He exhaled sharply when he finished. “Your leg has nothing to do with this. Nothing. Do you understand?”
“Why were you so surprised, then?” she asked, struggling to keep her indignation alive. It was almost impossible when she was in his arms.
His answer took a long time. “I don’t know.”
“That’s what I thought.” She broke away and held her purse against her like a shield. “We’ve agreed to disagree on the issue of love and marriage, isn’t that correct?”
“Yes,” he said without emotion.
“Then I don’t see any reason for us to continue our debate. It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Davenport. Goodbye.” Having said that, she jerked open the car door and nearly toppled backward. She caught herself in the nick of time before she could tumble head-first into the alley.
“Savannah, for heaven’s sake, will you—”
“Please, just leave me alone,” she said, furious with herself for making such a dramatic exit and with him for reasons as yet unclear.
Because he made her feel, she guessed sometime later, when she was home and safe. He made her feel as if she was whole and without flaws. As if she was an attractive, desirable woman. Savannah blamed Nash for pretending she could be something she wasn’t and the anger simmered in her blood long after she’d readied for bed.
Neatly folding her quilt at the foot of her bed, Savannah stood, seething, taking deep breaths to keep the tears at bay.
In the morning, after she’d downed her first cup of coffee, Savannah felt better. She was determined to put the incident and the man out of her mind. There was no reason for them to see each other again, no reason for them to continue with this farce. Not that Nash would want to see her, especially after the idiotic way she’d behaved, scrambling out of his car as if escaping a murderer.
As was so often the case of late, Savannah was wrong. Nash was waiting on the sidewalk in front of her shop, carrying a white bag, when she arrived for work.
“Another peace offering?” she asked, when she unlocked the front door and opened it for him.
“Something like that.” He handed her a latte, then walked across the showroom and sat on the corner of her desk, dangling one leg, as though he had every right to make himself comfortable in her place of business.
Savannah hadn’t recovered from seeing him again so soon; she wasn’t prepared for another confrontation. “What can I do for you?” she asked stiffly, setting the latte aside. She sat down and leaned back in the swivel chair, hoping she looked relaxed, knowing she didn’t.
“I’ve come to answer your question,” he said, leg swinging as he pried loose the lid on his cup. He was so blasé about everything, as if the intensity of their kisses was a common thing for him. As if she was one in a long line of conquests. “You wanted to know what was different last night and I’m here to tell you.”
This was the last thing Savannah expected. She glanced pointedly at her watch. “Is this going to take long? I’ve got an appointment in ten minutes.”
“I’ll be out of here before your client arrives.”
“Good.” She crossed her arms, trying to hold on to her patience. Their kisses embarrassed her now. She was determined to push the whole incident out of her mind and forget him. It’d been crazy to make a wager with him. Fun, true, but sheer folly nonetheless. The best she could do was forget she’d ever met the man. Nash, however, seemed unwilling to let that happen.
“Well?” she pressed when he didn’t immediately speak.
“A woman doesn’t generally go to my head the way you did,” he said. “When I make love to a woman I’m the one in control.”
“We weren’t making love,” she said heatedly, heat flushing her cheeks with instant color. Her fingers bit into the soft flesh of her arms as she fought to keep the embarrassment to herself.
“What do you call it, then?”
“Kissing.”
“Yes, but it would’ve developed into something a whole lot more complicated if we hadn’t been in my car. The last time I made love in the backseat of a car, I was—”
“This may come as a surprise to you, but I have no interest in hearing about your sexual exploits,” she interjected.
“Fine,” he snapped.
“Besides, we were nowhere near making love.”
Nash’s responding snort sent ripples of outrage through Savannah. “You overestimate your appeal, Mr. Davenport.”
He laughed outright this time. “Somehow or other, I thought you’d say as much. I was hoping you’d be a bit more honest, but then, I’ve found truth an unusual trait in most women.”
The bell above her door chimed just then, and her appointment strolled into the shop. Savannah was so grateful to have this uncomfortable conversation interrupted, she almost hugged her client.
“I’d love to continue this debate,” she lied, “but as you can see, I have a customer.”
“Perhaps another time,” Nash suggested.
She hesitated. “Perhaps.”
He snickered disdainfully as he stood and sipped from the take-out cup. “As I said, women seem to have a hard time dealing with the truth.”
Savannah pretended not to hear him as she walked toward her customer, a welcoming smile on her face. “Good morning, Melinda. I’m so glad to see you.”
Nash said nothing as he sauntered past her and out the door. Not until he was out of sight did Savannah relax her guard. He claimed she went to his head. What he didn’t know was that his effect on her was startlingly similar. Then again, perhaps he did know….
The woman irritated him. No, Nash decided as he hit the sidewalk, his stride clipped and fast, she more than irritated him. Savannah Charles incensed him. He didn’t understand this oppressive need he felt to talk to her, to explain, to hear her thoughts. He’d awakened wishing things hadn’t ended so abruptly between them, wishing he’d known what to say to convince her of his sincerity. Morning had felt like a second chance.
