“And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it.” Roald Dahl
The house sat coyly at the end of the long gravel driveway, a welcome sight as the Camaro rounded a curve and broke from the woods into the clearing. Two stories of rampant Victorian clapboard and gingerbread, complete with wrap around porch and weeping with wisteria, it reminded Colleen of frail old ladies in lawn and lace dresses sipping tea from fragile china cups. The image charmed a smile from her tired face.
After parking in one of the four gravel parking slots alongside the house, she released her seat belt and climbed stiffly from the driver's seat. For a moment she paused and let the peaceful setting ease into her exhausted psyche. Soft summer breezes caressed her skin as birdsong and chattering squirrels soothed her spirit. Oh, how long she had needed a place such as this! As she lifted her purse and suitcase from the back seat, she sent heavenward a silent thanks for the magazine article, about country inns, that she'd read in a doctor's waiting room.
Limping slowly to the porch, she noted the profusion of colorful blossoms that spilled from beds and pots and a multitude of other containers. Cement cherubs played among the branches of a concrete bush as water spouted and trickled over the top into the pool below. The scent of the distant rose garden drifted on the air with understated elegance.
Windchimes welcomed her with delicate music as she made her way slowly up the porch steps. Several rocking chairs sat empty along the porch's length, accompanied by an old-fashioned porch swing at one end. Through the equally old-fashioned screen door she could see a wide hallway with an unmanned check-in counter on one side. A tole-painted sign beside the door read, “Welcome to Miss Annie's...Come on in.”
Stepping inside she stared appreciatively about her. Hardwood floors were polished to a high luster and covered with an aubusson runner. The counter and its matching pigeon-hole secretary were likewise polished and dust free, their contents neatly arranged. Small oil paintings and wall ornaments hung from walls covered with dainty floral paper. In an ornately framed mirror, she caught a glimpse of herself, an emerald-eyed woman of average height and build with short copper curls capping a wholesomely freckled face. A stairway curved gracefully from the second floor, its elegant banister ending with a carved pineapple newel. Beneath the stairs was a curtained alcove, the fabric pulled aside to reveal an antique gossip bench and porcelain French-style phone. The inn smelled of potpourri and lemon, reminding her strongly of her grandmother.
Stepping up to the counter she set her suitcase on the floor and tapped the button of an antique shop bell.
“Hello?”
“Helloooo!”
Footsteps scurried across the floor upstairs and followed the voice down the stairs. Colleen watched as a tiny old woman clamored down the steps, her gait surprisingly fast and sure in orthopedic shoes. Her silver white hair was loosely confined in a Gibson girl's bun and she was dressed in a well-worn denim skirt and eyelet blouse. Her shoulders were rounded by a dowager's hump.
As she approached, Colleen was enchanted by the age lines etched into the beautiful alabaster skin and the unusual lavender color of the woman's spry eyes behind her horn rimmed spectacles. No hint of fatigue marred her vivacious expression. As had everything about this place, the woman brought an instant smile to her face.
“Ah! You must be my new guest. Colleen Parker, isn't it?”
Hearing the faint lilt of Ireland in the old woman's voice, Colleen's smile broadened into a grin.
“Yes, I am, and you must be Anastasia O'Malley.”
The old woman grimaced and waved her hands as she rounded the counter, “Oh heavens just call me Miss Annie like everyone else does. I'm too old to waste breath on that mouthful. Now, first you'll need to fill out this card, I suppose. My fussbudget of an accountant breaks out in hives if I forget to have my guests do that.”
Miss Annie slapped a card on the counter alongside a fuchsia inked pen then turned to consult a small ledger.
“Now, let's see. Oh, yes, I've put you in the Rose Room down here on the first floor. That way you won't have to climb any stairs but those outside, and if those get to be a problem we have a temporary ramp we can install for you.”
Glancing up from the registration card, Colleen smiled her thanks before signing her name to the final line and pushing it toward Miss Annie. The old woman noted the address then glanced over the top of her spectacles.
“Memphis? That's quite a ways to drive, especially for someone recovering from a serious car accident.”
“Almost eight hours. It'll be worth it, though, to get away for a while. I've grown tired of doctors and therapists, not to mention the insurance companies.”
“I can understand that,” Miss Annie paused as she took a key from a slot in the secretary, “You know, if my memory serves me correctly, I do believe the young man who rents my guest house is from someplace near Memphis. It's too bad that he's such a recluse or you two might have found some things to talk about. He's really a very nice young man. Now if you'll just follow me, I'll show you to your room.”
The old woman led her to a set of double doors at the end of the hallway.
“This used to be the music room but I thought it would make an excellent room for any guests needing ground floor accommodations.
Opening the doors, Miss Annie led the way into a large airy room dominated by the largest sleigh bed Colleen had ever seen. Handsomely carved of walnut, it wore a white candlewick spread and matching shams and sat grandly on a rich carpet of deep rose. The only other pieces in the room were an end table, a walnut armoire, and chevalier mirror. Rosebud print wallpaper graced the walls while rose and white sheers floated over the windows and French doors leading onto a small patio. Overhead a small crystal chandelier reflected light over the room.
“This is a beautiful room, Miss Annie. Thank you.”
"I'm glad you like it.” She handed Colleen the key. “Now, the downstairs bath is behind the door down the hall and is well stocked with all manner of good smelling stuff for you to use; or, if you're so inclined, there's a Jacuzzi out there on the patio. The guest phone is just off the foyer. Cell phones don't reach out here, I'm afraid. Dinner is at six so until then you just relax and make yourself comfortable.” She paused on her way out the door. “Oh, and by the way, since I like the fresh air I don't usually turn the air conditioner on 'til evening but if you get warm, just let me know and I'll turn it on for you.”
Later that night, fresh from a soak in the Jacuzzi, Colleen snuggled delightedly in the huge sleigh bed. With the lights off she hadn't realized the mattress was down-filled until she sank into its depths. Her head was likewise pillowed in downy softness. As she relaxed, she thought she knew what sleeping on a cloud would be like. Within moments she was asleep.
Hours later a shuffling sound brought her instantly awake and she jerked upright in the bed. Moonlight filtered dimly through the sheers as they floated over the windows and French doors. A symphony of songs from cicadas and tree frogs flowed in on a breeze from outside, joined by the scents of roses and pine. Nothing would have been threatening except that the doors and windows had all been closed when she'd gone to bed.
“Whose there?”
