She straightened, suddenly aware of the smudges of dust on her face and hands, of a sheen of perspiration on her brow, tangled locks curling over her forehead. She smiled. “You’re just in time.”
“Charity, is Mattie moving away?”
“I don’t know what we’ll do, so I’m trying to sort through things and get rid of what she doesn’t want or need. She can’t stay alone, but we haven’t reached a decision about the future.” She glanced around. “I don’t know what to do with all this stuff. There are some heavy things that should go to the Salvation Army and I’ve been wondering how I would get them down out of the attic.”
“At your service, darlin’.” He scrambled up with ease and crouched slightly to avoid hitting his head on the sloping roof. Then, without hesitation, he reached for her.
“Oregon, it’s too hot up here …”
“It sure is,” he murmured as he leaned down to kiss her. His kiss was more overwhelming than the last had been, and it turned the attic into an inferno. Dimly she heard Aunt Mattie calling her name.
Oregon released her, and she answered. “Yes?”
“You’re wanted on the phone. It’s long distance, Charity. It’s Ziza.”
“I’m coming.” She sounded as if she had run a mile. She pointed to Uncle Hubert’s golf bag and clubs and a screen door, propped against the attic wall. “Can you bring those down, please?”
“Sure thing.”
She hurried down the steps and discovered Aunt Mattie had pulled the phone around the corner from the kitchen counter to the garage. It rested on the washing machine. When Charity answered, Ziza’s voice came over the crackling wire.
“Charity, sweetie, this is Ziza.” Charity could picture Ziza’s wild tangle of black curls, her big blue eyes, and the slender figure that made people think she was ten years younger than her age. “Sweetie, I’m married to the most adorable man! This is finally it, Charity, forever! Bernard. I just can’t wait for you to meet him.” She didn’t pause for a remark from Charity, but continued breathlessly, with laughter punctuating her sentences. “Sweetie, you’re not married yet, are you?”
“No, Ziza.”
“Are you in love?”
“No …”
“Well, sweetie, it’s high time we changed that! You’re too cute and too old to live without a man. And I have just the one for you. Mr. Perfect.”
“Ziza, I don’t need to meet any men.” She saw a long black boot emerge from the attic and rest on the top step. She picked up the phone to step inside the kitchen, but the cord got twisted and she couldn’t untangle it without dropping the phone.
“Don’t be ridiculous! You need a man in your life more than anything else, and I’d be remiss in my duty if I didn’t see to it that you got one.”
Charity felt as if she were standing in quicksand. Sinking in quicksand. Mired to her waist in oozing trouble. Both boots came down a step and long, jeaned legs began to appear. She knew Oregon could hear every word she said.
“Ziza, please, I’m living the way I want to.”
“I can’t hear you. We have a damn poor connection. You’ll love him. It’s Bernard’s brother, Rolf. He’s a dreamboat. Who’s your favorite actor?”
“I don’t have one. Ziza, don’t bring him to meet me. I can’t go out with him.”
“Why not? There is someone else!”
Charity was aware of Oregon standing behind her. “No, there isn’t!”
“Then you’ll love Rolf and you need to meet him.”
“Ziza, I don’t have time to date. I have to take care of Mattie.” She glanced around. Oregon was investigating Uncle Hubert’s golf clubs, studying them intently.
“That’s all the more reason to get you out. Rolf looks just like … hold your breath … Christopher Reeve!”
Charity’s patience snapped. “If he looks so damned much like Christopher Reeve, why does he need you to introduce him to a woman?”
The minute she said it, she wanted to clamp her hand over her mouth. Oregon’s head raised, and he stopped all pretense of studying anything except her. He grinned. She felt her cheeks burning beneath his gaze.
“I had to do some arm twisting,” Ziza answered, unperturbed. “You’ll faint when you see him. If I weren’t so in love with Bernard … and a teensy bit older than Rolf … well, you wouldn’t lay eyes on him!” Ziza laughed.
“Don’t invite him to meet me, Ziza. When will you and Bernard get here?”
“We’re in Houston now, and we’ll get in about noon Saturday. Well stay at a motel, sweetie, but Rolf will stay with you, and don’t protest. Mattie has already said he can stay. And you have a date Saturday night.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Why not? Sweetie, are you in love? I think you’re in love! Don’t deny it, I can tell. Charity, who is he?”
