Sleepless Nights:The Donovans of the Delta 2(3)
“My parents keep me informed.” He let her hand drop. “They seem to think I’m still interested in the doings of my two former best friends.”
“Are you?”
He took a certain malicious pleasure in thinking that he was the cause of the breathless catch he heard in her voice.
“No. Simple idle curiosity.” He hoped he’d lied with a straight face. He flipped open a menu. “Are you having the hot chocolate?”
“Yes, with marshmallows.”
It was the first time she’d smiled since he’d walked through the door. Amber lights lit briefly in the center of her aqua eyes, then faded as quickly as they had come. It was the first time he’d seen that smile in eleven years.
Tender feelings tried to blossom in his soul, but he quickly squashed them.
“Claude never liked marshmallows. I would have thought you’d have picked up new habits living with him. Six years, wasn’t it?”
Her tongue flicked over her lips before she answered. “Yes.”
He remembered so well the feel of that tongue. “Don’t do that,” he wanted to shout. Instead he signaled to the waitress. “Two hot chocolates with marshmallows.” Turning to Amanda, he asked, “Anything else?”
“Solitude.”
“We don’t always get what we want, Mandy, love.” He was as startled as she was when the affectionate term slipped out. For a moment her expression grew soft, then that familiar cool mask of indifference slipped back across her face.
“I’m not interested in a trip down memory lane, Tanner.”
“Neither am I. One time through hell is enough for me.”
Her eyes sparkled with anger. “It was a hell of your own making.”
“That’s debatable. There’s not much a man can do when he’s in another state and his two best friends are playing footsie behind his back.”
“How could you possibly have noticed? You never left the football field long enough.”
They glared at each other until Tanner began to feel conspicuous. More than that, he felt the stirrings of emotions he wanted to remain buried. He forced himself to lean back and relax.
“Why don’t we start over?”
“As you said, one time through hell is enough.”
He felt a small glimmer of satisfaction in knowing that she’d been hurt too.
“I’m not talking about the past. I’m talking about our conversation.” Abruptly he stood up and took her hand. He felt it tremble as he placed a kiss in her palm. “Miss Amanda Lassiter, do you mind if I join you? I’m home for the holidays, and you’re the first friend I’ve seen.” He slid back into the booth.
“Am I?” Her voice reminded him of velvet—soft, smooth, and beautiful.
“Are you what?”
“Still your friend?”
He studied her lovely face in silence. That face had haunted his dreams, teased his imagination, fired his passion, and kindled his anger for the past eleven years. Were they still friends? No, he thought. Adversaries, yes. Former lovers, yes. But friends?
“I don’t think so,” he said quietly. “However, since we’re both home for the holidays and probably will be running into each other, I see no reason to make it unpleasant.”
“I’m not home for the holidays. I live here.”
His parents hadn’t told him that. “Since when?”
“Since April. I’ve opened an antique clothing shop on Washington St reet.”
“And Claude?”
“He’s still in Fulton, Missouri, running the local newspaper. I never should have stayed there as long as I did. After the divorce it was awkward— for both of us.”
He felt a sudden rush of compassion for Claude. It would have been more than awkward; it would have been torture. Losing Amanda after having possessed her was bad enough. He knew. For Claude, seeing her every day and not being able to touch her must have been sheer hell. At least Tanner hadn’t had to go through that. After the wedding he’d gone straight to football camp and the blessed oblivion of a demanding career in professional sports.
His compassion for Claude quickly changed to a cold rage as he thought of the two of them together. It was an image he’d tried to block out over the years. With Amanda sitting across the table from him, the image took on a clarity that made him want to smash his fists into the wall. His gaze swept hungrily over her, and he decided the only way to block out that vision was to replace it. He imagined Amanda in his arms . . . sweet yielding flesh . . . drowning himself in her softness.
His loins tightened almost painfully, and he thought he must be going mad. The arrival of the hot chocolate saved his sanity.