Bluebells on the Hill (18 page)

When it was time to leave, Amanda and
John-Michael were first to the truck, but had to wait for Mac, who
had walked Sally to her car. As they sat in the truck and watched
them, John-Michael said,

'Sally would like to marry Dad, you
know.'

‘
Do you like her?' Amanda asked. She
did know, it was very obvious.

"She's all right. She's been after Dad for
years.' He was quiet for a moment. 'I don't think he'll ever marry
her, though. He's never even kissed her.'

'You don't know that.' Amanda's face grew
warm; she was grateful for the night's cloaking darkness. Mac had
kissed her several times. She licked her lips in remembrance.
John-Michael only knew of one time. Amanda wouldn't mind if Mac
kissed her again. She shook her head; what was she thinking of?

'I know, Mandy,' the boy said definitely.

What could she say to that? There was no
need. Mac gave a final wave and moved to join them in the truck.
Amanda was achingly aware of Mac when he climbed in. His leg was
only inches from hers, his arm almost touching her as he drove the
pickup through the blackness, the headlights the only illumination
on this moonless night.

Reaching her cabin, he stopped the truck with
the lights illuminating the steps and front door. Amanda drew her
key from her handbag before getting out.

'I'll walk you up,' Mac said.

John-Michael let Amanda out of his door.
'Good night, Mandy,' he said, climbing back in the truck, and
turning on the radio while he waited for his father.

'Thank you for taking me.' Amanda reached the
front door and unlocked it. Just as the door swung open, the lights
of the truck went out, plunging them into total darkness.

'What the hell ... John-Michael!' Mac turned
and roared at his son.

Amanda gave a small giggle. 'He's just being
tactful.'

'What does that mean?' Mac's voice lost some
of its anger.

She swallowed. 'Only that John-Michael
thought we might be more comfortable saying good night in the
dark.' Amanda trailed off, realizing where that might lead.

Mac's hand brushed her cheek, found her
shoulders, and drew her slowly up to him.

'He's smarter than I thought,' he said softy,
lowering his head to hers.

Amanda thrilled at his touch, reveled in the
feel of his fingers as they threaded themselves in her hair, drew
themselves through the silken strands. He tilted her head to suit
him, thumbs along her jaw bone, as his mouth came down to hers. His
lips were warm and persuasive, drawing a willing response from her
as she twined her arms around his neck. His tongue moved to invade
the softness of her mouth, to tease and tantalize her, causing
sensations she had known only once before. In his embrace. Eagerly
she returned his pressure, opening her mouth to his assault, losing
track of time as the kiss deepened and went on and on.

'I want you, Mandy,' he said harshly against
her mouth, his breath mingling with hers.

She felt a small frisson of pleasure course
through her. 'John-Michael,' she protested.

'I know.' He kissed her again and again, his
arms locked around her back, pulling her hard against him. Over and
over his mouth took hers, his lips hard and demanding, his tongue
filling her senses with a heady feeling of his passion.

'Not tonight, but soon. I mean to have you,'
he said, in between kisses. He trailed his lips down her throat,
back to her cheek, finding her mouth again. ‘You’re so beautiful.
Do you know what effect that has on a man?’

Amanda could breathe in the scent of him, of
the cologne he was wearing tonight. His hard body against hers was
exciting and disturbing. She wanted Mac to keep kissing her, to
move his hands as he had the other time. For the moment to go on
and on. Forget about John-Michael. Forget about everything, save
the feelings Mac could cause. Save Mac.

Finally, reluctantly, slowly, he eased his
hold, drew back. With one last, brief kiss, only lips touching, he
turned and left.

The truck reversed and reached the main drive
before Mac turned on the headlights, sparing Amanda the harsh
glare. She watched the lights disappear through the trees, thoughts
churning. Lightly she traced her mouth with her tongue, her lips
just slightly swollen from the pressure of his kisses. A smile
lifted the corners of her mouth. What a wonderful end to an
evening. And there was promise of ... of what?

She had a sudden, dreadful thought. What if
Mac thought she went in for casual sex. Just because he thought her
a hippie, did he also think she went in for love-ins, and all the
other casual relations the old hippie image held?

