A Dream to Cling To (7 page)

“Well, lots of reasons, not the least being that I like sitting in this crowded van with you.”

“And the other reasons?”

“I like that place. They’re great folks. And in between times you tell me things that are interesting and useful for the game.”

“I do?”

“Yep. And I also have a much stronger feeling for the Winters family as a whole by being with you, a feeling for how your father raised you, what he was like as a father, that sort of thing.”

“You’d make a fine private eye, Sam Lawrence,” she said with a laugh. “But somehow it’s a little disconcerting to know someone is picking up on everything I say, storing it away, and doing heaven knows what with it.”

“Oh, you’ll know before heaven does. You’re going to have to check everything. My instincts and perceptions are usually pretty much on target, or at least I like to think so, but I do need you to double-check. You’re the real key to this game, Brittany.”

She pulled the car into the parking lot of the clinic
and switched off the engine. And what responsibilities did being the key to the game embrace? she wondered. “Well, Sam, I guess I can handle that, as long as it’s as painless as it was today.”

He was still for a minute as he watched her face in the shadows of the car. He didn’t want her to get out, to move away from him, and the force of the realization threw him into uncharacteristic silence.

“So …” She wrapped her fingers around the car keys and pulled them out of the ignition. “I guess it’s fine if you want to come along to the Elms.”

He nodded, and a pleasing warmth filled him at the thought of spending more days this way, wandering through Brittany’s life with her. In fact, he could think of little at that moment he’d prefer.

“Sam?” She was looking at him intently. “I think it’ll work fine if you want to come along.”

His pensiveness disappeared and he directed his full attention to her. “Fine. We’re a good pair, don’t you think?”

“Well, the folks did like you, I’ll admit to that.”

“And you like me—better than yesterday at least.”

It wasn’t a question but she nodded anyway, laughing away the tightness tugging inside her. “Sure, Sam. Who wouldn’t like you? You’re a charmer.”

“Then I haven’t been too much of a pest.”

She looked at his lopsided smile and shook her head. “Of course not. I’ve enjoyed the day.”

“How much?”

“How much? If this is another game, Sam, I think I may have played it in junior high.”

His hand rested on her shoulder. “No game, Brittany. I was simply wondering if you enjoyed it as much as I did.”

Her heart started to pound heavily. “Well, Sam, on a scale of one to ten …”

His hand strayed from her shoulder up beneath the
pony tail, where he gently rubbed the tender skin on her neck. “On a scale of one to ten …?”

“It was definitely at least a seven-plus day. And maybe, after I’ve had a chance to think it through, maybe I’ll give it an eight.”

He nodded slowly. “I’d say an eight for sure.”

His fingers were working magic on her neck and she wanted to stop talking and let herself fall into the delicious feel of his caress. “Oh, Sam, that’s wonderful,” she murmured. “You’re heading for an eight-plus.”

“Hmmm, you’re easy to please, Brittany Winters.” As he continued to massage her neck, his gaze wandered around the inside of the van. “I used to have a van like this when I was in high school.”

“Oh?”

“It was much older and had been through several lifetimes before I inherited her, but she was dependable. I used it to deliver old Mr. Wassink’s groceries to his customers.”

She nodded, a slow smile curving her lips. “I see.” One tiny part of her urged her to open the door and fall out into the cold, stabilizing air. But it was so tiny, so dim, that it barely mattered. And the larger part of her gave in to the enchantment, to staying and talking and enjoying the lovely feeling of Sam’s fingers smoothing out the fine hair on her neck. It felt so
good
. She lifted her lids and saw the smiles that spilled from his eyes.

“Being in a van again makes me feel like a teenager,” he said.

She kept her gaze on his face.

“Remember when you used to neck in a car?”

She laughed but didn’t move. “Yes. Forgotten youth.”

His voice grew husky. “I don’t want to scare you or mess this up, Brittany, but I want more than anything right this minute to take you in my arms and kiss you. Do you know what I mean?”