In retrospect, he suspected he was looking for help himself in working through the powerful emotions that had evolved during their embrace. Instead, Savannah claimed he’d miscalculated her reaction. The heck he had.
He should’ve realized she was as confused as he was about their explosive response to each other.
Nash arrived at his office half an hour later than usual. As he walked past his assistant’s desk, she handed him several telephone messages. He was due in court in twenty minutes, and wouldn’t have time to return any calls until early afternoon. Shuffling through the slips, he stopped at the third one.
Susan.
His sister had called him, apparently on her cell. Without further thought he set his briefcase aside and reached for the phone, punching out the number listed.
“Susan, it’s Nash,” he said when she answered. If he hadn’t been so eager to talk to her, he might have mulled over the reason for her call. Something must have happened; otherwise she wouldn’t have swallowed her pride to contact him.
“Hello, Nash.”
He waited a moment in vain for her to continue. “You called me?”
“Yes,” she said abruptly. “I wanted to apologize for hanging up on you the other day. It was rude and unnecessary. Kurt and I had a…discussion about it and he said I owed you an apology.”
“Kurt’s got a good head on his shoulders,” he said, thinking his sister would laugh and the tension between them would ease. It didn’t.
“I thought about what he had to say and Kurt’s right. I’m sorry for the way I reacted.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Nash admitted. “I shouldn’t have checked up on you behind your back.” If she could be so generous with her forgiveness, then so could he. After all, Susan was his little sister. He had her best interests at heart, although she wouldn’t fully appreciate his concern until later in life, when she was responsible for children of her own. He wasn’t Susan’s father, but he was her closest relative. Although she was twenty-four, he felt she still needed h
is guidance and direction.
“I was thinking we might have lunch together some afternoon,” she ventured, and the quaver in her voice revealed how uneasy she was making the suggestion.
Nash had missed their lunches together. “Sounds like a great idea to me. How about Thursday?”
“Same place as always?”
There was a Mexican restaurant that was their favorite, on a steep side street not far from the King County courthouse. They’d made a point of meeting there for lunch at least once a month for the past several years. The waitresses knew them well enough to greet them by name.
“All right. See you Thursday at noon.”
“Great.”
Grinning, Nash replaced the receiver.
He looked forward to this luncheon date with his sister the way a kid anticipates the arrival of the Easter bunny. They’d both said and done things they regretted. Nash hadn’t changed his mind about his sister marrying Kurt Caldwell. Kurt was decent, intelligent, hardworking and sincere, but they were both too young for marriage. Too uninformed about it. Judging by Susan’s reaction, she wasn’t likely to heed his advice. He hated to think of her making the same mistakes he had, but there didn’t seem to be any help for it. He might as well mend the bridges of communication before they became irreparable.
“Is something wrong?” Susan asked Savannah as they went over the details for the wedding. It bothered her how careful Susan and Kurt had to be with their money, but she admired the couple’s discipline. Each decision had been painstaking.
“I’m sorry.” Savannah’s mind clearly wasn’t on the subject at hand. It had taken a sharp turn in another direction the moment Susan had shown up for their appointment. She reminded Savannah so much of her brother. Susan and Nash had the same eye and hair color, but they were alike in other ways, as well. The way Susan smiled and her easy laugh were Nash’s trademarks.
Savannah had worked hard to force all thoughts of Nash from her mind. Naively, she felt she’d succeeded, until Susan had come into the shop.
Savannah didn’t know what it was about this hard-headed cynic that attracted her so strongly. She resented the fact that he was the one to ignite the spark of her sensual nature. There was no future for them. Not when their views on love and marriage were so diametrically opposed.
“Savannah,” Susan asked, “are you feeling okay?”
“Of course. I’m sorry, my thoughts seem to be a thousand miles away.”
“I noticed,” Susan said with a laugh.
Her mood certainly seemed to have improved since their previous meeting, Savannah noticed, wishing she could say the same. Nash hadn’t contacted her since their last disastrous confrontation a few days earlier. Not that she’d expected he would.
Susan had entered the small dressing room and stepped into the wedding gown. She came out, lifting her hair at the back so Savannah could fasten the long row of pearl buttons.
“I’m having lunch with Nash on Thursday,” Susan announced unexpectedly.
“I’m glad you two have patched up your differences.”
Susan’s shoulders moved in a reflective sigh. “We haven’t exactly—at least, not yet. I called him to apologize for hanging up on him. He must have been eager to talk to me because his assistant told me he was due in court and I shouldn’t expect to hear from him until that afternoon. He phoned back no more than five minutes later.”
“He loves you very much.” Savannah’s fingers expertly fastened the pearl buttons. Nash had proved he was capable of caring deeply for another human being, yet he staunchly denied the healing power of love, wouldn’t allow it into his own life.
Perhaps you’re doing the same thing.
The thought came at her like the burning flash from a laser gun, too fast to avoid, and too painful to ignore. Savannah shook her head to chase away the doubts. It was ridiculous. She’d purposely chosen a career that was steeped in romance. To suggest she was blocking love from her own life was ludicrous. Yet the accusation repeated itself over and over….
“Savannah?”
