Daniel and David Brady arrived in Peppertown on Wednesday afternoon. They entered the big white boarding house like a parade, feet drumming on the hardwood floor, door banging on its hinges, deep bass voices sounding the trumpet call for their sister.
“Clemmie! We’re home.”
Clemmie was in the attic, striving to make a lump of clay resemble a bulldog, Mississippi State University’s mascot. The pottery dog was going to be a Christmas gift for David. Oblivious to the commotion downstairs, she took a fresh lump of clay and added it to the snout. What she had now was an elephant, she decided. And that was nobody’s mascot.
She squashed the clay with the flat of her hand and started over. Nothing she did these days seemed to turn out right. Michael had been gone for a little over a week, and she still hadn’t adjusted. She burned two pans of gingerbread boys, made a batch of French pastry that didn’t rise, stitched the sleeves in Daniel’s Christmas shirt backward, and typed the wrong date on all the church bulletins. Reading Shakespeare made her sad and hearing La Traviata made her cry. She was going to have to do something about herself—and soon.
“Clemmie? Are you up here?”
She threw the lump of clay onto her hobby table and raced toward the door.
“Daniel! David!” She was scooped off her feet by four brawny arms. Her twin brothers, laughing and jostling each other, made a pack saddle with their intertwined arms, and put Clemmie in the seat of honor.
“Put me down, you crazy things.” Tears of joy ran down Clemmie’s cheeks, and she didn’t mean a word she said.
Her brothers ignored her commands, anyhow, just as they had been ignoring them for the last five years. They called it independence and she called it stubbornness.
“You’re going to break your legs,” she admonished as the two strapping young men carried her down the stairs.
“You’ve told us that a hundred times—every time we climbed a tree.” Daniel winked across the top of her head at David.
“It wasn’t the tree I was worried about; it was the garage roof.” The boys had been in the house only two minutes, and Clemmie felt better already. She had missed them so!
“How about all those times she told us we’d catch pneumonia if we didn’t put on our boots and gloves?” David chimed in.
“Yeah. She’s a regular old worrywart.”
Clemmie put her arms around their necks and hugged them close. “How have I managed without you two?”
“By the skin of your teeth, I guess.” Daniel hooked a kitchen chair with his foot, dumped Clemmie onto its seat, then began to prowl through the cabinets. “I’m starved.”
“You always are. Look on the top shelf of the pantry. I made some brownies this morning.” She smiled as her brothers got a handful and began eating as if they hadn’t had a meal in three days. “So, tell me about school.”
“It’s great, except for one thing—David’s got all the women chasing him. That leaves me with zip.”
“How about that hot little number who keeps calling you in the middle of the night?”
“You call ten o’clock the middle of the night?”
“It is when you’re trying to sleep.”
Smiling, Clemmie listened to the good-natured teasing of her brothers. They were exactly what she needed to cure the blues.
Daniel dragged a chair out from the table and straddled it. “So, big Sis, tell me about the movies.”
The change of subject caught her off guard. “The movies?”
“Yeah,” David said. “You emailed us about that big Hollywood producer who came to Peppertown. He sounded cool.”
She knew that in teenage vernacular cool was a supreme compliment, but it was hardly the word she would have chosen to describe Michael. Hot was more appropriate. Even now, sitting in her kitchen with the brisk November winds blowing outside her windows, she felt hot just thinking about Michael Forrest.
“He was cool. As a matter of fact, he was wonderful.” She didn’t see the look David and Daniel exchanged. “While he was here, I got to visit the movie set and watch the filming.”
“What was the movie called?”
“Don’t talk with food in your mouth, David.” He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “Moonlight Madness. Michael even had a part written for Miss Josephine.”
“Michael?”
“The movie producer, knucklehead. Don’t you remember Clemmie’s email? Jeez! No wonder all the women chase me. I’m the one with brains.” David ate the rest of his brownie and even wiped the chocolate off his mouth before he spoke again. “So... will we get to meet the hotshot or what?”
“No. He’s gone back to L.A.”
Clemmie thought she was hiding her heartbreak well, but her twin brothers, ever attuned to the person they loved best in the world, saw the longing in her face. Daniel, who had been born two minutes earlier than his twin and prided himself on being the oldest, signaled to his brother.
“Back in a minute, Clemmie,” he said as he dragged David out into the hallway.
