Night Mares in the Hamptons (32 page)

My credit card slips were already daunting, so I went to the pet store and bought Little Red a new collar. That was only fair, wasn't it, since I was going out without him? I bought chews for all the dogs, and went to the bookstore to see if they'd reordered my new book. There it was on the shelf, three copies this time. I was rich again.

And well dressed. Ty stood rooted to the floor in the doorway of my house. “Maybe dinner's not such a good idea. We should go to a movie where no one else can see you in that . . . that . . .”

I twirled around so he could see the view from the back. His indrawn breath told me what I wanted to know. “That sex goddess outfit?”

“Yeah. That, too. I'm not hungry. Don't feel like driving. My back hurts.”

“I have some chips and beer and a comfy sofa.”

“That works for me.”

I took his arm and pointed him out the door. “Not on your life, cowboy. You think I got all fancied up just for you?” Well, I did, but he didn't have to know that. “You promised me a night on the town, and we're going.”

“How long counts as a night?”

He ran his hand down the smooth fabric of the skimpy dress.

Not long at that rate. I headed for the car.

 

I should have headed in the other direction. Not away from his car, but toward East Hampton instead of Montauk. I forgot what that place was like in the summer. All the fancy restaurants that took reservations were fully booked. The ones that didn't take reservations had lines out the doors. The ones with no lines were mostly ones I wouldn't eat at. The food was bad, the owners had bad reputations, the bars were too noisy or too rough; they were tourist traps.

What the hell, we were tourists tonight. We ate at Gosman's, a huge complex right on the inlet to Montauk Harbor. We didn't eat in the big restaurant itself, but waited ten minutes for a table at one of its satellites, Top Side, that was on the roof of the clam bar and overlooked the jetties, the fishing docks, the beach across the way, and the sunset. That's why all the tourists were here. That and the lobsters.

I wore a paper bib. Damned if I was going to ruin this dress at one wearing. Ty had managed to get through three decades of life without eating a lobster, so he ordered one, too. Then I had to show him how to eat it. You cannot be serious, or even filled with lust, when wearing a paper bib and dribbling butter down it or getting squirted in the eye when you used the nutcrackers. I suppose watching him suck on a leg could have been a turn-on, if I hadn't been busy trying to winkle the last bit of meat out of the claw. Mostly we laughed and swapped stories about bad meals and bad dates and social mishaps.

While we waited for coffee—we were both too full for dessert—Ty took my hand across the table with its flickering candle in a glass jar. “Thank you. That was a wonderful meal. I don't get to eat with friends that often, traveling as much as I do. This was special.”

I smiled. “Me or your first lobster?”

“Both. I will always remember this night, and this time. And when I think about it, you know what I'll picture? You. You are Paumanok Harbor.” He ran his fingers through my hair, that I'd spent an hour getting just right. “The gold of the sun.” Then he stared at my eyes. “The blue of the sky. That gauzy thing you're wearing is the water, and that dress is the green of the fields and the woods.” He leaned over and kissed me. “And your lips are a rare delicacy, dipped in butter.”

I couldn't help it. Tears came to my eyes. Not that I'm a weeper. I know men hate that.

Ty jumped back. “What's wrong? Did I say something stupid?”

Not as stupid as me wanting more. “It's just that the night is so perfect. You are so perfect. And you'll be leaving soon.”

His eyes lowered to study where he had his hand over mine. He nodded. “As soon as the show is over. I can have my lawyers handle the details of the land, but I have other commitments. My work, promises to horse breeders, shows scheduled.”

“I know. I am just being silly.”

He touched his thumb to my eye, wiping away the moisture. And the makeup I'd spent another half hour on. “Not silly. You're being loving, because that is the way you are. I'll be back when it's time to build, or to move horses onto the ranch.”

“It won't be the same.”

“Life goes on. But what we have doesn't have to end. We don't have to end. Come with me, Willow. Come see how you'd like life on the road. New places, new people.” He crumpled his paper bib. “New tastes to savor. New memories.”

Me, who hated to stay in hotels, to fly in airplanes? Who had bad dreams about taxi drivers with eye patches? “What would I do while you are training horses or performing?”

“You could write your books, or go sightseeing or shopping. You could do whatever you want.”

Except walk the beach with the dogs, stay in one place until I'd seen everything, grow my own pot of tomatoes. And for how long? “Until you moved on.”

I didn't mean to another city and Ty knew it. He rubbed his thumb over the palm of my hand. “I've never felt like this about a woman before. Like wanting to be with her, just be with her, after I've been in her bed. Like this. Friends. Companions. Lovers. For as long as we both want. I didn't know it could be this way, so fast, so sure. I know I don't want to leave you. At least think about coming with me.”

“I will.” We both knew I wouldn't.

There wasn't much else to say, so we sipped our coffees in silence. You could hear the lapping of the waves against the dock, and every once in a while the engine of a boat going by with its lights on. The seagulls were gone for the night to wherever seagulls slept. If not for the fifty or so other diners, we could be alone.

While we waited for the check, a woman about my age asked for Ty's autograph. She had to be a tourist. The locals knew better than to bother a celebrity like that. That's why the big names all came here.

The woman said she'd seen both of his shows in Las Vegas, and she'd bought his video of the master class in dressage. When she started to tell him about her half-Arabian gelding, without once looking at me, Ty cut her off with information about the upcoming show at Paumanok Harbor. I worried the female would fall over the railing she was so excited. She rushed back to her table to tell her friends, and you could see the buzz spreading through the crowd like wind through beach grass.