The question, barely louder than a whisper, disappeared into the darkness. When no answer was forthcoming she eased from the bed and cautiously approached the doors. Moving aside the gently fluttering sheers she opened the squeaky door further to peer into the dark, and froze. Someone was standing at the edge of the patio, watching her. In the dim lighting his features were shadowed and indistinct but his size was clearly visible. He was big. Very big. He was at least three inches over six feet with an apparently solid build, and though he was barefoot and dressed in a robe, terror rooted her to the spot as they stared at one another for a long, tense moment. Finally his voice rumbled softly over the distance in apology.
“I'm sorry, Colleen. I didn't mean to wake you.”
The warm huskiness stirred a memory within her. He sounded achingly like...
“Who are you? How do you know my name?”
His pause was significant, his sigh a lonely sound on the night air,
“Miss Annie told me you were here. I had hoped I was being quiet enough not to wake you.”
He paused again and she watched him move slightly, as if to shift his weight from one leg to the other, before he continued.
“I sometimes come over and use the hot tub at night. It's a peaceful time to do so.”
“Have you also made it a habit to watch other guests as they sleep?”
“Excuse me?”
Her fear was evaporating, to be replaced by slow simmering anger. She wished she could see him better.
“My door. It was closed and locked when I went to bed, I woke up to find it open and you standing on the patio.” She faced him with arms akimbo. “I don't believe in coincidences.”
His indignation was a palpable thing, “You think I opened it?”
“Yes!”
“I assure you I didn't.”
“Then how did my door get opened?”
“I have no idea.”
She watched him shift his weight again and wondered why he was so fidgety if he were innocent. When he refused to say anything further, she squelched the urge to argue and eyed him speculatively across the distance.
“Alright, whatever you say. Are you going to tell me who you are?”
He shifted again, looked away, then back at her. She heard him take a deep breath before his warm voice whispered, “Micah McLeod.”
Then as she watched in shock he disappeared into the dark.
~
Micah McLeod.
Micah Sean McLeod.
Sitting on the porch the next morning, his name played like a litany through Colleen's mind as she gently rocked the swing back and forth. How many years had it been since she'd seen him last? At least fifteen, since he'd joined the Marines after graduation and never returned home.
She remembered him with a bittersweet smile. He'd become her brother Jason's best friend in kindergarten and had quickly become an extended member of the Parker clan. Over the years she'd developed a painful crush on him that had predictably grown into a serious case of puppy love. Then, when she fifteen, he's helped Jason defend her from three boys attempting to molest her in the auditorium. As he'd stood, bloodied and victorious over her attackers, Colleen had fallen heart first into love. Being three years his junior, however, her love remained unrequited as she watched him flirt and charm his way among the girls in school. She'd been crushed when she heard he was seriously involved with Erlene Woodby. She'd been devastated when he left without saying goodbye.
She watched a hummingbird flit around a hanging fuchsia as the memories unfolded. Micah had seemed almost too perfect to be real. In addition to being devilishly handsome, he'd possessed more than his share of charisma. A star athlete, an excellent scholar, a budding sculptor, and coming from a prominent family in the community, he'd garnered the kind of popularity most teenagers only dreamt of. Yet, though he seemed to have everything, there had always been an undefinable sadness about him.
Miss Annie chose that moment to walk out onto the porch, broom in hand and dressed in baggy green sweats. She smiled when she discovered Colleen in the swing.
“Hello there, my dear. Are you at peace sitting in the fresh air?”
What a quaint question, Colleen thought to herself as she smiled wanly in return, “Yes, thank you, Miss Annie. Can I help you with that?”
“Ach, no. You just sit there and enjoy the day. You were saying over breakfast that you met young Micah last night.”
Colleen watched the old woman as she began sweeping. There was something strange in her movements, a fluidity one didn't normally find in the elderly. Especially in one requiring orthopedic shoes and sporting a dowager's hump.
“We've known each other before, actually. We came from the same hometown but he left a long time ago. How long has he lived here?”
“Showed up one day about two years ago and rented the guest house down the path there,” Miss Annie paused and pointed out a trail leading off into the woods. “He's a sculptor, you know. A good one. I've met people from all over the world who come just to see him. And I suppose I've grown rather fond of him. He's like the son I never had.” She paused again to jab an arthritic finger into several of the hanging pots to test for moisture. “I wish he didn't spend so much time alone out there. A catch as fine as that one shouldn't keep so much to himself.” Her lavender eyes peered at Colleen over the tops of her glasses, “It surprises me that he sought you out.”
“Actually, I found him on the patio sometime in the wee hours this morning. It was the strangest thing, I know that I closed and locked the patio doors before getting into bed, yet when I woke up one was standing open. I thought that he might have opened it.”
Miss Annie shook her head as she resumed her sweeping.
“Forgive me, my dear, it's my fault. I forgot to tell you about those doors. They don't always latch properly. I keep meaning to get them fixed but just never have gotten around to it. As for Micah, he comes over sometimes to use the Jacuzzi. Says it helps him relax on nights he can't sleep.”
Colleen remembered her accusation with chagrin and stared at the trail leading into the woods, missing Miss Annie's shrewd glance. With pursed lips she swept spent fuchsia blossoms off the porch into the yard before commenting nonchalantly, “He must have been a handsome man before he got that scar.”
“Scar?” Colleen's head whipped around, “What scar?”
“Why, the scar on his face. Did you not see it?”
“N-no, I didn't. It was dark and his face was in shadow.” She paused then rose to her feet. “Miss Annie, how far down that path is the guest house? I think I'd like to pay him a visit.”
The old woman's incredibly perfect teeth flashed as she smiled, “A splendid idea, my dear. It isn't far. Maybe a couple of hundred yards or so. And the trail is clear of roots so you shouldn't have any problems walking it.”
The guest house reminded Colleen of a fairy tale cottage, complete with thatched roof, exposed Tudor beams, and window boxes filled with moss roses. As she approached, her mind insisted her eyes could not be seeing what they were seeing. A wide grin spread across her face. She would not have been surprised if one of Snow White's dwarfs walked out the bottom of the Dutch door.
Classic Motown flowed from the screened windows and into the still summer air. Nervously peering in through the open top of the door, she found the tidy interior furnished with a modern man's comfort in mind. A large screen television and expensive stereo system were flanked by overstuffed furniture in navy and wine and heavy oak tables. A kitchenette was tucked away behind a breakfast bar and a narrow flight of stairs led up into the loft. Except for the music, there were no other signs that anyone might be home.
A car hood slammed shut nearby and was followed by the rattling of tools, the familiar sounds drawing her around the corner of the house. From the woods opposite she noticed a narrow driveway leading to a small garage a short distance away. A generously sized workshop was built onto the back. In front, Micah knelt beside a gleaming vintage yellow Mach I Mustang and rummaged through a tool box.