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The telephone installation man woke Amanda
early the next morning. He was a cheery old man, talked steadily as
he wired the cabin from a line he had already strung outside.
Amanda liked him, made him coffee and listened to his tales of
various customers and the ingenuity it had taken for him to connect
some of their remote dwellings with the lines from the local
telephone company. Hers, in comparison, was an easy morning's
work.

When the man had finished and gone, Amanda
used her new phone to call Dave. After giving him her new number,
she continued, 'Do me a favor and check on the status of my
furniture. It was so hectic coming back from Nashville and trying
to arrange for them to move my stuff up and still get back up here
on the day I said I would, I don't have a definite idea of where it
is and when it’s due to arrive.'

'I'll check it out right away and let you
know,' he promised. 'By the way, I got two new songs from Bob Clive
that you might want to hear. I thought they would be good for the
new album, if you like them.'

'Sounds promising, what are they like?' Bob
Clive was a songwriter whose music Amanda especially enjoyed
performing. He had written several of her most successful songs and
she was always eager to try his work when he wrote another one for
her.

'One's a ballad, the other one’s fast, like
Boatman's Shanty Boy. When can you try them? Shall I send them up
to you? Did you take your laptop?'

'No, no service up here. Just mail them. Give
me a few days to check them out and I’ll call you. I've written
another one, too. I don't know how you'll like it, though.' The
song Dave would probably like, the sentiment was really what she
thought he wouldn't like.

'It's probably good; why wouldn't it be? They
usually are. I talked to the others about Labor Day. We'll be up in
Timber the morning of your festival, full gear and all. It's a noon
show, right?'

'Actually I think Miss Burke said two
o’clock. Close enough, I guess. You should be here by late morning
so we can set up. We can have a picnic, too. How's Evie?'

'Big as a house. She won't make the picnic.
I'll let you know when I'm a daddy. Thanks for the number. I'll
call you about the furniture as soon as I find out.'

'Thanks. Hi to all.'

Amanda hung up slowly. A phone was certainly
an added asset to her cabin. Now she could have the best of both
words, rural living, yet instant contact with whoever she wanted to
talk to regarding business. Perhaps she could work it so plans and
transactions could be handled, at least preliminarily, by
phone.

Wandering out to the deck, she drew up a
chair, tilted back, feet on the railing. Maybe she'd even get cable
in one day and be able to use her laptop again. She could imagine
conducting business from her deck! What a set up!

Gazing out at the trees, she thought of what
she and Dave had discussed. She had a new song, but was wondering
how he would take the message it gave. Idly, she hummed it through,
then again. It was good. She went to get paper, pencil and her
guitar. The music had been in her head all summer, the words
gradually growing as the days passed. She hummed it again,
strumming the guitar.

Time drifted by as she worked on the lyrics,
the tempo. It was almost finished, but she wanted it to be perfect
before singing it for the band. She wanted to present it at its
best. At one point her pulses quickened when she thought she heard
the motor of the big gray pick-up, but nothing came into view and
she grinned ruefully. No more wishful thinking; concentrate on the
work at hand.

It grew warmer as the sun reached its zenith.
Amanda was clad in the usual jeans and a buttoned cotton shirt. Her
feet were bare and, as she sat with them on the railing, she
considered going inside to change. Shorts would be much more
appropriate in the hot afternoon. But first, she'd perfect this
last section.

Preoccupied with the composition, Amanda
failed to hear the truck when it really did approach, until it was
actually turning into her drive.

Throat dry, heart tripping, she stood up,
placing her music face down on the table. It might be John-Michael,
he drove the truck sometimes. A smile lit her face, however, as Mac
climbed out and strode to the deck.

Amanda moved to meet him. 'Hi, what brings
you by?'

'Messenger service,' he replied, skipping
stairs, joining her on the deck, his eyes raking her figure,
reminding her of the first time they met. His look did not anger
her this time, quite the contrary; she was warmed and excited by
it.

'Aunt Elizabeth’s having a group meeting next
week about the festival. She wants you to come if you can. I don't
know why she didn't let you know last night, unless they just
decided this morning. Anyway, she asked me to come by and let you
know.'