He really was famous. Maybe not a household name—not my household, anyway—but enough that two more people came over to ask for an autograph or if he was going to be training at any of the local stables and could they come watch. Even a guy I recognized from the polo club came to shake his hand. The jerk smiled at me, without recognition.

While Ty was talking to his fans, a woman came toward me with a paper napkin and a pen. I was proud, I was a star, I was somebody. Until she asked where I got my shawl.

Things went downhill after that. Literally. One of my brand-new sandals caught in a gap on the stairway planks down to the dock level. The heel broke off, and I lost my balance. The maitre d' was coming up the stairs with a bottle of champagne from the bar below.

Not good.

The maitre d' screamed. I screamed. The bottle and I both went flying. Then Ty caught my arm with one hand, the bottle with the other.

The people milling around the clam bar and the shops all applauded. I heard someone say it was a miraculous save. Someone else said Paumanok Harbor and four people nodded. The maitre d' wouldn't take the bottle of champagne from Ty.

“Compliments of the house. If your lady'd broken her neck on the stairs, we'd have been liable for a lot more.”

My mother always said I had disasters like this because I was so talented in other fields. If I were perfect, I'd get a swelled head.

Now I had a swollen ankle. And utter humiliation as fifteen people came to offer a hand.

Where was the mayor when I needed him?

Ty helped me over to a bench on the walkway and set the bottle down beside me. “Stay here.”

What did he think I was going to do, hobble away like that nursery rhyme, one shoe off, one shoe on? I was going to go give that shoe store a piece of my mind, that's what, but tomorrow. Now I unstrapped both shoes. Someone handed me the heel of the broken one.

“Thanks. I'm fine. Thank you. Yes, I was lucky. Thank you.”

I thought Ty had gone for a bag of ice, but he came back with that and an ice cream cone from the store across the walkway, coffee, with chocolate sprinkles.

He raised my leg to his lap and held the ice on my ankle while I ate. “That's what you give a kid who falls off a pony and gets back on. Happens all the time. No harm done,” he said after feeling my foot for breaks.

No harm, except to my ankle, my shoes, and my pride. And I couldn't get back in the saddle to try again. But after the restorative powers of coffee ice cream and Ty's strong arm, I managed to stand and limp back to the car. He offered to carry me. I refused.

We got back some of the night's magic by driving out to the Point, to Montauk's famous lighthouse, the prime tourist destination on the east end. We got out of the car in the parking lot to see better. I leaned back against Ty, with his arms around me. I was glad for the support, glad for the warmth, glad for being here, with him.

Tonight the moon was shining above the tall lighthouse tower, leaving silver ribbons of diamond dust on the water below. With the ocean going on forever, the waves endlessly breaking against the beach, what did a broken shoe matter? We were all tiny grains of sand in the vast sea of the universe anyway.

“Now that is impressive.”

“Almost as impressive as you saving me from a broken skull or something.” I turned in his arms and pulled his head lower for a kiss. Now he tasted like pistachio mint. Not my favorite, but nice. Very nice.

We drove home a lot faster than when we left.

All the lights were off at the house again and the chant was playing from the backyard.

“Just in case,” Ty said. “Connor's watching.”

We went around back, me barefoot in the grass, hoping I'd picked up after the dogs carefully. Connor was on one end of the wicker rocker; Susan was on the other, with as much space between them as physically possible. They were talking quietly, so we left and went into the house.

Ty carried me upstairs. I carried the champagne and two glasses. I saw no reason to mention that my ankle didn't hurt anymore.

While he opened the bottle, I went into the bathroom. Then I did something evil. I went to Susan's room and rummaged through her drawers till I found a black lace camisole and matching tap pants. The top was too big, of course, but Ty already knew what I had, or didn't have, and he never seemed to mind. While I was in Susan's bedroom I used a dash of her perfume and lifted a bottle of body oil.

The lights were out in my bedroom when I got back, with a single candle lit. The champagne was poured into the glasses and Ty's clothes were in a neat pile on the floor, with Little Red curled up on top of them. Ty was lying across my bed naked, his skin glowing in the candlelight. Next week or next month did not matter. He was all mine for tonight.

Except he was fast asleep.

T
HE DAY WAS CLOUDY; MY MOOD WASN'T. There'd been no dreams, just blissful sleep in a big bed with a big man. And a little dog on my other side.

We had sex in the shower, then champagne, orange juice, and Susan's scones. The breakfast of champions.

Susan and Connor were there waiting for us, still keeping distance between them, but on familiar terms. It was Susan's day off, and they were going to the beach.

Ty looked up from the stack of faxes and computer printouts Connor had brought over from Rosehill. He raised one eyebrow.

“The horses are all tended and turned out, the stalls cleaned. I hired Miss Lily's nephew to keep an eye on them while he helps her clean the guesthouse for the stage crew. Susan says he's a good kid. He has my cell phone number and yours.”

Ty raised the other eyebrow.

“And I made the calls I said I would. The Shinnecock Nation dancers are confirmed for the show, and the sheep we had in Atlantic City are on their way. I'm waiting on a call about the herd dog act.”

Ty nodded and went back to his breakfast and his papers. He was having scrambled eggs with his mimosa and muffin.

“Susan is going to teach me to surf.”

Now both of Ty's eyebrows went up.

“I'll be careful.”

“You break an arm, I'll break the other one.”

“That's what you said when I flipped the motorbike last year.”