The sight of him took her breath away. Shirtless, his body was clad in well-worn jeans, the nearly white seams straining over well-muscled thighs and buttocks. His hair flowed thick, loose, and glossy midway down his back in a sable stream. When he partially turned to grasp a ratchet lying in the grass, she caught the glint of a gold medallion nestled in the crisp hair lightly covering his impressive chest.
How many times had she watched him and Jason work on the Mach I and Jason's glossy black GTO, constantly waxing, tinkering, and worrying over them like expectant fathers? They'd relished knowing they were envied in four counties for their cars, strutting like roosters as they cruised slowly through town or after winning an illegal drag race down a country back road. Affection calmed her nervousness as she scanned his serious expression and she playfully struck a sassy pose.
“Gee, mister. That shore is a nice lookin' car you got there.”
The ratchet dropped from his hand as he jerked to his feet, whirling in surprise to face her and giving her her first glimpse of the scar Miss Annie had spoken of. She wasn't able to contain her gasp of dismay.
“Oh, Micah!”
The scar, a harsh line of puckered red and purplish flesh, bisected his handsome face from eyebrow to jaw. As she stared, grimness replaced surprise in his gray eyes and he turned away.
“What are you doing here, Colleen?”
“Did you think I wouldn't come once I knew you were here?”
He squatted once again by the tool box. “Why?”
“Oh, I don't know. For old time's sake maybe?”
She watched him repack his tool box, his expression carefully blank. Sensing his turmoil she tried a different approach. Taking a hesitant step closer her voice lowered, “We missed you when you left, Micah.”
He hesitated after closing the box and sighed.
“I missed you, too.”
Colleen's heart skipped, even as she told herself he was speaking of everyone in her family.
“Then why didn't you keep in touch? We worried about you, wondered where you were, and how you were doing.”
“I had my reasons.”
She watched him stand and, with muscles rippling under sun-bronzed skin, carry the heavy toolbox into the garage. After a moment she dared to follow him, limping on her bad leg around the nondescript cargo van parked inside and found him tidying up a small work bench in one corner. God, her heart was racing as hard as it had all those years ago. Was it possible to still love someone you hadn't seen in nearly two decades, whom you weren't even certain you knew any longer?
“Jason's married now. Did you know that?”
He glanced over his shoulder and she was surprised to see a grin on his face, “Yeah? Who?”
“Tina Darcy, and they have three boys. He named the oldest Micah, after you.”
The grin faded and she was startled to see the moisture in his eyes before he looked away.
“No kidding,” was his gruff comment.
Silence stretched between them again and she waited while he finished putting his equipment away, struggling with the desire to move closer and slide her arms about his waist in a comforting hug. He seemed so alone, perhaps even a bit lost. What had happened all those years ago to make him leave? When and how had he been scarred? Had he ever married? Had children? She sighed. So many questions and none of them any of her business.
“Miss Annie tells me that you're a successful sculptor now”
“I'm doing alright.”
Colleen groaned in exasperation, “You know, Micah, even though I may be an uninvited guest I'm still an old friend. Is it really so hard to talk to me?”
He picked up his t-shirt from the bench before turning to face her, “Sometimes.”
He paused in the act of sliding the shirt on, a reluctant grin teasing the corners of his beautifully sculpted mouth, “But then, I remember you were always too busy talking to let anyone else get a word in edgewise. I guess it's old habit and good sense to wait until you run out of steam before trying to get my two cents in.”
Her mouth fell open in feigned surprise, “Why, you can converse after all! I'm impressed.”
“You're still a brat, too.”
Chuckles bubbled up from her infectiously, “Says you.”
His answering smile was slow, warm, and lethal.
“Says me.”
With a laugh she gave in to impulse and launched herself into his arms, feeling them enfold her in a crushing hug. Not quite reaching his shoulders, she buried her face against his broad chest as his hair fell forward in a silky dark curtain. Enveloped by his scent and body, his heart beating in her ear, Colleen felt as if she'd finally come home. Leaning away, she searched his face with shining eyes and gently tugged on a lock of hair.
“When did you go native?”
He hesitated, his smile wavering slightly before he shrugged, “After I left the Corps. I swore I'd never visit a barber again. What do you think?”
She pretended to consider as she sifted her fingers through his mane, enjoying the sensual feel of it against her skin.
“Do you know how many women would kill for hair like yours?” she mused.
His frown was fierce though his eyes sparkled with laughter, “Are you saying I look like a girl?”
“You? Look like a girl?” She stepped back to run her gaze admiringly over the length of him, “Never! I like it. It'll just take me a while to get used to it. You were always the clean cut, all-American guy, remember?”
She was surprised by the pain that crossed his face before he looked away.
“Yeah. Well, since you're here I'll show you my latest commission if you're interested.”
Squelching the questions his change of subject produced, she followed him through the door at the back of garage into the dusty, cluttered workshop. When he ripped the sheet from atop the freestanding statue Colleen nearly swallowed her tongue. She didn't notice how closely he watched her for her response.
“I call it 'Surrender.'”
Nearly life-sized and carved from a massive block of fine pink marble, an eerily lifelike man and woman stared intensely into one another's eyes, his in question, hers in acceptance, as he laid her back on a stone bed. Though scantily clad and erotically posed, the artist's inherently sensitive portrayal elevated an otherwise base moment to something sublime. Colleen took several minutes to walk around the figures, awed and enchanted by the beauty and emotional power of the sculpture.
“Micah, this is—is incredible! I knew you were good but, heavens, this is fabulous!”
She glanced up suddenly and stilled, startled to see the same intense expression in his eyes as in his sculpture. Time slowed, her blood thundered, and her breath grew labored. She couldn't seem to break the spell she was falling under, nor did she want to as her heart whispered, “finally!”
“Micah?”
Her breathy whisper broke the strange tension that vibrated between them and he took a step away, breaking the stare with a shake of his head. When he looked at her again his face betrayed only friendly inquiry.
“I, uh, think I'll have some lunch. Would you care to join me?”
They spent the rest of the afternoon talking and catching up on the years as they relaxed inside the guest house. Amid the laughter and reminiscing came moments of sadness as he shared the events that had driven him from home. He refused to look at her as he reiterated the discovery of his conception, of his mother's affair with his father's former stable hand, an Indian known only as Billy Eagle Cloud. On the night following his graduation his parents had declared their penance paid, handed him a thousand dollars, and shown him the door. He'd seldom looked back, except to fondly remember the Parker's and others like them who had accepted him despite his bloodline. But the personal stigma of being outcast by his family had stayed with him and so he'd stayed away.