A silence ensued while Charity mulled over the best answer to give her aunt. “I’m not alone, Ziza.”
“Mattie’s there?”
“Well, no. A neighbor is.”
“Charity, you sound different. It won’t hurt you to tell me who the lucky man is. Mattie and her neighbor will be delighted.”
“I can’t talk about it now.”
Oregon had folded his arms across his chest and planted his feet apart while he gazed at her thoughtfully.
Ziza laughed uproariously. “Prim and proper Charity. Come on, I can imagine your blush and the little ladies’ giggles. Tell me who the man is or I’ll have to ask Mattie.”
“You’re right, Ziza, I’m prim. Let’s discuss it later. Just visit Rolf in Oklahoma City on your way home and forget about introducing us.” She was on fire. Damn Oregon anyway!
“Charity,” come on. I won’t be satisfied until you tell me who he is.”
Now she had put herself between a slab of marble and a block of concrete. Either way She was up against solid trouble. She didn’t want to meet Rolf, to have him for a houseguest, yet she didn’t dare tell Ziza that she was in love with Oregon. She raised her chin and faced Oregon defiantly. “Ziza, there isn’t anyone I’m in love with, but I don’t want a blind date with Rolf!”
And she knew that the moment she’d declared she wasn’t in love, she had flung a challenge at Oregon. He started toward her with a gleam in his eye that told her exactly what he intended. Her heart thudded against her rib cage and her pulse went into high gear.
And Ziza’s happy voice came over the wire loudly enough for Oregon to hear. “Oh, Charity, I wonder! I can imagine your blush. Are the ladies giggling?”
Oregon pushed the phone away from her mouth, bent down, and kissed her. His arms went around her waist and he pulled her to him, kissing her as passionately and as hard as possible.
She fought, but there was no way to combat arms like steel bands, a chest like granite, and a kiss like a roaring fire.
She did the only thing she could think to do under the circumstances. She hung up on Ziza. And Oregon kept right on kissing her until she felt she would faint. She trembled, she ached, she struggled, and she couldn’t resist—she kissed him in return. Fervently. She forgot Ziza, Rolf, her anger, everything in the world except Oregon Brown. Adorable, sexy, tongue-tied Oregon Oliver Brown.
The phone rang. And rang and rang. Finally she realized it and reached behind her, struggling again to pull free of Oregon’s embrace.
He relented, raising his head. She brought the phone to her ear while she stared into his burning eyes.
“Hello? Charity? What happened?”
Charity tried to wriggle free. Oregon grinned and leaned down to nibble her earlobe. “We … got cut off. Oh, don’t!”
“Don’t what? What’s the matter with you? You sound breathless.”
“It’s a … poor connection.” She couldn’t think. She felt tingles coursing through her. Oregon’s tongue touched her ear as she struggled to get away from him.
“Now, Charity, it’s all set. You have a dinner date Saturday night with Rolf. Is there a good restaurant in Enid?”
“Red Lobster,” Oregon said.
“Charity, is there a man with you?”
“A man? Whatever makes you think that?”
“I can’t hear you.”
“I said. Red Lobster is a good place to eat.” She covered the mouthpiece of the phone and whispered frantically, “Get away! Stop that, Oregon!”
“Go out to dinner with me Saturday night.” His chin thrust forward slightly, and his green eyes glinted with determination.
“I can’t, Oregon,” she whispered. She couldn’t let Ziza get hold of Oregon. There wouldn’t be a minute’s peace, and Ziza would ruin their relationship. What relationship? an inner voice scoffed.
“I can’t, Oregon,” she whispered.
“Charity, sweetie, is someone with you?”
“Go out with me.”
“No.” She said it to both of them, speaking into the phone while she looked Oregon in the eye.
He folded his arms across his chest and rocked on his heels.
“You sound different, sweetheart.”
“It’s the connection.”
Suddenly Oregon’s fingers closed over the phone, and he took it from her so swiftly, she couldn’t stop him. While his eyes warned her to leave him alone, his deep voice said, “Hi, Ziza, this is Oregon.”
