his pulse, beating with hers. His hand... his hand on her breast, aching sweetness. She couldn't talk, covered it with hers.

Cal turned his hand and threaded his fingers through hers, then lifted her hand to his lips. His laugh was harsh. "What the hell have we been doing this last eighteen months? Why haven't we done this before?"

"Cal, I'm not ready for this."

He took her hand. Darkness. "You're exhausted. You'll feel better after the wedding."

Then he was gone.

She listened to the car driving away. When it was gone, she heard silence, then the nighttime chorus of frogs. She closed her eyes and slowly felt the peace of the island seep over her.

Only a few minutes ago, she'd been wrapped around Cal, burning in his arms, hidden from Dorothy and his family by shadows, but only a few feet away. And for a moment, she'd needed his touch more than life itself.

The frogs fell suddenly silent. She heard the door open, turned and saw Wayne step outside.

"Nora's tucked up on the sofa with a romance she's been wanting to read. I brought you a glass of wine, Samantha."

She took the glass from his hand, stepped up onto the veranda, and sank into the big wicker chair, glad of the shadows. Wayne leaned against the rail.

She held the wineglass in her hands, thought about the question for long seconds, then asked, "Why did you marry my mother, Wayne? Don't answer if—"

"It's time we talked about her," he said mildly. "It was a long time ago. There's no pain left. Sadness, a sense of failure, but not pain."

She put her glass down in the little table where she'd been using her computer all week.
"You
didn't fail."

"She was entrancing, fascinating. I married her for lust, of course, but also, she needed me. I guess I thought it was love, but Jeanette doesn't do love. She’s like a comet—blazing, exciting, until the instant she burns out."

Samantha said, "I don't know anything about marriage, how to do it."

"You've got her fire. I used to see it in your eyes sometimes when you were a kid, before you became so damned controlled. When you told me you were getting married, I worried that you might try to do marriage from a distance, in complete control, the opposite of the way your mother did."

"Control is important." She felt the sensation again, Cal's mouth in hers, her own hunger. She would never forget now.

"Love is important, too," said Wayne. "I saw him kiss you when he arrived."

"Do you know how many times I watched her fall in love? Seven husbands now, isn't it? Not to mention the men in between. In the end, they all go sour."

"In the end she always leaves. What are you afraid of, Samantha? The only part of your mother in you is the energy, the fire, but in you it's solid, enduring. When Kippy needed you, when Dorothy called you last week, you came right away." He leaned forward. "That's love, Sam. Falling in love is the fire, and it's splendid, but it's nothing without the other—without day-after-day loving. You've taken on this child now, you've made a promise to little Kippy in your heart, and if the going gets tough, if that promise means you have to rearrange your own life, it doesn't change the promise, does it?"

"No, it doesn't. You did the same for us, Wayne. You had no real obligation, but you looked out for Sarah and me, fought for us when we needed it."

"Jeanette's promises were like water. She would promise whatever was necessary to get what she wanted, but when she was called for payment she ran every time. Love is only partly about passion and lust. The rest of it is character and commitment. You have both, and so does your man."

She couldn't tell him there was no love, couldn't say anything at all. But he was right even so. The heat and madness she'd felt in Cal's arms, still throbbing in her belly, wasn't the point. Marriage, any marriage, was about keeping promises, and she and Cal would keep theirs.

Sex aside, this was a business partnership. They were two strong-willed people forging an alliance for mutual benefit. Once all these people went away, life would get back to normal, a new normal with Kippy woven into the fabric of Samantha's life and Cal back at work on the Lloyd project. They would probably have sex, but not that often. They would both be far too busy.

Samantha Moonbeam Jones and Calin Antony Tremaine were married in midafternoon on the sun-bathed lawn of the home Dorothy Marshall had lived in with Samantha's grandfather.

Samantha's hand trembled as Cal slid the plain gold band onto her finger. Trembled still as she placed the matching ring on his. Two gold bands. Two hands. Her family watching, and Cal's. She would not let this be a mistake.

She trembled as his lips covered hers, afraid she might overreact the way she had the last two times.

"Breathe," he murmured, his hand against her cheek. "And kiss me."

She lifted her arms to his shoulders, joined her lips with his, felt his hand at her waist, firm, protecting her. His lips were gentle, almost soothing, and she felt herself relax.

He kissed her again, very softly. "If we can crack Lloyd together, we can do this."

Someone took a picture, and she felt Cal's hand on her shoulder. Steadying her. Then he led her to the table where the commissioner was waiting with documents to be signed. She hadn't seen Cal give the two copies of the prenuptial agreement to the commissioner, but there they were, and she signed her name with a steady hand.

Then she stood with Cal and heard the commissioner say, "Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Tremaine."

Someone started the music again, a CD playing on the stereo Nora had pulled out onto the veranda earlier. Then Samantha was walking with Cal toward these people who were their family, surrounded by old evergreens.

Cal stood at her side, his hand resting on the waist of her simple white sheath dress. Then Wayne was hugging her, saying, "I love you, honey. You're going to be fine."

Nora kissed her cheek and whispered, "He's a major hunk. Enjoy him."

Samantha flushed hotly and found herself being hugged by Katherine, being held against her generous curves. "You' re absolutely glowing. Welcome to the family, dear."

Glowing? She felt a wreck.

"It's lovely to have a small wedding," said Adrienne, hugging her tightly. "So much nicer than those two-hundred-people deals where the bride and groom are crippled with stage fright."

Samantha laughed; it was that or sink into a ridiculous pool of nerves. It was done now, whether it had been wise or not. She drew in a deep breath and turned to find herself enveloped in Dorothy's arms.

"You be happy, do you hear, Moonbeam? You're a good child, you always were. Don't be afraid to fall in love."

"Grandma...."

Dorothy stepped back. "Now go off and have your honeymoon."

Honeymoon?

At her side, Cal murmured, "Are you going to call yourself Mrs. Tremaine?"

"I don't know. I haven't even thought of it."

"Been busy?"

"A bit." When he smiled, she felt her tension ease. This was Cal. She'd worked with him for eighteen months. She'd argued with him, supported him, struggled with him to make Tremaine's the best they could make it.

They'd been good partners, were still.