For Keeps Read online

  "What's that? Did the neighbors get a new dog?"

  Lyn glanced anxiously at the door, and said, "Well, actually, I've been meaning to talk to you about that..."

  "It doesn't matter," Pat said breezily. "We'll talk when I get back. It may be a couple of weeks longer, are you sure that's okay? You don't mind taking care of things for a while?"

  "Are you kidding? What's to take care of? I'm having a great time."

  "Because if it's too much, I can—"

  "No," Lyn said quickly as Rabbit barked again. "No, don't be silly. You stay as long as you like, I mean it. Don't hurry home."

  "You are sweet. I don't know what I would do without you, you know that?"

  "Just enjoy yourself, and don't worry about a thing."

  "I will, I promise. And you have a good time with Casey tonight. I'll call you in a couple of days. I love you."

  "Me, too."

  Lyn still felt a little stunned as she hung up the phone and went to let Rabbit in. Pat, of all people... she had never expected this from Pat. But she had been a widow for almost eight years now; she was still a young woman and there was no reason for her to spend her life alone. Pat was right, hiding from life was foolish and wasteful.

  And if that were true for Pat, wasn't it also true for her sister? The question took Lyn by surprise, and she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to answer it just then. But she did know she was no longer trying to think of excuses to get out of her date with Casey tonight.

  She smiled suddenly and her step was light as she started toward the bedroom. "Come on, Rabbit, we've got to get moving. I've only got a couple of hours to get ready for my date."

  Rabbit looked at her for a moment, then jumped up on Pat's chintz sofa and settled down to sleep.

  ***************

 

  SEVEN

  Lyn had bought one dress since coming to Florida: a white gauze with puffy three-quarter-length sleeves, a scooped neck and dropped waist. Tiny buttons fastened with fabric loops all the way up the front, and the neckline and sleeves were trimmed with a delicate row of eyelet lace. She had not worn it since buying it, and was not even sure why she had purchased it, except that when she spotted the dress in an upscale resort-wear shop it had reminded her of one of those perfume ads and she had imagined herself walking down the beach barefoot with the breeze blowing the sheer gauze around her legs and moonlight streaming through her hair...and when she pictured herself wearing it she was beautiful, carefree and content.

  She might never be beautiful, but the dress was every bit as flattering as its exorbitant price tag had promised it would be. The long waist molded her slim figure and emphasized the roundness of her breasts, while the scooped neckline somehow managed to soften her shoulders and make her height look less angular. The lavishly full skirt fell just below her calves and clung to her legs when she moved, making her feel feminine and romantic. She took advantage of her curly hair by pulling it up and away from her face with mother-of-pearl combs, letting it just graze the back of her shoulders in wispy strands. She didn't want the transformation to be so dramatic that Casey wouldn't recognize her, so she used the makeup brush sparingly, darkening her lashes with mascara and applying just enough blush and peach lip gloss to give her face color.

  Casey was ten minutes early, so she didn't have time for long critical looks in the mirror or second thoughts. When, a little breathless and flushed from wrestling the dog out of her way, she opened the door and saw the look in Casey's eyes she knew second thoughts were not necessary.

  He looked different, too, in a blazer and tan trousers, with the top button of his shirt casually open at the throat. His hair was brushed away from his forehead, but little effort had been made to tame the curls, and in the dying sun it seemed to be fringed with gold. His eyes, as they went over her, lightened and darkened with appreciation and surprise and she knew he meant it when he said softly, "You look lovely."

  Rabbit had stopped growling and lunging as soon as he recognized Casey, so Lyn released his collar and straightened up. She could feel color tingle in her cheeks as she looked at him—the warmth of pleasure, and excitement, and nervous delight—like a woman going on a first date.

  "Thank you," she replied. "You do, too. Do you want to come in, or should we leave?"

  He glanced at his watch. "We should probably get started. Do you have a jacket?"

  She turned back into the room for Pat's jacket—a white silk blouson style that Lyn hoped fervently her sister would not mind her borrowing. "Where are we going?"