Charity felt as if the quicksand had closed over her head. There went Rolf, peace of mind, Oregon, the weekend, her life. When Ziza got her teeth into a man, she didn’t let go.
“I’m a neighbor of Mattie’s and I have a date with Charity Saturday night.”
Charity couldn’t hear Ziza’s reply, but she saw Oregon grin. An eyelid dropped over one eye in a quick wink that didn’t do anything to soothe her anger.
“That’s right, Ziza. Why don’t you save old Rolf the trip if you can see him in Oklahoma City?” Another pause, a wider grin appeared, with dimples, and then he said, “Sure thing. See you Saturday. I’ll tell Charity and give her a kiss for you.” He replaced the receiver and smiled smugly at Charity.
“You just did the lowest, sneakiest—”
That one damned eyebrow climbed into an arch, and his eyes were filled with devilish glitter as he interrupted her. “I’m not about to let you go out with a guy named Rolf who looks like Christopher Reeve. You didn’t want to go anyway. Come here. I’m supposed to give you a kiss for Ziza.”
She flung her hands up to forestall him. “I didn’t want to tell Ziza about you either!”
“So I noticed. Not in love, huh?”
“Now, Oregon, you don’t know my aunt, but you will by Saturday night. Oh, brother, you will!” Charity was tempted to add that Ziza was probably planning a wedding right now. Heat burned up from her toes as Oregon pulled her to him and kissed her again. Kissed her as thoroughly and as fantastically as before. When he released her, she stared at him for long, long seconds until she remembered what she had been doing. “I’ve got work to do,” she said.
“I came along just in time to save you from disaster and I’m not worried about your Aunt Ziza. And you’re not in love, huh?”
“I had to tell her that.” She was blushing furiously and felt aggravated by his high-handed tactics.
He brushed her nose with his finger and drawled, “Well, we’ll see about that, darlin’. And we have a dinner date Saturday night.”
“I have to clean the attic, and I can get along without your help, Oregon.”
He grinned. “Now, don’t get in a huff with me. I didn’t come over here for that.”
“I’m not in a huff. I’m going back to work, and I don’t need any help.”
His grin widened. “That isn’t what you said a few minutes ago.”
“I’m saying it now.” She climbed the steps to the attic, aware that he was probably watching every movement. She thrust her head through the opening and saw the screen door lying on the floor, blocking her way. She couldn’t climb up unless she stepped on the screen or lifted it down. And damned if she would ask for his help. She pulled the door toward her and lifted one end. The door was heavy and awkward to handle.
She heard a deep chuckle; then an arm closed around her waist. Oregon was standing on the steps as he reached up and lifted her off. For an instant, as he swung her around, she thought they’d fall. Then he settled back against the steps, holding her against his big, long body. She rested her hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes, and knew she had lost the battle completely.
“My, are you a dirty fighter,” she murmured.
“We weren’t fighting. Not for one second.” He leaned forward and kissed her. His arm held her tightly against him while his other hand cupped the back of her head.
He spread his legs slightly, and her toes rested on a step. It was higher than the one on which Oregon stood, and put her face on the same level as his. And fitted her body to his seductively. Held so tightly against him, she felt his arousal, his growing need for her. His tongue met hers in a delicious tangle that sent her heart flying for an eternity before she reluctantly pushed away. They looked into each other’s eyes, and she wondered what he was thinking. She thought he was marvelous. And she refused to think about what would happen when Ziza discovered him. “I’d better go,” she whispered.
“For now,” he answered, and released her, helping her down before turning and easily lifting down the screen door.
“When will Ziza arrive?” he asked.
“Saturday.” The mere thought made her nervous. “Oregon, we’ve gotten rid of Rolf. Let’s postpone our date until Ziza and Bernard are gone.”
He grinned at her, and her heart sank. He was going to be as devilish as Old Nick himself. “She’s part of your family, darlin’. I might as well meet her now.”
Meet her now? What did Oregon mean by that? “Oregon … Never mind. Before you go, will you carry that door to the front? I need to take down the storm door and put up the screen.”
“I’ll do it.”
He left, whistling a jolly tune, and she sat down on the bottom step. She felt as if she were lost in a fog. She couldn’t handle Oregon at all. He had caused mountains of trouble in her life. And Ziza would come into their lives like Hurricane Hilda. And what would happen tonight with Oregon? What did she want to happen? One thing would occur—Oregon would be forced to admit he was Rory Runyon. Tonight he would have to explain his reasons for going to the station.
