Sweet Pretender Page 4

  The road appeared to have no edges. It was like a fairy-tale setting from Brigadoon emerging only once every hundred years. Were they to stray too far either right or left, they might tumble on and on into eternity. A sleek black dog of indeterminate pedigree trotted out of nowhere. After sniffing their heels, it fell in behind them.

  "Is he yours?" Melissa asked, noticing Jeremy's casual acceptance of the animal's presence. "Yes and no. He's the village watchdog, you might say."

  "Oh?"

  "Trained from birth to rip limb from limb anyone who dares to venture into Sandgate without permission of the town council."

  "Mmm." A surreptitious glance at his profile told her that while he was joking, he was still miffed. "Am I in danger?" she asked, feigning fear.

  "Not if you stay close to me." He snaked a possessive arm around her slender middle and pulled her against him. "Closer. That's it. Let him believe we're friends."

  The innocence of the dog's expression and its wagtail belied Jeremy's threatening words, and she couldn't resist one small giggle. "I'm sorry," she said, not missing the stress he'd placed on the word "believe."

  "You were right. I have been touchy. I suppose it's because I'm tired. It's been a pleasant day, but a long one."

  Though it was the best excuse she could offer, she wasn't really tired. She could have walked on and on without feeling a need to rest. For some indefinable reason she had dipped into a new storehouse of energy.

  Jeremy stopped walking so abruptly that she was jolted off balance. He caught her to set her right, and the firm pressure of his fingers, warm, alien yet familiar, on her bare arm, sent a tremor through her that crimped her toes and all but set her teeth to chattering.

  Would he consider her stumbling to be an often-used attempt at flirtation? Certainly he was a man used to the wiles of women, unless the women of Sandgate didn't recognize a good thing when they saw it. However, when with difficulty she forced her eyes to his, she knew he wasn't judging her. The bottomless depth of his gaze erased all notions she may have harbored that he thought of her as a child. Never had she felt so desirable. Never had she felt so strongly that she was about to be kissed.

  Should she allow it? Would she have a choice? Her lips tingled deliciously in anticipation. He seemed already to be tasting them.

  "We've made our peace then?" he asked.

  She nodded, not trusting her voice.

  "Good. Then I'd like to see to your education."

  She swallowed hard. "To my what?"

  "Don't scowl like that." His laugh was deep and genuine as he touched a finger to the place between her eyebrows where a frown might begin, making it the center of all her sensation. His teeth were squarish and very white in contrast to his deeply tanned skin. He must have spent many hours in the sun. She could visualize him now, climbing about on the gigantic frame of one of his daredevil rides. "I only meant I want to teach you how much fun there can be in the childlike pleasures."

  "Such as?"

  "I have some business in Westerly tomorrow. There's a fair nearby, and I'd like to spirit you away with me, if your friend won't object."

  "No. That is—I'm not sure." Melissa wondered if she dared to say yes without checking first with Arlene.

  "As I recall," he went on, "there's nothing earth-shaking on schedule for tomorrow afternoon. And I promise to have you back in time for the dance in the evening. You are planning to attend, I suppose."

  A few persuasive words were all she needed. The prospect of going anywhere with Jeremy—to a carnival or to a mud-wrestling match—made her want to shout her acceptance.

  "I don't see why I wouldn't be able to go to the fair," she managed, sounding as offhand as she could. Mentally she was going through her wardrobe, deciding what she could wear that would appear casual and still knock him off his feet.

  "Good. There's just one thing I have to know before we go any farther."

  A flux of vague possibilities passed through Melissa's mind, drawing her out of her reverie. She tried to sound unruffled. "What's that?"

  "Are we headed in the right direction? Do you know where you're staying?"

  "Oh—yes," she answered, relieved. For a moment she'd feared he would ask about her friend, and she hadn't yet decided what she should say. The mention of Brian could definitely throw cold water on their relationship at this embryonic stage. Without being told the entire story, Jeremy would never understand why she had chosen to attend the reunion with a man she knew only casually. And she didn't want to—she couldn't— resort to more lies. The ones imposed on her already by the masquerade would be hard enough to explain away if the need ever came.