When he dared to meet her gaze, he found only sympathy and concern in her eyes.
“Have you ever looked for your father?”
“Yeah. I was told he was Cheyenne but no one by that name is listed with the Cheyenne or any other tribal registry. A private detective wasn't able to locate him either so I finally gave up.”
“What happened to your face?”
He smiled mirthlessly and fingered the scar, “I was angry for a long time and went around daring people to knock the chip off my shoulder. One night I dared the wrong guy and wound up on the business end of his knife. The doctor said I was lucky I had been pulling away or I'd have lost my eye.” He shrugged. “That's when I started to smarten up and began to plan what my next steps would be. After the Marines I went back to school and studied art, then traveled for a while in the US and Europe to refine my skills with master sculptors. Finally I came back and was looking for a place to settle when my car broke down in town. I spent the night at Miss Annie's, then ended up renting this place.”
“So it was kismet that brought you here.”
He smiled enigmatically, “Kismet's brought me a lot of things lately.”
After a log moment of silence, he popped another potato chip in his mouth, “So what happened to your leg?”
This time it was she who grimaced.
“Car wreck. Mom was in the hospital following her heart attack and I would go sit with her after getting off work. I was burning the candle at both ends and not getting enough rest, and one day I fell asleep at the wheel, hit a telephone pole, and mangled my ankle. I was very lucky to emerge with my life as the police said I hit the pole doing about sixty miles an hour. They said I must have hit the gas instead of the brake because I left no skid marks on the road.”
“You must have done a good job on that ankle, judging by the way you favor it.”
“I did. I broke it in three places and dislocated it for good measure.”
“Ouch! You always were an overachiever.”
She grinned without answering.
“So how is your mom doing now?”
“She's fine. At her doctor's insistence she's taking better care of herself by eating more healthily and going to water aerobics several times a week. She says she's never felt better in her life.”
He nodded, “I'm glad. I always thought highly of your mom and dad. It's good to know they and the rest of your family are doing well. Still can't see Jason married, though. I guess because in my mind he's still seventeen. Why is it that we age but our memories don't?”
~
The following days were spent getting reacquainted. She told him about the students in her special education classes and stories about family and friends. He told of his adventures traveling through Europe and the people he'd met and known. They shared much laughter and teasing when they remembered other times, especially when their stories didn't quite agree, which was often.
Once Micah entered Miss Annie's to find Colleen making her daily call home and soon found himself talking with her parents. Colleen watched him smile broadly as he promised to visit soon, his eyes becoming suspiciously moist as he replaced the handset. Reaching for her, he drew her into a tight hug and buried his face in her hair.
“Thank you.”
On Saturday Colleen volunteered to help Micah wash the Mustang, but the chore quickly escalated into a water fight after she mischievously squirted him over the hood. They wrestled over the hose, the clearing ringing with laughter as they chased one another around the car, until her bare foot slipped on the wet grass and sent her sprawling in an undignified heap. Helpless with laughter, she could only turn her head and use her hands to deflect the water raining down on her. He maneuvered the hose like a saber, whipping the stream of water around her puny defenses and grinning diabolically as he watched her squirm, secretly enjoying the swaying of her small, unbound breasts beneath the translucent yellow blouse.
“Micah!”
“Paybacks are hell, ain't they darlin'?”
When he stepped too close, she suddenly lunged and snagged the nozzle. The tug-o-war was intense but brief, soaking him as well as her, before she pulled him off balance. He landed heavily atop her, the hose sandwiched between them, and Colleen screeched as the cool water deluged their faces.
“God, Micah, you're drowning me!”
She felt him shift and suddenly the water was gone, but his weight didn't leave her. Opening her eyes, she found herself staring into turbulent gray depths mere inches away and went still. Drops of water gathered on his nose and chin before dripping onto her, mingling with the moisture trailing from her face. His hair in its soaked, misshapen pony tail hung over one shoulder, its ends and escaped strands brushing wetly over her cheeks and chin in tickling caresses. Lifting himself onto his forearms, he ran his eyes slowly over her to where their hips met, noting her flushed skin and hard, dusky nipples through the drenched blouse. His breathing quickened, its tempo matching her own, as he brought his hand to rest along her ribs, his thumb grazing the side of her breast. He watched her closely with eyes darkened to pewter as his nimble artist's fingers scaled the peak with exquisite tenderness, plucking and caressing until a moan shuddered from her.
“D-Don't.”
He paused when she grabbed his hand, but she didn't push him away.
“Don't what? Don't, as in stop,” he lightly squeezed the engorged nub, “or don't, as in don't stop?”
“Micah!” She whimpered and tightened her grip on his hand as her hips flexed against him, “I don't--I--oh!”
Another shudder racked through her and he shifted until his hips were cradled between her legs, leaving no doubts as to his condition. Forsaking her breast, he again rested his weight on his forearms and tunneled his fingers into her hair, holding her head firmly as he nuzzled her cheek, inhaling her scent like a starving man before a feast. Years ago he'd dreamed of this, but never had he imagined she would be so sweetly responsive. He felt her arms go about him, her nails digging into his back, and her thighs moved restlessly against his as she mewed brokenly into his ear. He felt her heart pounding in time with his. This time it was he who trembled.
“Colleen!”
His lips has barely brushed hers before the purr of an expensive car caught his attention, followed closely by the distant crunching of tires on gravel. Pure male frustration gelled into fury and he rolled away, swearing heatedly as he struggled to rein in his passions. The car was about half way up the driveway, giving him mere moments to bring himself under control. How could he have forgotten his agent would be bringing the buyer to view “Surrender” today? And Colleen! He ground his teeth on a growl and slammed his fist into the grass. How could he have even thought of taking her here, on the ground, in broad daylight like some rutting bull? Shame added fuel to his anger.
“Micah?”
He glanced over to find her staring at him, uncertainty and embarrassment staining her cheeks as she clutched the front of her blouse. Clearly she didn't realize how visible her nipples were through the wet fabric as it pressed into her flesh, but he did and it aggravated him further to think that someone else would as well. Especially his competent but lascivious agent.
“We've got company,” be barked, “Get out of here before they see you like that.”
Horror widened her eyes and she struggled to stand on shaky knees. Glancing over the Mustang to the driveway, she could hear the other car making its way slowly through the trees but was relieved that it still remained out of sight of the clearing. Micah appeared beside her, taking her arm and giving her a gentle nudge toward the house, his gray eyes bespeaking his regrets.
