Mountain Laurel Read online

  For goodness' sake, she was only planning on a date or two! He made it sound...dirty. But he was right about her giving in to Ginny. It was something she'd always done. Wasn't that how you showed someone that you loved them? Maybe not. Not this time, anyway.

  Michael was right, Laurel finally realized. She couldn't do this. She would have to find another way.

  The annoyance Michael had felt left him as quickly as it had come. He had no idea what it was that had pushed him to question her reasoning as he had, but he'd succeeded in telling this woman, whom he hardly knew, that she was frigid, loose and weak of character all in a span of about thirty seconds. He was baffled by his behavior. But the drive he'd felt to dissuade Laurel from her plans was insistent and stronger than he could resist.

  "Listen, Laurel, I'm really sorry..." he began, but her huge sigh caused him to stop.

  "It's all right," she told him.

  He was surprised to see that her eyes had gone soft, that her lips, still moist with juice from the apple, curled at corners in a small smile.

  "Don't apologize. You're right. You're right about everything. The bet was a bad idea and I'll talk to Ginny about it as soon as I get back to the cabin."

  Relief flooded through his body. Michael didn't care whether he was right or not. He was just awfully glad she wasn't going through with the crazy wager.

  ~ ~ ~

  "You blew it, didn't you?" Ginny twisted her mouth snidely.

  Panic wrapped around Laurel's chest, making it extremely hard to breathe. She looked at her sister's expression and tried to remain calm. Having thought long and hard, she was sure she had come up with the perfect speech to tell Ginny that their bet was off. She had planned to say that it was foolish to play games with life and that that was something adults didn't do. She was going to explain that there was a right way to do things and there was a wrong way.

  But Laurel hadn't planned on her sister's having one of her wild mood swings. Having heard the front door slam, then seeing Ginny's tight expression and hunched shoulders when she stomped into the kitchen, Laurel knew something was wrong. But before she could find out what it was, Ginny had verbally attacked her.

  "You don't have to say a word," Ginny said. "It's written all over your face."

  Laurel stared down at the mug of cold tea that sat on the table in front of her. She wrapped her shaking hands around it and tried to think.

  "Where's Eric?" she asked, groping for an out. "Did you two have a fight?"

  "I don't want to talk about him. He's such a wimp!" Ginny ground out contemptuously.

  "If you had an argument, we should talk about it."

  "Don't try to change the subject!" Ginny snapped. "I want to know why you can't even go on a simple picnic without messing everything up." She stood by the table, her fist planted on outthrust hip.

  She had to calm her down, Laurel thought. Ginny wouldn't listen to a word she had to say until she was in a better state of mind. Then Laurel heard a panicked little voice inside her head whisper, Lie.

  "Who said I messed anything up?" Laurel gave what she hoped was a soothing smile. "I had a terrific time today with Michael. The picnic was... very romantic."

  That wasn't too much of a lie, she told herself. She did have a terrific time.

  However, her smile wilted slightly under Ginny's dubious stare and she quickly decided to do a bit of elaborating.

  "Michael's a great guy."

  He is, he is! the little voice whispered.

  "We talked. Got to know each other. We enjoyed a bottle of wine."

  True, true, and true, the voice in her head intoned proudly.

  "And he wants to take me out."

  The little voice groaned.

  Now where on earth had that come from? When Michael had left this afternoon, they'd made no plans to see each other again.

  "When?" Ginny asked, still unconvinced.

  "When?" Laurel repeated. She swallowed, moistened her lips, and slid the mug a few inches away from her. She needed time to think. "Well, tonight, of course."

  Goodness, it was really getting deep now.

  "Tonight?" The look on Ginny's face brightened. It couldn't yet be called a smile, but it was no longer a frown, either.

  "Yes. Yes, tonight. Soon, as a matter of fact. I have to go get ready." Laurel scooted back the wooden chair. She escaped to the bedroom and closed the door.

  What was the matter with her? What had she done? What had happened to the idea of making Ginny appreciate her for who she was? She sat on the bed and tried to figure out where to go from here. She'd dug a hole for herself and now she needed to figure out how to get out of it.