Clemmie was used to the abrupt appearances and departures of teenagers. Instead of wondering what was going on, she rose from her chair and opened the refrigerator. She punched the turkey to see if it would be thawed for tomorrow’s Thanksgiving dinner. This was her brothers’ first visit home since the beginning of the semester, and she wanted everything to be perfect.
She was still testing the turkey when David and Daniel came back into the room.
Daniel took her arm. “Can we have a serious talk, Sis?”
“Of course. It’s not school, is it? I thought you both were doing fine.”
“No. It’s not school.”
“It’s the flowers,” David blurted.
“What flowers?” Clemmie sat back down in her chair.
Behind her back, Daniel made a slashing motion across his throat, then pulled out a chair. This time he sat properly in the seat.
“We saw all those vases of dead flowers in the hallway and the parlor when we came in. One of the cards was still on the hall table. It said Michael.”
“Yeah.” David scooted his chair closer to Clemmie. “Now, before you go trying to act like we’re still thirteen and you’re the mama, we want to know how come you looked so sad when we mentioned that dude’s name and why you kept all those dead flowers? If you’re upset about something, we want to know. Maybe we can help you for once.”
Daniel took her hand. “It’s because we love you. And it’s high time we grew up and started taking some of the responsibility around here.”
Clemmie glanced from one brother to the other. What they had said was true. They weren’t thirteen anymore. The three months they’d been at college, their shoulders had broadened, their faces had matured, and they had grown half an inch taller. What was more, they were offering to share a part of her life.
“How sweet of both of you.” She smiled at them. “I’m afraid there’s nothing you can do about this problem. I simply fell in love with the wrong man.”
David and Daniel sat back in their chairs, astonished. Love was one of those words that got bandied about a lot on the college campus, but nobody took it seriously. And yet, here was their sister, the epitome of responsibility, saying that she had fallen in love.
Daniel was the first to recover. “That’s great, Sis. That you’re in love, I mean.”
“Yeah. He must have loved you, too, or he wouldn’t have sent all those flowers.”
Clemmie had to smile. They made love sound so simple. “He might have. I don’t know. Love was something Michael and I never talked about.”
“Why not?” This from the impulsive David.
“Because it wasn’t appropriate. His work is in Hollywood and my responsibilities are here.” She took their hands and squeezed. “Don’t you two know that I would never abandon you?”
“Abandon us? Golly dang, Sis, David and I are grown. We can take care of ourselves.”
“Even if Michael loved me—and I’m not saying he did—you two could never manage school and keeping the house.”
“We can manage with our school loans and our after- school jobs. Anyhow, we love this house because you are here, Clemmie. Until we have families of our own, home is wherever you are.”
“That’s right,” David added. “I think Hollywood would be neat.”
Clemmie had always thought of her brothers as young boys who needed caring for. Now she was astonished at their grown-up wisdom.
“I’m proud of you,” she said. “I never dreamed you’d feel this way. Anyhow, it’s too late. Michael’s in L.A. and I’m here, and that’s that.” She pushed back her chair and stood up. “Tonight we’re having a party, just you and me and Miss Josephine and all the other boarders. It will be a celebration of your Thanksgiving homecoming.”
o0o
Later, after finishing her discussion with her brothers, Clemmie set about making the house festive for the impromptu party, dragging out tinsel from last year’s Christmas tree and draping it up the staircase banister. She sent David and Daniel to the grocery store for a supply of balloons. Harvey came home early, stowed his tuba in his room, and pitched in with the party preparations.
By eight o’clock that evening, the old boarding house looked like a cross between a Christmas pageant, a birthday party, and a Fourth of July picnic. Clemmie, her brothers and all her boarders were gathered in the parlor.
“I propose a toast to Miss Josephine, Peppertown’s movie star.” Clemmie lifted her glass of homemade wine. “Long may you shine.”
A chorus of agreement filled the room.
“To Thanksgiving,” Harvey said.
“To life,” Miss Josephine added.
“To Clemmie.” Daniel stepped away from the small gathering beside the sofa and took his sister’s hand. “All of us here want to show our gratitude for the many ways you make our life comfortable and pleasant and easy. And so—” pausing dramatically, he reached into his pocket “—we’re giving you this gift.” He pulled out a one-way ticket to L.A.
o0o
Thanksgiving Day was like any other day to Michael. He worked. He’d given the butler, the cook, the maid, and the gardener the day off, of course, but he’d gone to his office as usual. The Spanish project was moving along as fast as he could push it. With each passing day, he felt an increasing urgency to leave the country.