“Wait inside until they leave, then we'll talk. Okay?”
Glimpsing chrome through the trees, he planted a quick kiss on her forehead then watched her make her escape. Pausing at the house, she threw a quick look over her shoulder, her heart in her eyes, before hurrying past the door and into the woods toward Miss Annie's.
Later that night, after a sumptuous dinner of chicken and wild rice casserole, an exhaustive tour of the inn, and several stimulating hours of conversation with Miss Annie, Colleen tossed restlessly in the sleigh bed as her body hummed in frustration. After an hour she kicked aside the sheets and sat up, tugging irritably at the bodice of her silky tricot gown.
How long had it been since she'd wanted, truly wanted a man? The answer whispered through her thoughts. Since the fall of her freshman year in high school when, while raking leaves in the back yard, she had teased Micah once too often for a mildly embarrassing incident. As it had that afternoon, the resulting scuffle had ended with him sprawled over her, demanding she cry uncle, as she laughed at him from a bed of leaves. As her laughter had died, Colleen had watched his eyes darken and felt the quickening of his body against hers. For one wild moment she waited for the kiss promised by his eyes, her young heart pounding with eagerness and fear as her body felt the first yearnings of womanhood. His head had dipped slightly toward her, his eyes half closed, and her breath had caught in her throat as she raised her face to meet him. At the last moment he'd jerked back and rolled to his feet before walking away, a final glance at her sprawled on her bed of leaves betraying his tortured expression.
Her discomfort had lasted for days. Never having experienced sexual frustration before, Colleen had been at a loss as to how to handle the hungry fires that gnawed at her. Her moods had swung from desolation to rage and back again as she binged on chocolate bars and sodas. Tears alternated with angry outbursts until finally, in desperation, she had sought out the counsel of a kindly aunt and learned of the strange malady afflicting her.
As she stared unseeing into the dark, a slight noise caught her attention and she watched in surprise as one glass-pane door eased open. A breeze flowed in, lifting the sheer curtains and caressing her face with its coolness. On it was carried the unmistakable sound of a bubbling Jacuzzi.
For a long moment Colleen stared at the open door and its beckoning curtains, torn between desire and doubt. The ache in her body decided for her and she rose slowly to her feet. Forsaking her robe, she walked outside.
He sat to one side of the pool of churning water, staring at the French doors as if watching for her, and she absently wondered if he may have summoned her. With his face in shadow, she could not see his expression but she could feel his gaze like flames along her skin. Arousal tingled along her nerves and she felt her body moisten in readiness.
At first they just stared, his eyes questioning and her accepting, until she slid the straps of the gown from her shoulders and let the fabric pool at her feet. She hesitated, waiting until he extended an open hand, before crossing the patio to slide into the pool beside him.
The water was warm, his body warmer, as he drew her close, his lightly furred, nude body rubbing erotically against her sensitized flesh. Gently he turned her face to his, cupping her jaw in tender fingers as he stared down into her eyes. The scar would have seemed demonic if not for the emotion fueling the unbanked passion in his eyes.
“I've wanted you,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble above the bubbling water, “since before it was decent to do so.”
“Since the time we raked leaves?”
He bent his head, nuzzling her nose with his, “Before.”
“Before?”
“Since the first time you wore a bikini swimming and I saw how you were filling out.” He chuckled softly and sipped water from her jaw. “Imagine the shock I felt to realize I was turned on by a bratty twelve-year-old whom I considered to be my sister.”
“I never knew. Oh god, Micah!”
She gasped as he pulled her astraddle his lap, feeling his manhood hardening beneath her a her nipples grazed the crisp hair of his chest. His hands slid from her waist to her hips and back again in teasing brushes that moved closer and closer to her aching breasts. She whimpered as the pressure grew between her legs and she tightened her slim thighs against his muscular ones. Trailing her own hands up over his shoulders, she found his hair bound by a rubber band and impatiently freed it from its confinement as her lips finally met his in ravenous demand. Her fingers disappeared into the sable tresses as they sought purchase, holding his head as they kissed deeply, their tongues swirling to the primal beat of an erotic ballet. Suddenly he pulled away and cupped her face once more with his hands, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“Now imagine how I felt the day we raked leaves, when I finally realized I was also in love with my kid sister.” Colleen stilled as his words sank in and she saw the truth reflected in his flaming eyes when he added, “As I am still in love with her.”
She opened her mouth but words wouldn't come as tears welled in her emerald eyes. Choked with emotion, she tightened her fingers in his hair and rocked her hips against his fully aroused body.
“Show me your love,” she whispered raggedly and pillowed his face against her breasts, “as I have yearned to show you mine.”
She felt him draw a deep breath as she buried her face in his hair, then moaned sharply as he licked and suckled a turgid nipple. The rocking of her hips grew more demanding, swaying in time with his rhythmic sucking of first one breast then the other as his hands roamed at will over the rest of her body beneath the warm and frothing water. When release threatened, she tightened her grip in his hair with one hand and reached beneath her with the other to gently guide him inside, watching astonishment momentarily replace the pleasure on his face as he breached her virginity.
“Colleen, why...?”
“I've always been yours,” she whispered as the pain faded, smiling mistily as she placed a tender kiss on his lips, “Only yours.”
Awed and curiously humbled, he returned her kiss until he felt her pleasure return, his caresses growing bolder as her body countered the movements of his. Their sighs broke, then deepened to guttural moans as the water undulated about them, her breasts dipping above and below the surface as she rode his thrusts in wild abandon. Grasping her hips, he ground into her once, twice, and watched as the peak took her, a long keening cry issuing from her arched throat as her fingernails dug mindlessly into his shoulders. A few more thrusts and he followed her, his own voice echoing triumphantly through the night as Colleen sagged against him.
Minutes passed while they held each other, their breathing slowly returning to normal as the world righted itself. Tightening his arms about her, Micah roused himself enough to plant a kiss on the side of her neck.
“Is this what we have to look forward to for the next fifty years or so?”
Confused, she lifted her head and met his languid eyes.
“I don't understand.”
“Marry me.”
“Marry...?” Confusion gave way to amazement, “Micah, are you sure? I mean, it's been nearly twenty years and...”
“Marry me.”
Flabbergasted, she stared down into his glowing, expectant eyes and saw everything she'd ever really wanted waiting there. A calm certainty filled her and she smiled as she leaned forward to rest her forehead on his.
“Yes.”