  "A place called Quinlin's."

  "I don't think I've heard of it."

  "That's because it's at the beach."

  "The beach?" She turned, staring at him. "But we're nowhere near the beach!"

  "It's just a little over an hour's drive away." And then he grinned. "Hey, when I start out to impress a woman, I go all the way."

  "I should say so," she murmured, her eyes sparkling with delight. She should have known; an evening with Casey would not be just a date, it would be an adventure.

  Then she looked at Rabbit, and her spirits fell. He was sitting before Casey, his tail swishing back and forth along the floor, watching his idol expectantly. A model of behavior now, but as soon as they left the house...

  "I don't know, Casey," she said reluctantly. "I hadn't expected to be gone that long, and Rabbit..."

  "No problem," Casey said. "Bring him along."

  "While we have dinner? Are you sure?"

  "He won't be any trouble at all," Casey promised her. "But..." He leaned down and spoke to Rabbit sternly. "You have to sit in the back seat, and no moving in on my girl."

  Lyn laughed, but mostly from the unexpected thrill that went through her at being referred to as "his girl."

  There were advantages to a long drive to dinner that Lyn had never imagined before. There was something about the isolated enclosure of the car and the long miles of flat Florida landscape disappearing behind them that encouraged conversation, and a kind of intimacy they had never shared before. Casey told her about his childhood, the trauma of losing his parents at the age of thirteen, of the following years on his grandmother's farm. He did not try to make the stories amusing or introspective, but she saw the loneliness of a young boy growing up on an isolated farm with no friends his own age, turning to animals for companionship. She saw the pain he felt when he lost his last living relative, and then, only a few years later, his fiancée. She understood him, quietly and completely. But she could not help wondering whether Casey understood himself half as well.

  He encouraged her to talk about herself and for the first time she did not feel inhibited about doing so. Because he, too, had lost his parents at an early age, he understood about growing up without an anchor. She told him about Pat, and a lifetime spent torn between resigned jealousy and unquestioned adoration of her older sister. She even went on to tell him about Pat's reason for staying longer in North Carolina, and for a while they discussed the pros, cons, and possible outcomes of Pat's new relationship. It felt strange to be discussing family matters with an outsider, but at the same time comfortable. Lyn had never known anyone except her sister with whom she could talk about things of consequence, and it was good to have a friend.

  Perhaps the most significant thing that happened on that drive to the beach was that she began to think of Casey as a friend.

  The sun was down by the time the citrus groves gave way to sea grass and sand. The twilight was a rich, deep purple, and the humidity of the day had been swept away by a pleasantly cool breeze that smelled of salt. Casey parked the car in front of a rambling building whose aged plank facade was deceptively rustic; from the number of foreign luxury cars parked in the lot, the restaurant was not only extremely popular, but very upscale.

  Rabbit, whose distrust of automobiles was still so intense that he spent most of his time trying to squeeze himself underneath the back seat, had been so quiet on the drive up that Lyn had almost forgotten about him
. When Casey stopped the car, however, and walked around to help Lyn out, the dog made a lunge for the door and it took both of them to wrestle him back inside.

  When the door was closed, Rabbit began jumping from one window to the other, scratching hysterically at the glass and barking in a wild, high-pitched screech that made Lyn want to cover her ears and slink away in embarrassment.

  "Oh, Casey, what are we going to do?" She glanced around anxiously. "We can't leave him here while we eat. He'll tear up your car. Or someone will report us for cruelty to animals. We can't go inside and leave him here."

  "Well, I can't say that I blame him," Casey agreed. "I wouldn't want to be locked in a car for two hours, either. I guess we'll just have to take him with us."

  "What? Inside the restaurant? Are you crazy?"

  "Leave it to me," he assured her.

  He opened the car again and reached inside the glove compartment. When he brought Rabbit out on his leash, the dog was sporting a bright yellow cape on which was inscribed the words "Guide Dog in Training."