Five hours later, seated in Oregon’s living room. Charity wondered what had happened to her plans. Nothing had gone the way she’d expected. She had dressed in a pale blue cotton sundress and sandals and been thrilled by Oregon’s reaction when he opened the door. His green eyes had devoured her, drifting slowly down to her toes, up again over her hips and breasts, and down. She realized it was the first time he had seen her in a dress. Then he had helped Aunt Mattie inside and they had settled in the living room for a cocktail.
Dinner was served in the dining room by a maid, who left shortly after the dishes were done. Charity then expected Aunt Mattie to go home to bed and Oregon to go to work. Neither happened.
Aunt Mattie had napped all afternoon after the phone call from Ziza and was ready to enjoy the evening out. Oregon seemed in no hurry to go anywhere. Charity had a suspicion Oregon also had expected Aunt Mattie to go home early.
They chatted about first one thing, then another, while Oregon, looking too appealing for words, in navy slacks and a white shirt, lounged in a large, comfortable armchair. Aunt Mattie told them about her early childhood in Alva, Oklahoma, then about moving to Enid in the early days after statehood.
Charity couldn’t believe that Aunt Mattie was so alert. It was the first night since her arrival that her aunt had stayed up past eight o’clock. Charity glanced continually at the clock over the mantel, watching it grow later and later. Still Oregon made no move to go to the station.
Eleven o’clock came, unheard-of for Aunt Mattie, yet the eyes behind the trifocals were as bright as ever. By eleven-thirty Charity knew it was too late for Oregon to get to the station. She rose. “Aunt Mattie, it’ll be midnight soon …”
“Midnight! Imagine that! You sweet children have been so entertaining. I haven’t been up this late in years. Oh, dear, we’ve kept you up late, Oregon.”
He grinned. “That’s all right, Mattie. I don’t turn in early, and I can catch forty winks tomorrow.” He looked at Charity. “How’s your insomnia, Charity? Have you slept any better the past few nights?”
“I don’t have insomnia.” She blushed and hated it.
“She just stays up all hours and rises with the sun,” Mattie said.
“That so?” His green eyes started to twinkle. “The last sunrise I saw was the best I’ve ever seen.”
Charity headed for the door, hoping Oregon would stop. “Wait a minute, Mattie,” he said. “You forgot your purse.” He handed it to her.
“Oh, my. I’d leave my head if it weren’t attached. Charity is so good to remind me about things. Isn’t she sweet, Oregon?”
“She’s adorable.”
Charity felt another wave of heat rush up from her throat. As she looked up at Oregon, her heart was throbbing and it was difficult to speak. “Thank you. That’s nice.”
He smiled and gave her quick wink. “Sweet Charity. It’s almost time for the radio program you like.”
“So it is. Do you always listen to ‘Nighttime’?”
“No, but I catch it now and then.”
They each took one of Mattie’s elbows to help her down the steps to the car. Oregon closed the door after she was seated. As they started around the back of the car, Oregon’s hand closed on Charity’s arm.
“I thought we’d be alone a little while tonight,” he whispered.
“She took a nap today so she could stay awake and visit with you.” They stopped behind the back fender of the passenger side of the car, and Oregon slipped his arm around her waist, leaning down to kiss her.
It was a kiss that made her want dozens more. As she pushed away, she felt the intense longing that he stirred so easily.
“Oregon, Aunt Mattie will look for me.”
“She won’t mind if she sees me kiss you.”
“Well, I don’t want a bunch of questions.”
“I’ll be happy to answer them for you,” he said complacently. “We kiss because we’re falling in love.”
“You know, you have moments when you’re so damned arrogant, it’s revolting!”
Suddenly he yanked her to his chest and kissed her again. Kissed her soundly until she returned it with just as much abandon. And, just as abruptly as he had reached for her, he released her. As she almost fell against the car, he said, “I rest my case.”
“Damned arrogance!” she snapped, making him laugh softly.
He dropped his arm across her shoulders and walked her around the car, then reached for her door. For an instant before he opened it, he leaned close to her ear. “I wish you were stretched out on my black satin sheets. You were meant for them and for me, Charity Jane Webster!”