It all seemed to happen in slow motion then, her dreamy, understanding nod, his sliding closer on the
cold seat, his hand gently cupping her face, and then his lips hungrily covering hers with strong, persuasive passion. He pulled away once, just a fraction of an inch. She took in a quick breath of air, but was waiting when he returned, his lips pressing firmly, his tongue moving until she opened her mouth slightly and let him feed the flowering within her.

When at last he pulled away, she wasn’t ready at all for the cooling distance. She took in a lungful of air and wound her fingers around the cold steering wheel. “But something’s different, Sam,” she said gravely.

“Different?”

“I don’t have the urge to run inside to call my best friend.” She managed a small grin.

“I know what you’re saying. What do you think it means?”

She brushed her hair back, then rested her hand briefly on his arm. “I think it’s Dr. Frank. He put some kind of a spell on us this morning with his talking about autumn and winter meshing together.” She looked over toward the clinic and noticed two of the volunteers leaving the building, coming to help unload the animals.

Sam followed her gaze. “Yep, maybe that’s it. Musta been. I’ve never been ‘spelled’ before. I think I like it.”

She studied him closely. She liked it too. Much more than she dared admit.

“Not being very familiar with this particular type of spell,” he continued, “or what the remedy is, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what happens.” He reached across her and opened her door. He stayed there for a moment, his chest angled toward her breasts, his face just inches from hers. “Agreed?”

When she nodded, her forehead brushed his. “That’s what we get for acting like teenagers.”

He laughed as he slid back across the seat. “Maybe youth knows something we don’t.”

He swung his body from the van and Brittany slipped out on the opposite side. Maybe youth did, she mused.

The volunteers were already opening the back of the van and she took one more calming breath of air. Then she waved good-bye to Sam as he headed for his car. There was a caring in his eyes that wrapped around her tightly as he waved back. She knew it wasn’t a spell at all. And whatever it was, she had a feeling it would be far more difficult to break.

Far more difficult.

Even if it had been a spell, Brittany decided with a wonderful sense of confidence several days later, she was handling it just fine. She had no need for a cure, nor did she want one. If nothing was broken, why fix it? She accepted the days with Sam as easily as the sunshine and laughter that seemed to come with them.

Sam flirted as naturally as he breathed, but no harm was done. Everything was turning out fine, including the game, which, Sam said, was moving along at a steady clip.

And now, after two hours of traipsing through an old factory with Sam, she not only knew a lot about games, but they were both nearly experts on the fine art of umbrella-making.

“Did you really want to see how all those umbrellas were made?” she asked. She tilted her head back to catch the rays of the late afternoon sun as she and Sam emerged from the large two-story factory. A toasty warmth ran through her. It had been a good day. They’d completed their fourth day of Petpals visits, and had even managed a trip to this wonderful old factory where her father had worked so many years before.

“Those aren’t just umbrellas, Brittany. Those are
umbrellas
—works of art. It was fascinating, didn’t you think? And the guys on the assembly line were terrific.”

“And you asked enough questions to steal all their secrets and start your own company. I don’t think they know quite what to make of you, Sam.”

“Well, Brittany …” He slipped one arm around her shoulders and whispered teasingly against her cheek, “It didn’t matter what they thought of me, because you were my ticket. They thought you were a present from the gods.”

“Oh, Sam!” she groaned. “Don’t you ever stop?”

“Nope,” he answered with the same disarming smile that played havoc with her concentration at the nursing homes. “And those good men also think a great deal about one Gordon Winters. Did you catch all those tales about the days when he managed the plant?”

She nodded, her thoughts settling somewhere between his words and the nice feel of his body so close to hers.

“Well, they loved him. I especially liked that story the older gent told about him bringing in a donkey on election day.”

She laughed, remembering. “And afterward he raffled it off and gave the money to some fellow who had lost nearly everything in a poker game.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t adopt it for Petpals.”

“I wasn’t born yet.”