'When is it?'

'Next Tuesday, about ten.'

'If I can get there,' she said
diffidently.

'If you want a ride, this time you have to
ask for it,' he said, staring down at her.

'I do. May I get a lift from you to your
aunt's next Tuesday?' she asked sweetly, looking up at the
narrowed, gleaming green eyes. He was devastatingly attractive; did
he have any idea of the feelings his mere presence caused her? She
moved just a little closer, smiling provocatively up to him,
flirting.

'Yeah, I'll give you a ride.' He watched her
as she drew near, a small glint of amusement showing.

'It's hot out here, care for some lemonade? I
have some made.'

'Sounds good.'

Amanda moved to enter the cabin, conscious of
Mac's closeness, of his following her inside, closing the door to
the day's heat. She looked back, caught in his gaze.

Sweeping his hat off, he tossed it on to the
table. Extending one arm, he stopped her move to the kitchen,
turned her around to face him. Amanda remembered what he had said
last night, suddenly felt butterflies in her stomach. She licked
her lips, waiting for his next move.

'Mandy,' he said huskily, pulling her close,
sheltering her in his embrace.

'Yes?' she whispered as he lowered his head,
reaching down to cover her mouth with his. Amanda felt a sudden
surge of pleasure; she reached up to encircle his neck with her
arm, threading her fingers through his thick, wavy hair. It was
crisp and smooth as her fingers buried themselves in it. Mac's lips
were firm and warm, moving against hers.

His hands pulled her tight against him,
molding her slight frame against the length of him, his mouth
claiming all conscious thought from her. Slowly he moved his hand
up and down her back, pulling back just a little in surprise.

'Don't you ever wear a bra?' he murmured
huskily.

Amanda smiled and moved closer. 'Not when I'm
relaxing alone at home.'

'But you're not alone now.'

'Nor very relaxed,' she murmured back as he
claimed her mouth again, one hand slipping beneath the back of her
loose-fitting shirt, his fingers warm against her soft smooth skin.
As he explored her back, she shivered with delight and
anticipation, a strong feeling of desire growing within her with
the feather light caresses he made against her skin with his hand,
his other hand holding her head firmly for his kisses.

She reveled in them, responded to his kisses,
tracing his mouth with her tongue, meeting his thrust with her own,
scarcely aware of anything but Mac's mouth on hers and his hands on
her body.

He raised his head and glanced around. 'Why
don't you have a sofa like everyone else, so we could sit down?' he
growled, his voice low.

'Cushions are fine.' Amanda led him over,
trailing her hands down his arms as she lowered herself to one of
the large soft cushions near the wall. Mac, beside her, drew her up
against him, his touch thrilling, exciting. On and on the kiss
went, slowly warming Amanda, slowly awakening vague desires and
longings. Mac pulled back, looking into her eyes, holding them as
he slowly reached out to unbutton her shirt, his fingers brushing
against her bare skin as he fumbled with the unfamiliar task.

Amanda trembled slightly, could feel her
insides begin to melt when he opened her shirt, reaching again for
her. His mouth claimed hers as his fingers gently traced the curves
and valleys of her body. She moved to draw closer to him, but he
held her off a little, his hand wandering down her breast, across
to the other, back to her throat. Down again. She moved beneath his
hands, caught in the sensations and longings Mac drew from her. He
moved to the fastener of her jeans. She caught her breath as he
eased down the zipper.

Slowly Amanda unbuttoned his checked shirt,
moving then to embrace him, her bare breasts pressing warmly
against his chest. Mac drew her in his arms and slowly pulled her
back on top of him as he lay against the cushions.

The feel of Mac's skin beneath her lingers,
his mouth evoking wonderful sensations, caused time to stand still,
her head to spin. She wanted him. When he gently rubbed his
knuckles down her ribs, near her breasts, she gave a sigh of pure
happiness. Soon, soon she would be complete. This yearning, this
desire growing within her would be assuaged. She began to tremble a
little when he rolled her on her back. She wasn't afraid, just
unsure exactly what to expect.