He drove himself, poring relentlessly over scripts, watching screenings until he was bleary-eyed. When he finally left his office, he was so exhausted he had nothing on his mind except a quick shower, a frozen TV dinner, and bed. And he was glad. Exhaustion was the state he’d been striving for. It left him no energy to think.
The house looked quiet when he drove up, no lights, no barking dogs, no family to greet him at the door.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” he muttered as he parked the car.
When he opened his front door, the first thing he noticed was the smell of roast turkey.
“What the heck?” He stood in his marble and tile hallway.
“Welcome home, Michael.”
He heard her before he saw her. The soft Southern voice poured over him like a balm.
“Clemmie?”
Whirling around, he saw her, standing in the doorway, wreathed in a white apron and a smile. It was his cook’s apron, and it was too big for Clemmie. The strings were wrapped twice around her small waist and the bib drooped over her chest. She had flour on her cheek and a shine in her eyes.
Michael stood in the hallway, mesmerized, hardly daring to believe his eyes.
“My brothers and my boarders took up a collection and bought me a ticket to Hollywood. They seemed to think I should come.”
Clemmie’s cheeks flushed hot, and she knew she was babbling, but she didn’t know what else to do. Michael had made no move toward her, and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. All the things she’d planned to say had departed her whirling brain.
“I knew where you lived, of course. Your address was in my guest book. When I got to L.A., though, I was a little intimidated. I found Rick’s phone number, and he met me at the airport. He got somebody to let me in your house. A man named Greaser Johnson, I believe.”
“Rick and I met him at one of my parties. He was upstairs going through my female guests’ purses. He’s a cat burglar.”
“Good grief. You mean I consorted with a criminal?”
Michael smiled. “Still the same innocent Clemmie. Your reputation is intact, my sweet. He’s reformed now. Straight as an arrow... except when somebody like Rick talks him into straying.”
Now that they had exhausted the subject of how she had come and how she had gotten into his house, neither of them knew what to say. Clemmie pressed her palms together, waiting for some sign from Michael—welcome, rejection, anything. He was so still he barely seemed to be breathing. His expression was fierce, and he studied her until she grew almost faint from nerves.
Finally he spoke. “I noticed you have a soft spot for strays. Is this a charity visit, Clemmie?”
Heaven help me to know what to do, she thought. She certainly couldn’t blurt out that she loved him, not with him looking as remote as Alaska.
“No. It’s not a charity visit. Call it friendship.”
“Do you have a place to stay?”
“No.”
A breathless silence descended on them once more. It stretched out until Clemmie’s nerves were twanging. She reached up and pushed her hair back from her face.
Something snapped in Michael. He moved swiftly across the tiled floor. When he was only inches from Clemmie he stopped.
“You have flour on your face.”
“Oh?” Her hand fluttered upward.
He caught her hand. “When you pushed your hair back you smeared it across your cheek.” Releasing her hand, he reached up and gently rubbed her cheek. “Here.” His fingers lingered, caressing the soft skin he’d dreamed about for almost two hellish weeks. “That should take care of it.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“You’re welcome.” With desire and need screaming along his nerve endings, he stepped back. “You can stay here.”
“You’re sure? I don’t want to be a bother.”
“The house is big. Nobody will bother you.”
She wept inside. This conversation wasn’t at all the way she had imagined. Thirty thousand feet in the air she’d dreamed of a different welcome, of Michael opening his arms and his heart to her. Now it seemed that nothing had changed. Neither distance nor time had made him more receptive to love. She should never have come to Hollywood. There was nothing to do but make the best of a bad decision.
She turned up the corners of her mouth in the imitation of a bright smile. “That’s very generous of you. I’ll leave first thing in the morning.”
“No.” He hadn’t realized he’d spoken so harshly until she flinched. Cursing himself, cursing the fates, he softened his voice. “You can stay as long as you like. My friends are always welcome here.”
“I’ll think about that tomorrow. Right now, why don’t we eat the turkey?”
“Is that what I smelled when I came in the house?”
“Yes. I talked Rick into helping me buy a few groceries. Your pantry was almost empty.”
His laughter was genuine. For the first time since he’d entered his house, he relaxed.