  "Would you like to give me a hint?" he teased, puzzling at her hesitation.

  "Oh, of course. Let me see. We passed the War Memorial," she said slowly. "Checkpoint one. And the public library."

  "Checkpoint two. Right."

  "Now." Mentally she reversed the route she had taken through town. "We follow the stone steps up to the next street. Hilldale?"

  "Hillcrest. Right." His arm went around her to steady her as they climbed and remained when she no longer needed steadying. Or did she?

  She felt as if a song inside her were ready to burst free, as it happened in so many old movie musicals. What's happening to me? she wondered. She turned down dates sometimes—often—simply because she didn't like to leave Arlene alone. Or because she felt as if she'd prefer a quiet evening at home. Yet here she was, dragged into a ridiculous two weeks of role playing, partly because of an attraction for one man. And now I'm hoping for the kisses of another.

  And you came along to watch after me? Arlene would squeal.

  "In another minute we'll be running out of street," Jeremy cautioned her, his hand moving up her back in a tentative caress.

  "At the corner we jog left, climb the hill and pass a yard with a stone menagerie. Ducks, rabbits, deer."

  "Mrs. Blaker loves animals," he said dryly. "But only those that don't bark, eat or have to be exercised."

  "Stonehurst Street should come in here soon." Melissa was less sure of her bearings now. As the road climbed higher, she looked for a broken handrail she'd noticed earlier. There it was. And there was the street sign. Stonehurst.

  It was too soon. Much too soon. If only she had met Jeremy in Albany, or at least under normal circumstances, she would have invited him in, and they could really talk and get to know each other.

  "I'm staying at the house on the corner," she said. "The one with two flights of stairs and the ship's model over the door."

  She hadn't noticed until then that Jeremy had pulled back and slowed. Now he stopped. "You're staying at the Shenley house?" His question sounded like an accusation.

  "I don't know the name of the people who own it. We're only taking it for the bicentennial. I understand the woman who owns it has been ill, and the steps were getting to be too much for her. She's staying with her daughter until…" Confusion robbed her of her speech. Was it anger she read in his face? Surprise? Had he actually paled, or was it the eerie glow of the street lantern?

  "You're here with Natalie Kerr."

  "How did you know?"

  "Talk about the reunion has gone on for months. Who'll be coming in from where and where they'll be staying."

  "And you know Natalie?"

  "Does that surprise you?" The strangeness of his tone made prickles rise on her skin.

  "I suppose not. Doesn't everybody know everybody else in Sandgate?" The lightness in her voice didn't work. The moments of magic had flown, and they both knew it.

  A foghorn sounded, and Jeremy looked in the direction of the sea. "You just happened to come to Eli's shack."

  "Yes, I've told you. Some children sent me."

  "You didn't come looking for me?"

  "What are you suggesting?"

  "Don't you know?"

  "Will you stop talking in riddles? What's wrong? If you know Natalie, and there are hard feelings between you, surely you could—"

>   "Hard feelings? No."

  "Then, I don't—"

  "I believe I'll forgo those stairs," he said tersely, taking an unsteady step backward to put distance between them. "You can make your way from here alone."

  "Of course, I can." She wanted to ask about their plans for the next morning. Were they still on? No. How could they be?

  "I'll watch to see that you get safely into the house."

  A burning behind her eyes warned Melissa that she might cry. She mustn't. "Don't bother," she snapped. "We're in the upright, uptight, honorable village of Sandgate, remember? How could anything unpleasant possibly happen to me here?"

  She glanced back as she reached the front door and opened it, but Jeremy turned abruptly, without a parting signal, and disappeared into the mist. The black dog trotted after him.

  Well, she thought philosophically, fighting back the fey sadness that clutched at her. Everyone had a bittersweet memory or two of the man who got away. And nine out of ten times, it was for the best.