“Oregon, stop that!” she said, but her protest was too breathless to sound sincere. Trying to speak firmly, she said, “Thank you for the dinner.” She tried again, hoping the breathy quality would vanish. “It was marvelous.”
“You’re welcome. Saturday night there’ll be just the two of us and it’ll be better.”
“You may be jumping to the wrong conclusion.”
“We need to be alone to talk, Charity.”
“Well, I can’t now. I better go. Aunt Mattie’s waiting.”
“ ‘Night, darlin’.” There went her pulse. What a voice the man had!
“ ‘Night, Oregon.” She climbed into the car and drove around the corner to Aunt Mattie’s, her thoughts on Oregon’s dynamite kisses, his sexy, sexy voice.
As soon as they were in the house, she went to her room to turn on ‘Nighttime.’ And, right on cue, Oregon’s husky voice came over the air. She gazed at the radio and guessed the program was prerecorded. While she listened, she undressed, pulled on her nightgown and lay frowning in the darkness, missing Rory/Oregon’s chatter and phone conversations, worried about Ziza, about Oregon. What did she feel for Oregon? Was it mere lust because of loneliness? Or was it deeper? And did it matter to him? Was it casual, a one-night stand, or had he spoken the truth on the phone when he’d said he was lonely and falling in love with her?
“Dammit,” she whispered. Why didn’t Oregon discuss things with her instead of teasing and aggravating her, and making her melt? He wasn’t at a loss for words as Rory Runyon!
She turned off the radio and flounced onto her side. She lay facing a south window, and through it she saw a light blink in Oregon’s house, on, then off. What was he doing? Was he lonesome now?
She groaned and turned onto the other side, squeezing her eyes closed, determined to put Oregon Oliver Brown out of her thoughts.
She failed miserably and slept only a few hours before sunshine awakened her to a bright Friday morning.
She dressed, cooked breakfast, then left to spend an hour with Mr. Oppenheim, going over papers and talking about the sale of the newspaper.
Then she had errands to run. Go to the County Health Department for a death certificate, go to the bank, buy groceries, fill the car with gas, get Aunt Mattie’s prescription filled, and take Aunt Mattie to the doctor. She spent the entire day away from home and didn’t see Oregon at all. And missed him terribly. It was five o’clock when she and Aunt Mattie returned home for dinner and found a note from Oregon tucked into the door. He had come over during the afternoon to see if he could help with anything. Charity was very disappointed that she had missed him.
Aunt Mattie was exhausted after their hectic day, so they ate an early dinner, and then Aunt Mattie went to bed.
Charity cleaned the house, then baked a cake and made a lime-Jell-O salad for Ziza and Bernard’s visit. Finally she bathed and settled in bed to listen to ‘Nighttime.’
Oregon’s baritone came over the air, floating in the dark, bringing his presence into the bedroom. She could see green-gold eyes, imagine his big hands holding a record, see his long body relaxed in the chair, his tight jeans molding his strong legs.
She groaned softly and turned to stare at the radio. Tomorrow night they had a real, bona fide date. Would Oregon reveal his double identity then? The thought of a whole evening alone with Oregon was tantalizing.
“Hello, there, darlin’. I’m so glad you tuned in. This is Rory Craig Runyon at station KKZF bringing you ‘Nii-aighttime.’ Settle back, darlin’. For the next two hours you’ll listen to slow, easy music, old favorites for late hours.”
After a commercial, Oregon played “One Love in My Lifetime.” Well, now, she didn’t believe that was a message to her! No man like Oregon could have lived in a vacuum all these years. She checked over her list of carefully chosen requests: “Blue for You,” “Say the Words,” “Amazed and Confused,” “I’ve Never Been a Woman Before.” As she listened to the music she debated which song to request first.