“Still pampering everybody in sight, aren’t you, Clementine Brady?”
“A body has to eat, and I do love cooking. Anyhow, it’s Thanksgiving.”
“I never knew it was until you walked through my door.” He draped an arm across her shoulders and led her toward the kitchen. “This house has never smelled so good. Do you mind if I stick my nose in a few pots and pans?”
“I’d love it.” Clemmie’s mother had once told her the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. Watching Michael now, she almost believed it. “Your kitchen is beautifully equipped, Michael. I took a few liberties when I was searching for pots and pans.”
Everything in his kitchen was state of the art, but today was the first time it had ever smelled and felt so homey. Michael replaced the lid on a pot of giblet gravy and smiled at Clemmie.
“Coming here was dangerous, you know.”
“Dangerous?”
“I’m liable to keep you out here...” The lovely look of expectation on her face twisted his gut. “...to cook.”
Right now, cooking was the last thing on his mind, but he didn’t want to give her any false impressions. In spite of the way he felt with her in his house, he had not changed his mind. He was what he was, and he couldn’t change that overnight. Clemmie deserved more.
Standing in his kitchen, surrounded by the smells of Thanksgiving, he hungered for her. He hoped his newfound nobility would hold up under the tension of this unexpected visit. Looking at her now, with her ripe lips and ripe body, he hoped his nobility would last through the evening meal. What he wanted to do was back her up against the kitchen counter and love her until they were both panting.
Clemmie rescued him.
“Your house is beautiful...the parts Rick showed me. That mahogany table in your dining room is especially lovely. I wonder if we might use it tonight? We can make this a very festive occasion.”
“With you, Clemmie, every moment is a festive occasion.” He loved the way she flushed at his remark. Too much. He loved it too much. “I’ll set the table.”
He hurried to the dining room and flung open his china cabinet. The Baccarat crystal and Limoges china rattled on the shelves. He handled the expensive glassware as if it were cheap dime-store plastic. Nothing mattered to him except the woman standing in his kitchen. An alarming thought. He’d have to do better than that or he would never make it through the night.
He made it through the meal. As a matter of fact, he enjoyed the meal so much that he was reluctant to leave the table. He guessed Clemmie must be a mind reader, for she kept the conversation light. Nothing personal, no reminders of those steamy nights in Mississippi when he’d come so close to robbing her of her virginity. He was relieved... and grateful.
“Clemmie, you don’t know what this means to me. I can’t believe you left your home to spend Thanksgiving here.”
“As I said, the one-way ticket was a gift.”
“One way?”
She tried to cover the slip. “You can imagine my surprise when David and Daniel gave it to me. I had planned a big dinner for the boarding house. In fact, the turkey was already thawing. But everybody was so pleased about what they had done. Naturally I couldn’t refuse the gift.”
“Naturally.”
She’d come to him on a one-way ticket. What was her reason? he wondered. The possibilities boggled his mind. And he discovered that he was much too tired to think about them tonight.
“Clemmie, would you like to see L.A. by night?”
“That would be wonderful. But the dishes—”
“They can wait. The maid will be back tomorrow.” He saw the struggle she had with her conscience about leaving dirty dishes on the table, even if the maid was coming the next day. “Humor me, love,” he said lightly.
She did. She walked blithely out the door and left the clean-up job for somebody else. It felt good for once.
“Of course, I wouldn’t want to make a habit of this,” she told Michael as he helped her into her lightweight coat.
He grinned. “Of course not.”
There were three cars in Michael’s garage—a Silver Cloud Rolls-Royce, a Jaguar, and a Toyota pickup truck. He chose the Jag for their outing.
As he drove through Hollywood Hills he felt as if he were seeing his neighborhood for the first time. Clemmie’s approach to sightseeing was the same as her approach to life: she discovered something to love at every turn, and she tried to make every minute count.
She thought all the houses hanging on the side of the Santa Monica mountains were fabulous.
“Your home is the most wonderful, of course,” she said.
He’d never thought of his home as wonderful. It was well-built, architecturally pleasing, and functional.
“Why is that?”
“It’s friendly.”
“Friendly?”
“Yes. That grand courtyard and that fabulous greenhouse just hold their arms out in welcome. Don’t you feel it, Michael?”
“Only since you came.”