The gray light of dawn was giving way to the fiery colors of an awakening sun when Colleen surfaced from sleep, snuggled warmly at Micah's side in a tangle of arms, legs, and bedding, with her head pillowed on his shoulder. An affectionate grin spread sleepily across her face when she heard him snore softly, his expelled breath lightly ruffling the hair on top of her head.
Experimentally she ran her hand through the hair on his chest and touched the medallion nestled there, intrigued to discover it was actually an old coin of some sort. Looking up into his sleeping face, she lightly brushed her finger over his whiskered jaw, enjoying the rasp against her sensitive skin before tracing the aquiline length of his nose and the fullness of his lips.
With a grunt, he grimaced and turned his face away before resuming his snoring rhythm. The curtain of his hair fell away, allowing morning light to reflect off the small diamond studding his earlobe. Remembering the interesting things he'd done to her ears last night, she shifted slightly, raising herself on one arm. Nuzzling her way around the outer part of his ear, his moan rewarded her as her tongue cleverly explored crevasses and indentions. She blew lightly into the canal before nipping the curiously soft flesh of his lobe, sucking gently between nibbles while she cupped his face with her free hand.
“Colleen?”
“Hush!” Her order was a feminine, almost feline, growl, as she made her way down the side of his neck. “It's my turn.”
His answering chuckle was smugly male as his arms drew her closer. “Yes, ma'am.”
They spent the morning in bed, loving, snuggling, and learning how to pleasure one another as they explored the new direction their relationship had taken. Having always imagined physical loving as something intense and serious, Colleen was delighted to find making love with Micah could also be fun. He seemed to particularly enjoy bringing her to the peak, then whispering or doing something so outrageous as to leave her convulsed with laughter while he eased his way between her legs, delighting in her exuberance even as they succumbed to sensual oblivion.
That afternoon Colleen called her family and broke the news of their engagement, rolling her eyes when her mother began to cry. The phone was passed to her father, who insisted on speaking with Micah before passing the phone back to his now composed wife. The date was set for the following Saturday, to be held in Miss Annie's garden at the old woman's insistence, and though disappointed that a formal church wedding would be forgone, her parents readily promised to be there.
~
The week passed with unnerving swiftness. Micah's agent completed the sale of “Surrender” and by week's end the piece was crated and on its way to Stockholm. Lying in bed that night, with the peace of the guest house settling around them, Micah quietly confessed how difficult it often was to sell his work.
“It sounds nuts, I know, but sometimes it feels like I'm selling my kids.”
Nestled close with her head pillowed on his shoulder, Colleen smiled as she caressed his chest.
“Why shouldn't you feel that way? I've heard it said that creating can be much like giving birth. Then, by the time you're finished, you've invested not only time and energy but pieces of your heart as well.” She tugged gently at the necklace. “Of course you're going to feel protective, and sad. No doubt you'll feel the same way when our kids grow up and leave home.”
“Our kids.” He shifted until he was leaning over her, a devilish smile playing about his lips, “Now why does the thought of kids excite me so?”
She chuckled softly as he nuzzled her neck and settled a knee between her thighs, “Why, indeed!”
Colleen spent days in search of the perfect dress before finding it on a whim in a vintage clothing store two counties away. A late Victorian confection of ivory lace and linen, it seemed to wait patiently for her on the padded hanger.
At the sales clerk's insistence, she retreated to a mirrored dressing room and allowed the woman to help her try the dress on. To Colleen's dismay, a corset was needed for a proper fit, as was a petticoat, but the image reflected back from the mirror brought a satisfied smile to her face. The clerk urged her to wait while she hurried back into the shop, returning shortly with fingerless mitts and a large brimmed hat, elegantly decorated with fine ivory netting, flowers, pearls, and a plume. After setting the hat on Colleen's head, she carefully pulled a veil of netting down from the brim then took a step back to survey the effect. With a flourish and a triumphant smile, she motioned her client to take a look.
“Might I suggest a pair of lacy garters, some ivory hose, and a lovely pair of satin dancing slippers to complete the ensemble? I have them all in stock at present.”
Staring into the mirror, Colleen's mouth fell open in wonder. Where once had stood average, everyday Colleen Parker now stood a woman of classic, feminine grace and uncommon beauty.
“I'll take it!”
“Everything?”
“All of it.”
Minutes later, Colleen left the store and a third of her savings account behind, grinning giddily behind her stack of boxes.
~
Colleen's parents arrived early the evening before the wedding, bringing with them Jason, his family, and a small contingent of friends, and filling the inn with laughter. Miss Annie thrived in the chaos, darting about with rosy cheeks and a contagious sparkle in her lavender eyes as she saw to the comfort of her guests. Somehow she found space and hot food for everyone with a minimum of fuss, managing to make everyone feel welcome and even finding time to play a game with Jason's sons.
In a moment of privacy, Helen Parker confessed to her daughter that her efforts to persuade Micah's parents to join them had been in vain. The McLeod's were adamant in their refusal for a reunion with their son, even going so far as to deny having a son any longer. Helen's emerald eyes, so like Colleen's, glittered with remembered fury. Micah, after all, was practically one of her own.
“His father's feelings I suppose I can understand, but his mother? How can any mother not be proud to have a son like him?”
Colleen shrugged, her heart aching as she accepted the news. “I don't know, Mom. Maybe what they say about cats and kittens is true .”
She smiled tenderly, watching as across the room her youngest nephew, Joshua, pulled on Micah's pant leg. In response, Micah crouched, his head tilted in a listening manner, before laughing and ruffling the young boy's hair. Glancing at her, he winked, then lifted the four-year-old onto his shoulder and headed for the kitchen. Most likely the young Josh would soon have his third Popsicle of the evening.
“I'm afraid she'll regret it one day.”
Returning her attention to her mother, Colleen grimaced and shook her head, “Well, as you've so often said it's her decision and can't be helped so there's no use dwelling on it.” Shrugging off her sad thoughts, she smiled invitingly, “Would you like to see my gown?”
They retreated to the Rose Room, followed shortly by Miss Annie, Jason's wife, and the other female guests, and passed the evening admiring the gown, and groom, while sharing women's memories. A few minutes before midnight, Micah knocked on the door, causing a minor stir as the gown was hurriedly returned to the armoire. Assuring them that he'd be long gone by the final stroke of midnight, he led Colleen out the front door to the shadowed end of the porch.
“I think your parents brought the town with them.”
Colleen grinned and moved easily into his arms, basking in the sense of homecoming they gave her as she breathed in his scent.
“Do you mind?”