The song ended, and Oregon’s voice filled the room and her senses like an intoxicating sweet wine. She closed her eyes and thought of lying in Oregon’s strong arms, of his gorgeous body so warm against hers. He played “Someday Well Be Together,” then asked for requests. Charity dialed quickly, but received a busy signal. Aggravated, she listened to Samantha’s breathless voice, the same Samantha who had called in before! She requested “The Voice of Love,” a song Charity didn’t know but wished she had found first. She flounced down on the pillows to listen to the music and wonder if Oregon was talking to Samantha while the music played. Her eyes narrowed. She licked her lips and dialed the station. A recording came on the line. “Good evening. This is station KKZF, broadcasting to you at one thousand on your dial. If you wish to talk to someone at the station, you may leave a message at the sound of a beep. We will be open at eight o’clock in the morning. Thank you for calling KKZF.”
Charity replaced the receiver without waiting to hear the beep. They must put the calls through to Oregon when he asked for requests, then switch back to the recording. She bit her lip. Was Oregon chatting with Samantha?
The song ended, and she let out her breath. “Good-bye, Samantha,” she whispered, and listened carefully to Oregon’s farewell.
“There you are, Samantha, a late-night song to soothe away the worries of the day. You call again, you hear?”
“I will, Rory,” came the whispery female voice.
Well, he hadn’t called Samantha “darlin’.” “Here’s our next, ‘Only You,’ ” he said. “It’s for you, darlin’. I’ll listen and think about you, about your tempting lips and your big, beautiful eyes. Listen to the song.”
Charity did. Was Oregon thinking about her? She wriggled in the bed and thought about him, about his strength, his tenderness and passion. The cockeyed, crooked smile and arch of brow that could be so devilish or so delightful. “Oregon!” she whispered. Tomorrow night—what would happen? At the thought her pulse jerked and rattled like an overheated motor. Then Oregon was on again. “How’s that? Nice song, wasn’t it? Darlin’, here’s something else nice. Remember Henrietta’s Pie Mix? Well, now we have Henrietta’s Batter. You talk about yummy, scruumptious, mouth-waterin’ biscuits …”
Each word dropped on Charity’s trembling nerves like sizzling oil. What a voice the man had! What a voice, and body, and kisses … “Oregon!” She wished she could conjure him up out of the darkness.
She listened raptly while he described biscuits in adjectives that made her quiver.
“Now let’s get back to some music. What would you like to hear? You call and tell me. darlin’ …”
Charity did, as rapidly as possible. She let out her breath with satisfaction as she listened to the ring, then heard Oregon’s voice continue its magic.
“Rory, it’s Charity.”
“Darlin’, I’m glad you called. Are you all right?”
“Fine,” she lied. What would he do if she answered honestly?
“What song would you like to hear, darlin’?”
She blushed with such intensity she felt she must be glowing like the red dial on the radio. “ ‘I’ve Never Been a Woman Before,’ ” she said.
“ ‘I’ve Never Been a Woman Before,’ ” he repeated, sounding thoughtful. “That’s an interesting title. Here it is, darlin’. Just for you.”
The music began, then Oregon said, “Charity?”
“Yes.”
“Darlin’, I’ve been waiting for you to call me. ‘I’ve Never Been a Woman Before’—did the guy you like to kiss cause this request?”
“He might have.”
“I’m green with jealousy.”
“You don’t need to be. Not at all.”
“I do if he’s the reason you requested this song. Are … Charity, are you in love with him?”
“No. I can’t love him, because he won’t talk to me like you do. Not at all. I don’t think he really likes me. I think he’s just amusing himself.”
“You’re wrong. Oh, Charity, have you really talked to this guy?”
“Yes, I have.” She glared into the darkness and glanced out the window at Oregon’s dark house.
“Charity, I’ll bet he’s falling in love with you. He can’t resist. He wouldn’t want to resist.”
“He doesn’t act like it!”
“He doesn’t act like it?” Shock and disbelief came through clearly.
“I guess he acts like it, but he doesn’t say anything!”
“Give him time.”
“Time! Rory, you wouldn’t need time. You say the nicest …” She hesitated. What was good for the goose … Lowering her voice, she said breathlessly, “You say the sexiest things, really sexy, that excite me so much …”
“Dammit, Charity. How can I do a show when you say things like that in a voice that makes me turn into a bonfire?”
Elation tweaked her nerves. Score another for me, Oregon Brown! “Serves you right.”
“Darlin’, I just go home to an empty house. I don’t have anyone to love. I don’t have anybody to talk to either.”
“You have a goat—” The instant Charity said it, two things happened at once.