She pinned her hopes on that phrase... and on his smile. Across the other side of the car, he was smiling as he had in Peppertown, with joy and a certain dare-devil charm that gave her great pleasure. She leaned her head against the plush leather seat and sighed.
“Tired?”
“No. Blissful.”
Michael thought of her one-way ticket again. Since it was dark and he was driving and couldn’t do much with his hands even if he wanted to, he risked asking a loaded question.
“And what is the reason for your bliss?”
The comfortable darkness made her brave. “You, Michael.”
They were headed northwest now, into the fertile San Fernando Valley. Michael drove awhile, thinking about what she had said. He didn’t want to give her the wrong idea, but no answer at all seemed cruel. Abruptly he swung the car onto a small gravel road that led up into the mountains. He parked on a mountain overlook and cut the engine.
“I’ve never known a woman like you, Clemmie. You are totally unselfish.” He turned so he could see her. The moonlight slashed across her cheek and highlighted her vamp’s mouth. “And far too desirable.” He reached out and gently touched her cheek.
She covered his hand with her own. For her, it was all or nothing. She’d taken the risk of coming to Hollywood uninvited, and now it was time to take the final risk.
“I want you, too, Michael. But it’s much more than desire, much more than need. When you first came to Peppertown, I saw you as my chance for excitement and glamour and even a taste of sex. The only problem was, you developed scruples... and I fell in love with you.”
His hand trembled on her cheek. When he started to speak, she put her free hand over his lips. “Please don’t say anything yet. Let me say what I have to say before I lose my courage.”
“I’m listening, Clemmie.”
“I didn’t come out here for a ring or a wedding or even a commitment. I came merely to tell you that I love you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened in my life, and I couldn’t let you go without telling you exactly how I feel.”
His hand left her cheek and caressed her lips. “I’ve dreamed of you every night. I’ve pictured you here in L.A., in my house, in my arms, in my bed. But there’s always something wrong with the picture. An affair doesn’t fit you, Clemmie. Even life in Hollywood doesn’t seem right for you. You’re too innocent, too natural, too good.” He gave a rueful smile. “Although seeing you here does lead me to wonder if I’ve been wrong.”
“I’ll have an affair with you. I can get a job out here.”
“What about your brothers? The boarding house?”
“My brothers have student loans. Those can be increased. Harvey’s watching after the house now, and I can eventually find a buyer. And I’ll find a good place for Miss Josephine. She has no one except me, you know.”
Michael pulled her into his arms and pressed his face against her hair. “Ah, Clemmie, you tempt me so.”
He held her that way for a while, tenderly, pressing her so close he could feel her heart beating against his chest. And he kept a tight rein on his passion.
Finally she lifted her head.
“Michael?”
“You wouldn’t have to take a job. You wouldn’t even have to sell your house. I’m a wealthy man, Clemmie. I can afford to support you and your brothers and Miss Josephine and keep all the houses in Mississippi you want.” He gave her a smile, and she thought it was the saddest one she’d ever seen. “The answer is no, my sweet. I would never forgive myself if I made you a kept woman.”
Burrowing her face into his chest, she hugged him tightly. “And I would never have forgiven myself if I hadn’t tried.”
Michael cupped her face. “Clemmie, don’t ever settle for an affair... with anybody.”
“I never thought I would. And perhaps, even with you, I wouldn’t have—not for long. But loving you as I do, it seemed the best thing to say.” She smiled at him. “Do you know that you really are a knight in shining armor, Michael Forrest?”
“Why do you say that?’’
“You’ve rescued me from my own misguided intentions.”
He started the car and headed back down the mountain to his home in Hollywood Hills.
o0o
It was past midnight when Clemmie went to bed. Michael had shown her into a guest room that was down the hall from his own bedroom. Actually it wasn’t a room: it was a suite of rooms—a sitting room, bedroom and bath in luscious peach colors that made her feel pampered. She tried her best to hang on to that feeling—pampered. As long as she could concentrate on that, she could push aside her other feelings—defeat, disappointment, heartbreak.
Fastening her robe high around her neck, she sat down at the vanity and picked up her hairbrush. She always gave her hair one hundred stokes at night. The small routine was soothing.
o0o
Downstairs Michael sat in his leather chair and stared at the bookshelves along the wall of his den. He was a collector of books. He had some first editions of the greats—Herman Melville, Mark Twain, John Steinbeck. He had a few original letters of Cotton Mather and Dashiell Hammett and some of the Mark Twain papers. His collection was the envy of bibliophiles for miles around.