  "Wherever have you been?" Natalie's voice was strident. "Jean has been impossible, fretting over you."

  This, Melissa didn't need. "I was walking on the beach."

  "In this fog?" The woman pressed two fingers to the bridge of her nose. "Good heavens, Your clothes. Were you walking on the beach or rolling on it?" Melissa considered a reply appropriate to her own troubled mood, but rejected it. "A bit of both. It's worn me out."

  "I'm not surprised." Natalie waited at the foot of the stairs as Melissa started up. There was only a yellowish light in the narrow hallway and with her hair drawn back and her slim body draped in her stark black robe, she looked like the menacing housekeeper in an amateur production of Rebecca. "I do hope no one saw you. People here tend to frown on the, shall we say, carefree style of dress. Sandgate is not tolerant."

  Sandgate. Sandgate. Melissa gritted her teeth and kept climbing the stairs. "It was hard for me to see my own hand in front of my face in the fog. I don't think I've disgraced you."

  "Melissa?"

  "Yes?" Now what?

  "Jean is determined that you accompany us to the dance tomorrow evening. It's to be an elegant affair, and the finest families will be in attendance. Do—do you have anything to wear?"

  There was something so ludicrous about the woman's anxious face, Melissa almost laughed. Natalie was terrified that she would tag along to their fancy ball clad in tatters.

  "I have something suitable."

  "Splendid." The woman's tight smile said she wasn't convinced. "I'll say good-night then. Please don't disturb your sister. I want her fresh and rested in the morning."

  Catching her own reflection in the mirror at the top of the stairs, Melissa groaned. Her hostess had good reason to fret. She looked a fright. Her hair was streaming. Her clothes were soiled, and her face was pale. It was little wonder Jeremy York thought better of his impetuous invitation to spend the day together. She likely wouldn't see him again. He'd expressed a definite disdain for the festivities and hadn't bothered to attend the opening-night banquet.

  "Don't mind Nat," someone said.

  Startled, Melissa spun around to see Brian standing near the window of the room she'd passed, smoking a cigarette in the darkness. He crushed it out and came toward her.

  "I don't mind her," Melissa said. "Much. But I'll have a celebration of my own when all this is over."

  "Don't judge the whole community by my sister."

  "I'm not," she assured him, remembering with chagrin the changeable Mr. York and his uppity talk of private beaches and privileged natives. If only she hadn't leapt so eagerly at his invitation, she might have kept a little more of her pride intact.

  "I have a fantastic idea." Brian pressed a hand against the wall above her head and looked down at her through a thick fringe of amber lashes. "There's a heap of history hereabouts, and I'd like someone to tour with. Tomorrow morning, we'll rise with the sun, toss together a picnic lunch and see everything there is to see."

  Somehow the suggestion didn't tickle her fancy. "Everything?"

  He shrugged one shoulder. "You're absolutely right. We should save something for the next day."

  She squeezed her eyes closed for several seconds, trying to keep her mind on the conversation, when part of it kept drifting back to Jeremy and his strange attitude. "I wouldn't want to take you away from your fellow Sandgators."

  "Sandgators?" His grin made his eyes crinkle boyishly. "You make them sound like a collection of giant lizards."

  "In some cases," she said tightly, "the comparison is probably fitting." The light was out in her sister's room. She could tell by the hefty crack under the door. It was time for her to make a brave attempt at sleep herself. She turned toward her room.

  "What about the picnic?" Brian reminded her.

  "Picnic?" How could she turn him down without hurting his feelings? But her disappointing evening had stolen away her taste for exploring, at least temporarily. "I don't think so. I should get my hair done for the dance."

  "Oh, Melissa." He made a clicking sound with his tongue. "You are magnificent."

  "Why is it I don't feel magnificent?" she asked, knowing perfectly well what kind of picture she made.

  "You really don't know how luscious you are, do you? You're one little lady who doesn't have to twist, bake and spray the life out of a glorious head of hair. Just wear it loose, the way you wore it when I first saw you, and I guarantee, you'll take everyone's breath away."