  "Where's he taking you?" Ginny's voice was muffled by the door.

  "Um, just out to dinner, I think."

  "You think? You don't know?"

  "No, no. I know. We're going to dinner."

  "Well, when will he be here? Do we have time to talk? I want to hear all about what happened on the picnic today."

  Rubbing her fingers across her forehead, Laurel fretted. She hated lying. But she was in this now, and short of admitting everything to her sister right now...

  That's it! She slapped her knee.

  "I'm meeting him."

  "Oh." Ginny's excitement took a sudden nosedive. "But I wanted the car,"

  A frustrated sigh rushed past her lips before she could stop it.

  "What?"

  "Nothing. Er, that's okay, sweetie. You can have the car. I'll walk to Michael's place." She dug down into the drawer looking for a warm sweater. I'll just take a long walk, she reasoned. Ginny would never know. By the time she got back, Ginny would have gone out with her friends, and she would be in the clear.

  She looked toward the ceiling and whispered, "If I get through this, I'll never lie again." After pulling on a thick sweater, she reached for the doorknob.

  "You're going out looking like that? You only changed your sweater."

  "Well," Laurel said, gazing down at her cords and worn sneakers. "You see, we're not going out. Yes, uh, he's cooking dinner for me."

  The hole was just getting deeper.

  "Wow! He cooks?"

  "I guess so. Yeah." Laurel nodded nervously. Her glance darted to the window to see a brisk breeze tossing the treetops. It would be chilly while she was out, but she should be warm enough as long as she could get back to the cabin before dark.

  "You said you needed the car. What are your plans? When are you leaving?"

  "Well, I'm not going out, actually. At least, not for long. I'm going to pick up the girls and a pizza. And, since you'll be at Michael's, I don't have to ask if you mind if we come back here to hang out."

  "Oh." For a split second Laurel was caught with her defenses down, and that one tiny word held all the disappointment and frustration she was feeling.

  "That's okay, isn't it?" Ginny asked, a puzzled furrow in her brow.

  "Sure, why wouldn't it be okay?" Laurel shrugged one shoulder exaggeratedly high.

  Ginny cocked an eyebrow. "You do have a date tonight, don't you?"

  "Of course I do!" Laurel snapped, not sure if she was angry at Ginny for pushing her into this stupid bet or herself for getting in deeper with blatant lies. But she would much rather face a room full of dark, handsome forest rangers right now than one moody teenager.

  "Good!" Ginny said with a tight jerk of her head. Then she turned and went back into the kitchen.

  Laurel took advantage of her sister's absence by slipping a paperback book off a nearby shelf and quickly stuffing it under her bulky sweater. There was no telling how long she'd have to stay out now.

  "Here!"

  Laurel spun around to see Ginny thrusting the bottle of wine at her that Michael had brought on the picnic.

  "Take this with you. There's not much left, but you can enjoy a glass with your dinner." She snickered as she added, "It would be impolite to go empty-handed."

  When Laurel reached out to take the bottle the book slipped. She jerked
her arm down, trapping it against her stomach.

  "Are you okay?" Ginny asked.

  "Fine, just fine," Laurel said, snatching the bottle. "I gotta go. Have a good time."

  She was out the door and down the porch steps in a flash.

  The things I do for that girl! she fumed. She kicked her way through the fallen leaves along the path.

  "Where the heck am I going?" She stopped short, turning her face skyward. All she heard in answer was the sound of the trees tapping their objection as the wind plucked at their leaves, sending them floating to the ground around her. Closing her eyes, she sighed and let the quiet peace of the forest fill her.

  Okay, she asked herself, where are you going? Memories of the lovely golden oak tree she and Michael had lunched under propelled her along the path toward the meadow. But it wasn't long before the sun dropped behind the mountain, twilight changing the bright and serenely inviting forest to a duskily shadowed wilderness.

  She had three choices, she thought. She could go back and confess everything to Ginny; wander around helplessly lost in the forest; or go to Michael's house. Not hesitating more than an instant, she veered right when she came to the path that he'd pointed out earlier.