“I’m finished,” she said quickly. Startled, she stepped back.
Susan dropped her arms and shook her hair free before slowly turning around to face Savannah. “Well?” she asked breathlessly. “What do you think?”
Although she was still preoccupied with a series of haunting doubts, Savannah couldn’t help admiring how beautiful Nash’s sister looked in the bridal gown. “Oh, Susan, you’re lovely.”
The young woman viewed herself in the mirror, staring at her reflection for several minutes as if she wasn’t sure she could believe what she was seeing.
“I’m going to ask Nash to attend the wedding when we have lunch,” she said. Then, biting her lip, she added, “I’m praying he’ll agree to that much.”
“He should.” Savannah didn’t want to build up Susan’s expectations. She honestly couldn’t predict what Nash would say; she only knew what she thought he should do.
“He seemed pleased to hear from me,” Susan went on to say.
“I’m sure he was.” They stood beside each other in front of the mirror. Neither seemed inclined to move. Savannah couldn’t speak for Susan, but for her part, the mirror made the reality of her situation all too clear. Her tailored pants might not reveal her scarred and twisted leg, but she remained constantly aware of it, a not-so-gentle reminder of her deficiency.
“Let me know what Nash says,” Savannah said impulsively just before Susan left the shop.
“I will.” Susan’s eyes shone with a childlike enthusiasm as she turned and walked away.
Savannah sat at her desk and wrote down the pertinent facts about the wedding gown she was ordering for Susan, but as she moved the pen across the paper, her thoughts weren’t on dress measurements. Instead they flew straight to Nash. If nothing else, he’d given her cause to think over her life and face up to a few uncomfortable truths. That wasn’t a bad day’s work for a skeptical divorce attorney. It was unfortunate he’d never realize the impact he’d had on her.
Nash was waiting in the booth at quarter after twelve on Thursday, anxiously glancing at his watch every fifteen seconds, convinced Susan wasn’t going to show, when she strolled into the restaurant. A smile lit her face when she saw him. It was almost as if they’d never disagreed, and she was a kid again coming to her big brother for advice.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said, slipping into the vinyl seat across from him. “I’m starved.” She reached for a salted chip, weighing it down with spicy salsa.
“It’s good to see you,” Nash ventured, taking the first step toward reconciliation. He’d missed Susan and he said so.
“I’ve missed you, too. It doesn’t feel right for us to fight, does it?”
“Not at all.”
“You’re the only real family I have.”
“I feel the same way. We’ve both made mistakes and we should learn from them.” He didn’t cast blame. There was no point.
The waitress brought their menus. Nash didn’t recognize the young woman, which made him consider just how long it was since he’d had lunch with Susan. Frowning, he realized she’d been the one to approach him about a reconciliation, when as the older, more mature adult, he should’ve been working toward that end himself.
“I brought you something,” Susan said, setting her handbag on the table. She rooted through it until she found what she was looking for. Taking the envelope from her purse, she handed it to him.
Nash accepted the envelope, peeled it open and pulled out a handcrafted wedding invitation, written on antique-white parchment paper in gold letters. He didn’t realize his sister knew calligraphy. Although it was obviously handmade, the effort was competent and appealing to the eye.
“I wrote it myself,” Susan said eagerly. “Savannah suggested Kurt and I would save money by making our own wedding invitations. It’s much more personal this way, don’t you think?”
“Very nice.”
“The gold ink on the pa
rchment paper was Kurt’s idea. Savannah gave me a book on calligraphy and I’ve been practicing every afternoon.”
He wondered how many more times his sister would find an excuse to drag the wedding coordinator’s name into their conversation. Each time Susan mentioned Savannah it brought up unwelcome memories of their few short times together. Memories Nash would rather forget.
“Do you like it?” Susan asked eagerly. She seemed to be waiting for something more.
“You did a beautiful job,” he said.
“I’m really glad you think so.”
Susan was grinning under the warmth of his praise.
The waitress returned and they placed their order, although neither of them had looked at the menu. “We’re certainly creatures of habit, aren’t we?” his sister teased.
“So,” he said, relaxing in the booth, “how are the wedding plans going?”
“Very well, thanks to Savannah.” She folded her hands on top of the table, flexing her long fingers against each other, studying him, waiting.
Nash read over the invitation a second time and saw that it had been personally written to him. So this was the purpose of her phone call, the purpose of this lunch. She was asking him if he’d attend her wedding, despite his feelings about it.
“I don’t expect you to change your mind about me marrying Kurt,” Susan said anxiously, rushing the words together in her eagerness to have them said. “But it would mean the world to me if you’d attend the ceremony. There won’t be a lot of people there. Just a few friends and Kurt’s immediate family. That’s all we can afford. Savannah’s been wonderful, showing us how to get the most out of our limited budget. Will you come to my wedding, Nash?”
Nash knew when he was involved in a losing battle. Susan would marry Kurt with or without his approval. His kid sister was determined to do this her way. He’d done his best to talk some sense into her, but to no avail. He’d made the mistake of threatening her, and she’d called his bluff. The past weeks had been miserable for them both.
“I’ll come.”