Underneath his feet was an Oriental rug. The amount he’d paid for it would have put Clemmie’s brothers through college. The furniture was Louis XIV, original, and his walls were hung with Matisse and Picasso.
For all the thought he gave his material possessions, he might as well have been sitting in a stable surrounded by hay and cows. His thoughts were centered on one woman—Clemmie. Right now she was upstairs in one of his guest bedrooms.
And she loved him.
The thought haunted him, taunted him and finally prodded him from his chair. He paced his room, a prisoner of his own thoughts. No matter what excuses he had made for holding back from Clemmie—calling himself a rake, a jaded Don Juan, a cynical reckless bachelor—he’d still been caught in her tender trap. And yet, now that she had come to Hollywood, he didn’t feel trapped at all. Actually he felt a soaring freedom, as if he had been waiting all his life for this moment, for this woman who held the key to his prison.
What was he to do about it? Stopping by his liquor cabinet, he poured himself a good shot of scotch. He’d be going on location in Spain in another month if he pushed hard enough. Maybe he could just drift until then, let things take their natural course. She’d go back to Peppertown and forget about him. And what would he do? Keep on running?
The scotch burned his throat going down. Suddenly he saw Clemmie’s face, heard her voice. I came merely to tell you that I love you.
He set the glass on a table with such force the amber liquid sloshed onto the polished mahogany. Then he was off and running. He took the stairs two at a time. When he reached the end of the hallway, he had to stop and get his breath.
Praying for composure and the right words, he pushed open the door.
“Thank God you’re wearing white cotton.”
Clemmie was sitting beside the vanity brushing her hair, and her cheeks went bright pink when she looked up.
Michael laughed. “I feel like a fool.”
“You look like a hero. Won’t you come in?”
“I’ve been a perfect jackass, Clemmie. I probably should have stopped and given this some thought, but now that I’m here, I guess there’s only one way to say it.”
Her hand went to her throat. The gesture made Michael ache.
“I love you, Clemmie.”
“Michael!”
He stood in the doorway, taking courage from the solid feel of his well-built house.
“I’ve loved you for a long, long time. It just took me awhile to admit it, even to myself.”
Clemmie slowly put the hairbrush on the table and folded her hands in her lap. She was filled with such jubilation she could barely sit still, but she forced herself. She’d flown two thousand miles to declare her love for Michael and to find out how he felt about her. She wasn’t about to spoil everything by a wrong move now.
He came toward her. When he was close enough, he knelt at her feet and took her hand. “I’m asking you to marry me, Clemmie.”
“I’ve always wanted an old-fashioned proposal.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes. Oh, yes, yes, yes.”
She flung her arms around him and almost toppled them both to the floor. Michael steadied her then stood up, pulling her into his arms.
Until that moment he hadn’t believed it was possible for a man to feel such happiness. Holding Clemmie, he buried his face in her hair, absorbing the fragrance of her, the feel of her. A thousand years would not be enough time to show his love for this woman.
“Say yes again, Clemmie. I want to know that I heard you correctly.”
She reached up and gently cupped his face. “Michael Forrest, I love you. It will give me great honor to be your wife.”
“My wife...I like the sound of those words.” He caught one of her hands and kissed the palm. As always, one taste of her was not enough. He fitted her arms around his neck and lowered his mouth to her. The kiss was heady with passion and rich with promise.
Groaning, he backed them toward the bed. The mattress squeaked under their weight. Clemmie’s dark hair fanned against the covers. Propping himself on his elbows, Michael lifted the silken strands, letting them drift slowly through his fingers. “I’ve wanted you here, pictured you here... just like this.”
“I’m here, Michael. I’m real.” She pressed tender kisses around his jaw. “Love me.”
“Ahh, Clemmie. You tempt me so.” Careful not to put his entire weight on her, he pressed full length, feeling every soft curve and enticing hollow of her body. She was his. She’d given her promise. He exulted in the knowledge.
“Michael?”
“Hmm?” Almost drugged with the nearness of her, he looked down into her face.
“Is there any reason...” She hesitated, her smile so heart-breakingly innocent he wanted to shout his happiness for the whole world to hear. Licking her dry lips, she tried again. “Is there any reason to wait?”