  "Thank you, sir. I needed those encouraging words more than you know."

  He touched her shoulder again, curving his fingers around it to draw her closer. "Then the picnic's on?"

  "I don't think so." She liked Brian, and if tonight, meeting Jeremy, hadn't happened, she might have welcomed such an outing. But it had happened. "Have you seen the list of reunion activities Natalie posted on the door?"

  "I've seen it."

  "There are so many parties and dances my head is spinning. And I don't know how many of them I'll be expected to attend."

  Downstairs, Natalie could be heard clicking off lights, closing windows and making going-to-bed noises. In a moment she'd be up. Brian was probably thinking the same thing. He edged closer but years of evading unwelcome familiarities alerted Melissa that she was about to be kissed.

  "Good night," she said brightly, making a quick pivot that took her out of Brian's grasp.

  "I'll be up with the sun anyhow," he said. "Just in case you change your mind."

  "I won't," she promised. "Good night."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Though she'd expected to be troubled by dreams of giant Tilt-O-Whirls and hurtling roller coasters, her sleep was surprisingly sound. The house was so still the squawk of the cuckoo clock on the landing seemed calculated to berate her for staying so long in bed.

  "Up with the sun," she muttered on her way to the washroom, noticing that Brian's bedroom door was still closed.

  It was just as well. She'd have an excuse to prowl about on her own. The itinerary Natalie had posted told her that before the dance there would be a round of open house teas, allowing people to visit wherever they pleased and get reacquainted if they were out of towners.

  Surely Melissa wouldn't be missed. A note slipped under her sister's door would explain her whereabouts.

  After donning khaki pants and a shirt for practical hiking, she tied a kelly-green scarf at her throat to add a cheery dash of color. With her hair secured by a green ribbon and a braided string belt about her waist, she was ready.

  The sight of Natalie scribbling away at the desk in the living room took her by surprise. The heavy silence pervading the house had made her believe the woman was a late sleeper.

  "Oh!" She paused with a hand on the banister. "Good morning."

  Natalie whisked jeweled glasses off the end of her nose. "Not off again so early? You haven't even had breakfast."

  "It's difficult to stay in bed when there are so many things to see and do," Melissa said, puzzling a
t the woman's unexpected solicitude.

  "If you'd only wait a few moments, I'm sure Brian will be up and about. He can go with you." Natalie smiled, but the frown line between her eyebrows remained. "Wait. I'll call him."

  "I'd rather you didn't." Now she understood. After last night's escapade, Natalie was convinced that Melissa needed someone to keep her out of trouble. "Your brother has far better things to do than to look after me."

  "He would want me to wake him," the woman insisted, moving toward the stairway.

  "I'll be back in plenty of time for the dance," Melissa promised, weary of the argument. She called back from the doorway. "Enjoy your day."

  She didn't need Jeremy—or Brian. The sky was clear blue, the air was fresh, and the sun was brilliant. There was just the flutter of a breeze to play with the strands of ebony hair that had escaped the green ribbon.

  She'd search the shops on her own. Antiques had always been a special weakness of Melissa's. Not priced-out-of-sight spindly-legged chairs that had once belonged to King Someone-or-Other. But bits of costume jewelry, kitchen hangables from years past and glassy-eyed dolls with frizzled hair.

  She was in luck and discovered a charming little place with dusty corners, cluttered trays and a proprietor who didn't shadow her and try to sell her the contents of the shop. She bought only a glass paperweight, one with a snowstorm inside. So thoroughly immersed was she in her search that the morning flew.

  She wasn't hungry, and she wasn't yet ready to go back to the house. Not with the sea calling to her from below. There was real satisfaction in a lazy, unhurried day such as this one, when she had no one to please but herself.

  When she had made her way down to the sand, she perched on a rock and sat, contentedly watching the herring gulls take their turns at plunging into the foaming breakers. If only she had thought to buy a sketch pad and charcoal, she could capture the scene on her own terms and keep the memory for other times.