  Lyn looked at Rabbit, who was dashing around Casey's ankles, sniffing the ground with total oblivion to his promotion to the elevated rank of guide dog, and then at Casey. Her tone was dubious. "No one is going to believe he's a guide dog. And no one is going to believe you're blind."

  Casey admitted, “This is completely unethical and I wouldn’t do it for anyone but you. But I didn't drive an hour for seafood just to have my dinner spoiled by a canine terrorist. And who knows? He might grow up to be a guide dog."

  Lyn was so pleased to hear Casey suggest that Rabbit might grow up to be anything useful that she swallowed any remaining objections she might have.

  With a sharp click of his tongue, Casey brought Rabbit to a semiheel, and the dog was so overwhelmed by the sights and sounds of his new environment that he walked more or less obediently beside Casey toward the restaurant. "Just act like you know what you're doing," Casey advised Lyn, and Lyn plastered a fake smile on her face and tried to stop glancing -around nervously every time someone looked their way.

  The restaurant was divided into indoor and outdoor sections, and the maitre d's stand was outside. When Casey gave his name and their reservation time, the maitre d' took one look at him and replied, just as Lyn had expected, "I'm sorry, sir, dogs are not allowed in the restaurant."

  "That's okay," Casey replied pleasantly. "We prefer to sit outside anyway. That table over there, overlooking the ocean, will be fine."

  The maitre d' cleared his throat. "What I meant, sir, is that this is a food service establishment. Health laws do not permit pets under any circumstances."

  Casey nodded thoughtfully. "I understand. We'll leave if you ask us to, of course, but you should know that the law also provides that guide dogs cannot be denied access to any public building—including restaurants."

  The maitre d' looked over the stand, noticed the yellow cape, and registered momentary confusion. "I didn't realize. I don't know...I guess it would be all right." He looked over his shoulder as though seeking information from a superior, but finding no one in sight, finally shrugged his shoulders. "Come with me, please."

  Lyn did not release her breath until they were seated, menus in hand, with Rabbit lying quietly and unobtrusively under the table. "I don't believe it," she said, sinking back into the chair. "The things you get away with..."

  Casey shrugged. "It is a law, you know. And the dog's not bothering anybody."

  "And that's another thing!" Lyn exclaimed softly. "He's not running wild, he's not growling at people— he's just lying there, acting like a trained dog! How do you do it?"

  Casey opened his menu. "For one thing, it's culture shock. He's too scared to leave my side. For another. .." He flashed a grin at her. "I've got my foot on his leash."

  Lyn smiled, shaking her head in wonder. "You know, you drive me crazy sometimes... but I really envy you. You always have everything under control, nothing ever goes wrong when you're in charge. I guess you're the most together person I've ever met."

  An odd expression crossed his face, like surprise, or even denial. "Is that what you think?"

  "Don't you?"

  It was strange. Until now, if anyone had asked him that question his answer would have been an unqualified yes. He liked his life. He had spent years working and building to get everything the way he liked it. His days were full and his nights were peaceful, and until he had met Lyn he thought he had everything he wanted. But now... something had changed. He wasn't so sure what he wanted anymore.

  He looked at her for another moment, then turned his eyes to the menu. His tone was negligent, but it seemed to hide a deeper emotion. "I'm almost thirty five years old; I share my meals with a dog and my bed with three cats. Does that sound like a man who's got his life together to you?"

  Now Lyn was surprised, and cautiously intrigued. "I thought you liked it that way."

  He raised his eyes to her again. They were frank, and unapologetic, and as deep as the sea that whispered around them. "It's the way things are," he said simply. "And the way I am. Not the best of all possible worlds, but the best I can do."

  "What would you change?" she asked curiously.

  But a spark came into his eyes, and the moment of seriousness was gone. "My sleeping companions?" he suggested.

  Lyn lifted an eyebrow in amused reproval, but she chose not to reply to that.