He chuckled softly into her hair, “Naah. It's been good seeing old friends again.” He chuckled again, “Even after you told me about them, I still couldn't imagine Jason with three kids, a wife, and a paunch.”
He paused, his arms tightening as he rested his chin atop her head, “I hadn't realized how much I'd missed your family.”
“I'm sorry yours isn't here, Micah.”
He took a slow, deep breath, “Yeah, but you know, it doesn't bother me as much as I thought it would. I think it would have hurt more if they had come. I don't know why that surprises me.”
Lifting her head, Colleen smiled softly as she looped her arms around his neck and began sifting his hair with her fingers.
“I love you, Micah McLeod.”
Micah grinned and rested his forehead on hers.
“I should hope so seein' as how we're about to get hitched in front of God and half the county. Think I'll have a paunch in a few years?”
“I doubt it. I'm not half the cook my sister-in-law is.”
He frowned in mock displeasure, “Well! This puts a whole new light on the matter. What good's a wife who can't cook?”
Balancing herself on her toes, Colleen whispered an illicit suggestion in his ear then grinned as a shudder ran the length of his body. Seconds later his weight held her pinned to the wall as his lips hovered over hers.
“How long do we have before midnight?”
From inside the house the grandfather clock rang the first chime of midnight and Micah groaned as his mouth savagely took hers.
Neither heard the screen door open or the several cleared throats as Jason and three other men stared pointedly off into the dark, not bothering to hide their grins. When a breathy little whimper emerged from the porch shadows, Jason dropped all semblance of subtlety.
“Alright, you two, break it up!” No response. “Micah! That's my baby sister you're compromising and I still have the option of kicking your butt!”
Micah's only response was a crude and improbable suggestion that brought a shaky giggle from Colleen, but after a last steamy kiss he reluctantly led his fiance out of the dimness to the well-lit doorway. Her color was high but her grin full of feminine power as she ran a finger over his cheek, winked wickedly at her brother, then disappeared inside.
“Does that shower of yours have cold water, Micah?” asked one of Jason' companions and then feigned terror when Micah shot him a glare of intense frustration. With much laughter and hearty back slapping, they escorted him off the porch and into the night.
~
Saturday dawned bright but chilly with the first hint of autumn in the air. By midday the temperature had warmed to a comfortable degree and Miss Annie's garden was readied for the ceremony. In their respective houses, the bride and groom combated nerves and endured well-meaning hoverers until they wanted to scream.
An hour before the ceremony, a gaily wrapped package was delivered to the Rose Room, setting off a hum of tittering, oo's and ah's. Slipping the gift card from its tiny envelope, Colleen smiled as she read, “For your eyes...only!” in Micah's firm scrawl.
“What a lovely wrapping,” praised Miss Annie as she and Helen peeked around Colleen's shoulders. “It's almost too beautiful to open. From Micah?”
“Yes,” Colleen looked up, her smile becoming a grin, “and the card says it's for my eyes only.”
Miss Annie's lavender eyes danced with mischief and understanding.
“Of course it is.”
Turning away in a swirl of turquoise chiffon, she clapped her hands to gain the other women's attention.
“Okay, ladies, let's all go down and see how things are going in the garden.”
Officious Aunt Louise, typically, took exception, “But the gift...?”
“Is for Colleen,” interjected Helen. “She'll show it to us later if she wants. Anyway, it's time I went upstairs and finished getting ready. Anyone want to come along?”
Colleen smiled without apology as they filed out, murmuring her thanks when her mother and Miss Annie each gave her a peck on the cheek before closing the doors behind them. For a moment she simply stood there, allowing the first peace of the day to ease her nervousness, before returning the card to its envelope.
The dress and petticoat rustled softly as she crossed the room to sit on the bed, her fingers lovingly caressing the sunny yellow box. The box was about the size of a shoebox and heavy in her hands, but no sounds betrayed its contents when she playfully shook it near her ear. After carefully removing the bow and ribbon, she shredded the paper with eager hands and lifted the lid to reveal a nest of opalescent excelsior. Nestled within lay a tissue-wrapped bundle.
Colleen carefully lifted the bundle and set the box aside before peeling away the four layers of tissue. Her breath caught on a gasp then released with a trembling sigh as she lifted the gift free of its binding. Exquisitely carved from a block of cypress wood, their features pure and poignantly defined, a proud Neptune offered a shy mermaid an open clam shell. From within the cavity of the shell, Colleen withdrew a perfect string of pale pink pearls.
“Oh, Micah!”
For long minutes she could only stare at his gift, lovingly tracing her finger over it as her heart overflowed with the love she had harbored for so long. Hearing the first strains of classical music begin outside, she set the sculpture carefully aside on the end table then clasped the pearls about her neck, feeling their weight settle against the fabric of the dress like a caress. With a long last look at the sculpture, she collected the hat from atop the armoire then went to stand in front of the mirror just as a knock sounded on the door.
“Come in.”
Miss Annie hurried into the room with a basket of flowers, pausing to exclaim her delight over the statue, then the pearls, before standing behind Colleen to help with the hat.
“That boy is as nervy as a cat in a dog house,” she chuckled, drawing the veiling down over Colleen's face. “I decided I'd better make sure you weren't late.”
“Where's Mom? As my matron of honor shouldn't she be here by now?
“She said she would meet you in the lobby. She's still fussing with her dress and hair.”
Standing back, Miss Annie appraised her young guest with warm approval.
“My dear, you are exquisite!”
Blushing, Colleen smiled her thanks and accepted the basket of freshly cut blossoms from the garden outside.
“Well, I guess it's almost that time.”
Before she could move away, Miss Annie touched her veiled cheek with tender fingers then gently took the younger woman's hand.
“Colleen, I want you to know how much I've enjoyed having you here. Of all the couples I've ever had the pleasure of dealing with, you and Micah have become my favorites. I shall miss you both very much.”
Startled, Colleen squeezed her hand and hastened to reassure her hostess.
“Miss Annie, didn't Micah tell you? The local school district has hired me to teach fourth grade at one of the elementary schools. We'll be living in the guest house until we buy our own place. We're not going anywhere.”
Miss Annie merely smiled and returned the squeeze before leading Colleen from the room.
Minutes later, Colleen watched her coolly elegant mother step off the porch as the traditional strains of the “Wedding March” filled the late summer air. Beside her, her proud father stood with her hand clasped firmly to the crook of his arm.
“You look very much as she did when we were married,” he murmured softly, his gaze full of love for the woman who'd shared his life for over thirty-five years. “I didn't think anyone could be as beautiful as she was, and still is.”