His joy bubbled over. Laughing, he pulled her into a bear hug. “Treasures are always worth waiting for...but not too long.” He sat up, taking her with him. “How do you feel about getting a license tomorrow?”
“If you hadn’t suggested that, I was going to mention it myself.”
Delight poured through him, shining on his heart and illuminating the dark corners of his soul. Clemmie. She was his Clemmie. She was his hearth, his home, his love. He’d wait, because he’d finally found a woman worth waiting for.
o0o
From: Clemmie
To: Molly, Joanna, Janet, Belinda, Bea, Catherine
Re: Married!
Michael and I are married! My brothers and my boarders gave me a one-way ticket to L.A., and I flew out here on a hope and a prayer. Thank goodness, Michael loves me, too, and we had a quick civil ceremony here in town followed by a fabulous honeymoon in his home. He dismissed all the servants, and we had his wonderful house to ourselves! As Joanna would say, OH MY!!!
But both of us want another ceremony at home so my family and our friends can help us celebrate! Oh, do say you’ll come! Joanna, I know you can’t fly all the way from Madrid, and Cat, you might not be able to get make it because of school, and oh, Bea, I know you and Russ are a long way off in Florida, but we’re planning a weekend wedding. Michael said if anybody needs a ticket, just let him know. And do tell me if you can come. I’ve picked out bridesmaids dresses for all of you on Rodeo Drive, no less! They’ll be waiting in Peppertown!
Oh, I never knew it was possible to be this happy!!!
Clemmie
From: Bea
To: Clemmie, Joanna, Janet, Molly, Belinda, Catherine
Re: Your wedding
Of course, we’ll be there!!! Are you kidding me? Russ and I were just talking about driving that way anyhow to visit Mother and Jedidiah over in Florence!
Bea
From: Janet
To: Clemmie, Joanna, Molly, Belinda, Catherine, Bea
Re: Bridesmaid
Wild horses couldn’t keep me away. Not even the hospital! I’m so happy everything worked out for you, Clemmie! You deserve every happiness! I can’t wait to meet the man who got every one of our panties in a wad!
Janet
From: Belinda
To: Clemmie, Joanna, Molly, Bea, Catherine, Janet
Re: Fabulous!
Doing the happy dance here!!! Oh, I do hope you’ll be as happy as I am. If I were any happier I’d levitate straight to the moon! I’ll be there with bells on!
Belinda
From: Joanna
To: Clemmie, Bea, Molly, Janet, Catherine, Belinda
Re: Jealous
OH, I’M JEALOUS! I wish I could be there, but I can’t take that much time from school, especially since this is my last year! Yay!!! I’ll be so happy when I can leave Madrid and the nuns and that RAVING PIG behind, I’ll jump OVER THE MOON! I’m going to drink champagne from my gold shoes and then sit on the rooftop and send happy thought flying your way, Clemmie! Go, you!!! And send details. I want to hear every little thing, who said what and what the dresses look like and what the honeymoon was like. TELL ALL!!! At the rate I’m going, the nearest I’m ever going to get to a wedding is hearing second hand information! Still, I’m glad to be rid of that PIG WITH THE BLOATED EGO!
Joanna
From: Molly
To: Clemmie, Bea, Janet, Catherine, Belinda, Joanna
Re: Weekend
How fabulous!!! Sam and I will be there, and I can’t wait to meet your Mr. Right!
Molly
From: Catherine
To: Clemmie, Bea, Janet, Molly, Belinda, Joanna
Re: Flying Trip
I’m going to fly out Friday night and back Sunday morning, but I’ll be there, sweetie!!! Did you get cute shoes, too? If not, I’ll find some in New Orleans and bring them? I was thinking silver, with rhinestone buckles.
OMG, this is so exciting! Five of us have landed Mr. Perfect!!! Joanna, take heart. The two of us are bound to get lucky soon!!!
Joanna
From: Clemmie
To: Catherine, Bea, Molly, Joanna, Belinda, Janet
Re: Shoes
Bring the silver shoes, Cat. Joanna, I won’t tell all, but I will say that when Michael discovered Virginia, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven!
Clemmie
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They flew back to Peppertown eight days after their marriage in L.A. In that length of time, Michael had spent enough time on the phone to plan a wedding extravaganza in Peppertown, and he had finally called all his friends and invited them to his wedding—his second wedding.
“I figured I’d waited so long and been so scared of this, I might as well do it twice,” he’d told Rick Love.