  "Hello there, I just happened to be in the neighborhood," she practiced, wondering what he'd say when she showed up on his doorstep.

  He probably won't be happy about what I've done, she thought. Hell, I'm not happy about what I've done! But I'd rather face his disapproval than another teenage tirade.

  The path opened up at the back of the cabin. She stepped up on the rear porch and took a deep breath.

  "Well, here goes nothing."

  Repeating her unanswered knock, she stepped over and peered into the kitchen window. Except for a dim light that shone over the sink, it was dark inside. Laurel snapped her fingers smartly.

  "That's right, he's a judge tonight," she whispered, remembering him telling her of the Autumn Glory Queen contest during their hike up to the meadow. "Well, Laurel, what do you do now?"

  Brushing a few leaves away, she settled herself as comfortably as possible on the small back porch. The rough-hewn logs that made up the outside walls of the cabin were hard against her back. She ignored them as best she could. Hunger pangs grumbled in her stomach, and she ignored them, too, sticking her nose in the book she'd brought.

  But dusk soon turned to darkness, making it impossible to read, so she set the book aside. The wind died completely, leaving the chilly night air disturbingly quiet. She pulled the sleeves of her sweater down over her hands and shivered.

  The trees on the edge of the woods were barely visible, the blackness behind them haunting. An eerie creaking of wood and a fitful rustling in the bushes filtered out of the blackness. It could be anything; a deer, a raccoon, a squirrel...a bear.

  "There's nothing out there. Nothing!" Hugging her knees to her, she couldn't tell if her shaking was from cold or fright.

  Grasping the half-filled bottle of wine that Ginny had forced her to bring, she took a hefty gulp, then another. When a muffled crack was followed by a thump, she stared round-eyed into the ebony night. Something stirred in the underbrush. She couldn't see a thing, but her mind conjured up the vivid image of a hulking brown grizzly thrashing around, sniffing for its dinner...which could, as likely as not, very well be her.

  Stop it! It's an opossum or a raccoon or a skunk. Wine trickled over her tongue and warmed her throat as she took another long draw. "Or a werewolf," she added right out loud, suddenly chuckling at her own fear. The muscles in her limbs slowly relaxed and tingled with heated weight.

  "Let 'im come. I'll whack 'im in the head," she muttered, taking another sip from the bottle. Giggling, she thought of her first meeting with Michael and wondered if she really would have hit him.

  "Of course I wouldn't have," she muttered. Sliding her legs up close to her body, she hugged them to her with one arm. The other kept lifting the bottle of liquid warmth to her mouth.

  "What if he doesn't come home?" she wondered aloud. Imagining him with some gorgeous woman was easy. Would he hold her like he held me on the dance floor last night? The memory of his kiss rushed over her like a powerful wave. He'd made her feel things she'd never felt before. Her senses had tingled with heightened awareness, and a deep-seated hunger had rumbled inside her, a hunger she knew couldn't be satiated by food. A tiny groan escaped her lips as she rested her head in her knees.

  What would happen when he came home? How was she ever going to explain this to him? He expected you to talk to Ginny about the meaning of responsible adult behavior, a small voice nagged her, not make up some fantasy date! Her shoulders sagged with a heaving sigh.

  "He will never understand."

  "Laurel?"

  Smiling up at a slightly blurred Michael, she slowly blinked, wondering if her mind was conjuring up her fantasy. If her imagination was the culprit, it couldn't have done a better job! The dark suit he wore accentuated his well- proportioned body. He looked good enough to eat! Then she wondered if she'd merely thought the words or spoke them. She leaned her head back against the wall, hoping to stop his image from wavering.

  "Are you okay?" His eyes were soft with concern.

  "I am now." She grinned stupidly. "How did you find me?"

  "I heard you talking. What are you doing here?" He sat on the step near her, his hand gently surrounding her ankle. Before she could answer, he asked, "Is it Ginny?"

  She nodded. Watching him pick up the wine bottle, she heard a tiny bit slosh in the bottom. He questioned her with a glance, a smile tickling the corner of his mouth.

  "I was cold," she explained.

  "Let's go inside. I'll start a fire and fix you something hot to drink."