Looking down at Colleen, he smiled and she was startled to see his eyes grow misty, “You are definitely your mother's daughter and I love you all the more for it.”
Colleen smiled shakily in return and hugged his arm close for a moment, “And I love you, Daddy.”
Walking down the white carpeted aisle between rows of folding chairs, she nearly forgot the man beside her as she stared at Micah, standing straight and tall between the minister and Jason. Not for the first time, she wondered if this was all a dream. God, if it was, she didn't ever want to wake up!
Reaching the end of the aisle, Joseph Parker took her hand and placed it in Micah's before taking his seat in the front row beside his daughter-in-law. Micah drew her forward, his gaze leaving no doubt of his feelings as they traveled over her, eloquently expressing his ardor and admiration. Throughout the brief ceremony, he seldom looked away. His voice, as he spoke the vows, was strong and confident, though his hand trembled slightly as he slipped the slender gold band on her finger. In response, Colleen's words were softer, wavering with the intensity of her emotions before she slid the wider band firmly over his knuckle and impulsively kissed it where it rested at the base of his finger. Unbeknownst to either of them, there were few dry eyes among the witnesses as the minister concluded the ceremony and invited the groom to kiss the bride. After carefully lifting her veil, Micah tenderly wiped away the happy tears from her cheeks and accepted the invitation.
Inside the house, Miss Annie had laid out a veritable feast for the reception. Roast beef and baked chicken were accompanied by rolls and cornbread, three different potato dishes, and eight varieties of yellow and green vegetables. For dessert was a whimsical, three-tier wedding cake covered with colorful icing flowers and lattice work. It was topped with a pair of crystal hummingbirds sharing a morning glory's nectar. Champagne and ginger ale flowed freely as toasts were made and an eclectic assortment of music played from the stereo.
Later in the afternoon, Miss Annie excused herself from her guests and asked the bride and groom, alone, to accompany her outside. Once on the porch, she took them each by the hand.
“It's time for me to go.”
“Go?” Micah's brows furrowed in confusion, “Go where, Miss Annie?”
“Home, my child, where I belong.”
Colleen shook her head in confusion, “But this is your home, Miss Annie.”
Miss Annie merely shook her head then released their hands to offer them an envelope seemingly drawn from thin air, “Not any longer.”
Taking the envelope from her, Micah broke the formal looking seal on its back and withdrew a heavy vellum sheet. After another puzzled look at Miss Annie, he unfolded the thick paper and held it where he and Colleen could both read it. Seconds later, they stared thunderstruck at each other then at the old woman smiling benevolently at them. Colleen struggled to find her voice while her new husband remained speechless.
“Miss Annie, I--we can't accept this deed! This is your home, your livelihood!”
Miss Annie chuckled and shook her head, “No, my dear, it isn't. I'm going home and have no further need of it. The inn is legally and completely yours, to do with as you please. Oh,” she ran her gaze over the porch and into the entry way, “it may seem a bit--overlarge--now, but in a few years you'll be thankful for all the space and the bedrooms upstairs.”
“Miss Annie, “ Micah finally found his voice, “I don't think you're feeling well. Why don't you let me call a doctor?”
Miss Annie only chuckled and patted his cheek with a softly wrinkled hand, her lavender eyes alight with affection, good humor, and, strangely, mystery.
“I do so adore you, Micah! Even when you've been stubborn, foolish, and full of hurt and fury I've thought you were a prince at heart. I often told old Eros you'd come around, and that we would one day be able to entrust our lovely Colleen to you. I am so happy you haven't let me down.”
She turned to Colleen, taking both of the younger woman's hands in hers. “Treat him well, child, and guard his heart like a lioness. He is a man who'll support you and defend you, who'd give his life for you if necessary. There is nothing more precious than the love you have for him, or he for you. Believe in it and hold on to it, and it'll see you through the life's toughest times.”
After planting soft kisses on both their cheeks, Miss Annie turned and stepped off the porch, her feet quick and nimble as she set off down the driveway in a cloud of turquoise chiffon.
“Miss Annie?” Colleen turned to her new husband, clutching his arm in her distress. “Micah, we have to stop her!”
Before he could respond, she felt him stiffen and his eyes widened in amazement. Following his gaze, she looked back toward the driveway and gasped. Where Miss Annie had stood, a young woman of ethereal beauty now floated serenely inches off the ground. Her gown was shimmering iridescence, her hem-length, white-blonde hair a thick mass of loose curls. Her regally poised head was adorned by a circlet of spun gold, diamonds, and amethysts. In her hand she carried a crystal wand topped by streamers of glimmering stars.
As the newlyweds stared, stunned by a vision their human minds could not readily comprehend, the woman smiled, her sparkling lavender eyes clearly visible to them.
“Farewell, my children. Love long and well!”
Then with a wave of the wand, the air was rent by a brilliant rainbow. And she was gone.
Your opening paragraphs suggests my ex-wife's dreams. Along with the guesthouse. A little hideaway in the woods. Your description of Miss Annie and the surroundings are lush and detailed to the point of easy visualization. I did find having the air conditioning turned on in the evening and the sheers wafting in the evening breeze a bit incongruous.
Colleen's memories of Micah after spotting him at night, suddenly turned into morning with the hummingbirds flitting about outside without transition.
Colleen's first encounter with Micah working on the Mach 1 becomes pretty standard romantic novel stuff with the description right down to every drop of sweat. A bit like the way men describe women in novels with a more sexual and less sensual turn. But women are different in their perception of men. Still, I find everything just "too" perfect. Wishfully so for all those lonely readers, nearly all women. virgin and waiting for him? Clearly the stuff of romantic novels but not realistic.
When they finally realized both of their expectations in the Jacuzzi, were there other guests who would hear them? Would Annie? I would think they would be as quiet as they could about their business.
Of course, what made it a fairytale was the twist at the end. Nicely done. But I would have preferred if Annie had just retired as a kind old lady. Much preferring realism over fantasy. Like the washer woman who took in laundry for pennies and gave a university she never went to, $200,000.
Falling to a rare sentinel illness and separated from her charges during a retrieval mission Xevera Nanay encounters the biggest threat to her survival but more importantly her autonomy when paramedic Michael Constantine recognizes and imprisons her
The house sat coyly at the end of the long gravel driveway, a welcome sight as the Camaro rounded a curve and broke from the woods into the clearing. Two stories of rampant Victorian clapboard and gingerbread, complete with wrap around porch and weeping with wisteria, it reminded Colleen of frail old ladies in lawn and lace dresses sipping tea from fragile china cups. The image charmed a smile from her tired face.