“Ah. I knew there had to be a logical reason.” His laugh rippled through the crisp autumn air. “You know, Brittany, I’m looking forward to meeting your father.”

“You two will get along fine. And I know he’ll like the game, no matter what I said about poker.”

He grinned and without a thought hugged her close, then released her just enough so they could walk along through the late afternoon shadows. “You’re a pushover, you know. It’s taken less than a week to make a believer out of you.”

“Now don’t count your chickens, Lawrence,” she
said, her loose hair rubbing against the soft wool of his jacket. “I simply said he would like the game. However, he’ll probably never
play
it.”

They had reached Sam’s small Volkswagen and he held open the door for her to get in. “Shall we wager a bet, my sweet Brittany?”

“I don’t gamble, Sam.” She slipped into the car and looked back up into his laughing eyes. “Sorry.”

“Never?”

She kept her smile in place, but her mind slipped back over the years. Never? She had gambled once, a long time ago … And she had lost. But it was so very long ago. A lifetime ago … “Oh, I guess it depends, Sam. I’ll gamble on sure winners … maybe.”

He strode around to the other side of the car and got in next to her. “Then it’s a bet.” He leaned over and brushed a quick kiss across her cheek to seal it, then straightened and started the engine. “Except you’re on the wrong side of the fence for this one.”

Brittany scolded away the uncomfortable stirrings inside her. They were talking about games, after all. Nothing more, nothing less. And Sam was right: it was a sure winner. The game … nothing else …

“Hungry?” he asked.

He was studying her, his eyes reading deep. But his smile was so gentle, she settled back against the seat and nodded easily, the unsettling feeling beginning to vanish. “Yes.”

“Good. And it’s no small wonder. I’ve dragged you from here to kingdom come today.” He reached over and playfully tickled her knee. He’d seen the look that had shadowed her smile a second ago, a distant look, and he wanted to chase it away. His fingers danced a jig on her knee. “Thanks for coming with me, Brittany.”

Her heart was beating to his touch and she only smiled in answer.

“I needed you there beside me in those places.” His fingers settled on her leg. “I needed you to charm those
men into baring their souls—and to coax them into sifting through dusty memories. And you did it, Brittany.” His husky voice deepened dramatically and he swept his hand through the air with a flourish. “You were, in a word, mag-ni-fi-cent!”

“Oh, Sam, hush. Such drama. Were you ever on the stage?”

“Always.”

She laughed, and he laughed, and together the sound sparked the air until Brittany felt it beneath her skin and running through her veins.

“Now, fair maiden, what kind of gourmet masterpiece would delight you?”

“Hmmm, let me think.”

When he pulled up to a stoplight, Sam looked over and noticed that she had closed her eyes. Her gold-tipped lashes rested so quietly on her skin, she could have been asleep. Waves of bronze hair tumbled loosely onto her brilliant blue turtleneck. Her breasts rose and fell rhythmically beneath the soft fabric. His breath caught. She was so damn lovely and vulnerable-looking. He’d had to fight his baser instincts for days now, and wondered if it would get easier. He doubted it.

With his eyes he traced the delicate curve of her cheekbones and the dusting of freckles across her nose. They were so temptingly sweet, he had a sudden urge to kiss each one. The thought brought a slow smile to his face and he shifted involuntarily in the seat. Ah, Brittany, he thought. Trusting, beautiful Brittany. What in the name of all that’s right in the universe was she doing to him?

That same sudden shift in emotions that had been ailing him for several days came back in full force and caused a tightening between his eyebrows and a flash of warning in his head. He couldn’t quite put words to the feeling, but it was Brittany—all Brittany—of that he was more than sure. It had been almost instant, the attraction he felt for her, and it burned inside of him
now. He felt her presence in the darnedest places. It was Brittany he saw in the glassy surface of the river when he ran along its edge early in the morning; and it was a copper-haired beauty with a smile as fresh as daffodils who ruffled his thoughts when he considered the next few months of his life. He had no right or reason to put her there in the middle of his mind like that.