  If Lyn could have ordered a fantasy evening, it would have been precise in every detail to the one she shared with Casey. The warm breeze that tickled the curls around her face and caused the candles to dance within their crystal globes; the sighing rush of the sea as the indigo tide swept in, closer and closer, until it licked the pilings beneath her feet.. .and Casey, strong and bronzed, sitting across from her, the breeze occasionally tugging at his hair, his eyes crinkling with a smile, moonlight and candlelight turning his eyes to rich velvet.

  The meal was a sensual orgy in itself, the vegetables so sweet and tender they could have been plucked only minutes before they reached the kitchen, flaky grouper in an exquisite pecan sauce, a white wine so delicate it barely whispered across the tongue... And there was Casey. The curve of his long fingers as he lifted his wineglass fascinated her, the sound of his voice or his low chuckle vibrated through her body with chords of pleasure. Her eyes kept returning to his throat, and the dip of his collarbone as revealed by the open button of his shirt, and she thought how handsome he was, and how lucky she was to be with him, and how different her life had become in the short time she'd known him.

  The moon, when it rose, was as perfect as an oil painting, reflecting shimmering ripples off the ocean from horizon to tide line, and Lyn sat sipping her coffee, enchanted by the effect. "I don't know whether that was the most delicious meal I've ever tasted," she said, "or whether it only seemed that way because I'm having such a good time."

  His smile was like a mirror of her own contentment. "I hope it's a little of both. Would you like to take a walk?"

  She closed her eyes and breathed in the sea air scented with candle wax and gourmet aromas. "No," she sighed. "Yes. I want to stay here forever. And I want to walk on the beach all night. Oh, Casey, what a wonderful evening. Thank you."

  He reached across the table and took her hand. "If I had known it would make you this happy, I would have thought of it sooner." He squeezed her fingers briefly, tenderly. "Come on. Let's walk."

  They skirted the restaurant and walked down onto the beach, staying on the firm sand where the cold water did not reach. They laughed as Rabbit, released from his leash, investigated the lapping tide cautiously, then yelped and ran back to them when the cold water hit his nose. Casey held her hand. Lyn thought she couldn't ask for more.

  "Do you know," Casey said after a time, "you might not believe this, but sometimes I think I work too hard. I forget how to relax."

  Lyn chuckled. "You're right, I don't believe it."

  His grin filtered down to her through the moon-drenched night. "Are
you saying I'm a hard taskmaster?"

  "Harder on yourself, I think," Lyn replied, "than on anyone else."

  "You're probably right," he agreed after a moment. "I never thought about it that way."

  "I guess expecting too much from yourself is one of the prices you pay for being perfect."

  "Am I perfect?"

  "Ask Rabbit."

  Casey reached down and petted the dog who was pressed close to his knee, keeping a wary eye on the water. "He's just a dumb dog, what does he know? Here, Rabbit, get out of here. Go play." He picked up a piece of driftwood and tossed it; after a moment of uncertainty, Rabbit ventured forward after it.

  Casey slipped his arm around Lyn's waist and drew her next to him with a grin. "At last, privacy."

  She laughed and leaned her head against his shoulder. The sea breeze blew the folds of her gauze skirt against her legs as she walked, moonlight turned the sand to silver, Casey's body was an oasis of warmth and strength against hers. She felt feminine, beautiful... and in love.

  She wasn't, of course. She couldn't be in love with this man. She couldn't be in love with anyone, but most especially not with Casey Carmichael, who was everything she didn't need in her life, who was disruptive and demanding and autocratic, who made her angry and left her frustrated and made her think far too much. No, she couldn't be in love with him... but it was oh, so nice to feel as though she were.

  With a sudden rush of heady delight, she slid her arm around his waist in an impulsive embrace. In a smooth dance of motion, Casey turned her into his arms and kissed her.

  His kiss was as sweet as spring water, as gently infusive as drenching moonlight. She opened her mouth beneath his and let him melt into her, his breath flowing through her, his heat swelling in her veins and traveling sluggishly through her limbs with the tingling, life-giving power of a potent drug. She ached for him, body and; soul. She needed him, as surely as she needed air to breathe and earth beneath her feet. And then he moved away,