  "Wait. Wait, Michael," she said, scooting over beside him. The sudden movement made her head swim and she put a hand on his solid shoulder for support. "Can we talk first?"

  "But you're cold. Come on—"

  "No, no. I'm toasty warm. I want to talk. I need to."

  "Okay," he nodded. "There's a problem with Ginny?"

  "More like a dilemma," she muttered. "But I don't want to talk about her." She wrinkled her nose and waved a hand through the air, wanting to push the subject aside. "I want to talk about me."

  "You?" He tried hard to keep the amusement from his voice.

  "Today you said I couldn't have an affair—"

  "I said I thought you weren't that kind of person," he corrected. "You couldn't handle that kind of thing."

  "I want to know why not."

  "Well," he said, unable to control his lopsided grin. "Let's just call it an educated guess."

  Michael stared into her glazed eyes. Her body slowly swayed away from him and she gave a tiny jerk to balance herself. He was more than a little surprised at finding her here. Something pretty serious must have happened to make her sit here alone in the dark.

  He inhaled sharply, her weight pressing into him as she slid onto his lap. He felt her fingers lace behind his neck. She rocked backward and he steadied her; one hand spread across her stomach, the other on the small of her back.

  "I think I can do it, Michael," she whispered.

  Her wine-sweetened breath passed lightly over his face. His heart thumped wildly. The muscles in his stomach grew painfully taut. Her soft, parted lips silently called his name, and an urgent need to answer welled up in him. But he couldn't. Doing so wouldn't be right.

  Although he'd known Laurel only a short time, he was sure this behavior was not part of her character. Something else motivated her actions, and he was determined to find out what it was.

  "I take it your talk with Ginny didn't go well?"

  "I said I didn't want to talk about her."

  "And you feel you still need to prove something?" he pressed.

  "Shh." Kissing the frown from his brow, she said, "I know I can do it. And you can help me."

  "Wait." Lifting a hand, he gave a gentle tug on her arm.

  "Kiss me, Michael."
<
br />   She lowered her lips to his. Her mouth was warm and sweet, as he knew she would be. Desire overwhelmed him. Closing his eyes, he ran his tongue lightly across her silky skin. Helplessly, he deepened the kiss, wanting to taste her sweetness. She opened herself to him, eager for his exploration.

  The fabric of her sweater was like velvet as he slid his hand around to rest on her waist, his thumb caressing the soft swell of her breast.

  The kisses he planted along her jaw made her arch her back and offer him her neck. He kissed it, feeling the blood pulse rapidly through her veins. Her fingers wove through his hair, drawing his head backward, and she once more pressed her mouth to his.

  He drew her closer and ran his hand over her hip and down along her outer thigh, then closer to the heat that was beckoning him. Laurel gasped at his intimate touch, and he quickly removed his hand from where he'd tucked it between her corduroy-clad thighs.

  "Please," she moaned.

  "Laurel." Taking a deep breath, he leaned back against the cabin, away from her, in an attempt to control the desire roaring inside him.

  "You don't want me?" Laurel asked, drunkenly hurt but seeming somehow relieved.

  She untangled her fingers from his hair and swayed away from him. He put both hands around her waist to steady her, and when she laid her head on his shoulder, he took the opportunity to slide her down his legs a bit. If he hadn't, he was sure she would notice his body's response to their kiss.

  Wisps of her hair tickled his jaw as she buried her face in his neck. He smoothed it back, liking the silky feel against his hand. She was sweet-scented, and he filled his lungs with her fragrance. He felt her chest rise and fall as a tiny sigh escaped her lips.

  "You make me feel so good, so safe," she murmured against his skin. He closed his eyes, fighting the tingle that coursed along his spine, the desire that curled in the pit of his belly, and knew she was anything but safe.

  "Laurel, listen to me." He spoke softly, almost in a whisper. "I don't know what happened between you and Ginny tonight. I don't know what made you come here. Or what it was that made you drink the rest of that bottle of wine." He stopped and stroked her hair for a moment before continuing. "But I do know that what happened between us just now wouldn't have happened if you weren't...if you hadn't been drinking.