Page 555 of Summer Heat
Taking a breath, she smiled. “Don’t ever think you’re a bad man because you’re honest enough to be who you are.”
Then, before he could react, she stood up. “It’s probably time for you to go home.”
For a minute, he didn’t move. Then he stood up, kissed her lightly and moved toward his jacket. There was a curious stiffness in his movements that contrasted sharply with his usual long-limbed grace. He paused at the door. “If I were another kind of man, I’d have married you the second time I met you.”
Tamara bowed her head at the longing that gave her. When she looked up again, he was closing the front door behind him. And this time, he was truly gone.
* * *
For days, Lance moved through his life in a dark cocoon. He snapped at employees, broke the dates his brother had made for him and snarled at everyone who got in his path. His mother told him not to come back to visit until he had a better attitude. His secretary tiptoed in and out of his office without a word.
Friday night was the dance at the country club to which he’d promised to escort Marissa. As he donned his good Italian suit, he wished fervently he could avoid the whole thing. But a promise was a promise, and whatever else anybody said about him, he kept his word.
To his surprise, just seeing Marissa’s calm, luminescent face eased something in him. “I feel compelled to warn you,” he said as she got in the car, “that wild boars have been fleeing my path lately.”
She grinned. “Bad mood, huh?”
“That’s putting it mildly.” He kissed her cheek. “You look especially nice tonight. I like that color on you.”
“Thanks.” She smoothed the ruby-colored fabric over her thighs. “My mother always told me I should never wear pastels. Turns out she was right about one thing, anyway.”
The sound of a motorcycle broke the night, and a chopped, gleaming Harley growled into Marissa’s parking place. “That’s Bob,” she said. “I wonder why he’s here tonight. I told him we were going.” A frown knitted her creamy brow. “Do you mind waiting a moment? I should talk to him.”
“Go ahead.” Lance glanced at Bob, the burly biker who’d worn leather and chains at the Wild Moose. Tonight he was dressed in a clean black suit, with a red tie. His long curly hair had been wet and wrestled into a neat ponytail. In his hands was a bouquet of flowers.
Marissa moved toward him in her beautiful cocktail dress, her dark hair shining around her luminescent face, and Lance saw that she was desperately in love. That both of them were. She halted in front of him, and Bob thrust the flowers at her, obviously not entirely comfortable with the gesture. Marissa, in her open way, bent her head to the flowers and breathed deeply.
In ten seconds, Lance knew he wasn’t taking Marissa to the dance. Sure enough, she talked for a while, then came back to the car. Bob headed inside.
She got in and sat down. “Bob wants to take me to the dance at the country club. He really didn’t want to, which is why I asked you, but I think—” a dazzled, pleased expression crossed her face “—he really likes me.”
“Don’t sound so surprised! You’re a hell of a woman. Go ahead and go.”
“Are you sure you won’t think I’m a cad?”
He chuckled. “I’m sure.”
“I have a few minutes. Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?”
The sudden question, put so clearly, nearly made Lance choke up. “I’m just in love,” he admitted. “Nothing a little time won’t cure.”
“With Tamara?”
“Yeah.” He clenched his jaw tight to keep his emotions from rising out and spilling into his throat. “Yeah, she’s the one.”
Marissa cocked her head. “So, what’s the problem? I don’t get it. You’re in love with her, she’s in love with you—this is a problem?”
“I’m not that kind of man.”
“What kind?”
“Reliable. Decent. All those warm fuzzy things a woman like her needs.”
Marissa laughed. “You’ve been listening to your own reputation for way too long, Mr. Forrest. You might have been a bad boy a long time ago, but all I’ve seen in you is a rock-solid steadiness. You’re aching to take care of her, to have a family and settle down.” She grinned. “Just do it.”
“What if I end up like my father? What if I let her down?”
“Your mother will kick your butt.”