Now they were all assembled in Clemmie’s yard—Rick Love, Jay Wilkins, Lonnie Bobo, Miss Josephine, Harvey, Glen and the other schoolteachers, David and Daniel—waiting for the bride and groom and the Dixie Virgins in their pink satin dresses and silver shoes. A full orchestra was playing, the gazebo was draped with white roses and orchids, a white carpet was laid upon the browning grass, and the weather was cooperating beautifully. The temperature was a mild sixty-one, and the early December sun was outdoing itself with brilliance.
Spirits were high. And this crowd, loving a good show the way they did, was whispering and murmuring its pleasure. Suddenly a hush came over them.
An array of five beautiful young women marched toward the altar smiling – Cat, Janet, Molly, Belinda and Bea, glowing in their bridesmaids dresses and their love for the bride. Behind them came a white stallion bearing two riders. The saddle and bridle were the finest leather, trimmed with real gold. Riding double were Michael and Clemmie. He wore the loose white shirt, black pants and black boots of the buccaneer, and she was dressed in a fairy-tale wedding gown of white satin and tulle, trimmed with white sequined roses. They looked as if they had stepped straight from a lavish Cinderella castle.
And they almost had. The week in Michael’s plush mansion in Hollywood Hills had made Clemmie feel almost like Cinderella. Almost, but not quite. Her head might have been in the clouds for a while, but she had her feet firmly planted on the ground. She was married to a real man, a prince, to be sure, but a man of flesh and blood and passion. And she planned to be married to him for the rest of her life.
She smiled as he helped her from the horse, and there beside her gazebo they pledged their vows a second time. It was a wedding to remember, with music that rivaled heaven’s choirs, color photographs taken from every angle, a videotape made that would be shown over and over, well wishes of family and friends, and flowers to press in a scrapbook.
And when it was over, when the last crumb of cake had been eaten and the last glass of champagne drunk, all the guests slipped quietly away, leaving the Victorian house to the almost newlyweds.
Michael carried Clemmie over yet another threshold and up another set of stairs. The brass bed waited for them, the white sheets turned rosy by the glow of sunset that washed through the windows.
“Remember what you once told me about this brass bed, Clemmie?”
“Yes. From the first day you arrived in Peppertown, I imagined us there together.”
“I love it when you blush.” He cupped her cheek, pulling her close with gentle pressure. “Tell me, love, what did you imagine?”
She bent forward and whispered in his ear. He lifted one wicked eyebrow in mock surprise.
“No,” he said, chuckling. “You don’t mean it.” Her face getting pinker and pinker, she continued to whisper. “Not that, too. Why, Mrs. Forrest, I’m positively delighted with you.”
He unbuttoned her satin gown, slid it down and kissed her slim, firm shoulders. She shivered with pleasure.
“If we live to be a hundred, Michael, I will never get enough of you.”
“Nor I of you.”
The bedsprings squeaked as he lowered her to the sun- painted covers. She circled her arms around his neck and pulled him close. He slipped inside her, and it was as if they had always belonged together. They lay still a moment, savoring each other, building the anticipation.
“Do you know what Miss Josephine said the first day you came here?”
“Tell me, my sweet.’’
“She said you were a philandering man and we would all be pregnant as a house if you stayed.”
He chuckled. “The first part is over and done with. But I think I can do something about the second part.”
Clemmie smiled a secret smile, and then she forgot everything except the joys of being Mrs. Michael Forrest.
-The End-
While Carrie Bradshaw was looking for Sex in the City, the Dixie Virgins were looking for love, marriage and a baby carriage! Sassy, funny and charming, The Dixie Virgin Chronicles is a seven-book series that follows the feisty, independent women who met at a summer camp for girls, and live by the rule Never let the boys from Camp Geronimo get close enough to see your Virginia. Get all seven books!
The Dixie Virgin Chronicles: Belinda (Book One)
The Dixie Virgin Chronicles: Janet (Book Two)
The Dixie Virgin Chronicles: Molly (Book Three)
The Dixie Virgin Chronicles: Bea (Book Four)
The Dixie Virgin Chronicles: Clemmie (Book Five)
The Dixie Virgin Chronicles: Joanna (Book Six)
The Dixie Virgin Chronicles: Catherine (Book Seven)
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Don’t miss Joanna’s story, coming in late October!
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