Page 53 of A Man for Amanda
“It’s good,” he told her, then spread a dab on her bare shoulder so he could lick it off. “Here.” He lifted her, cradling her against his chest before he handed her the glass of champagne. “We were supposed to drink this first, but I got distracted.”
It tasted like sin on her tongue. She sipped again, then opened her mouth obediently when he fed her more pâté, this time on a conventional cracker.
“More?”
She sighed her assent. They began to feed each other tidbits from the basket between kisses. Replete, she watched him pour the last of the champagne. “We’re going to be late for the séance.”
“Nope.” He drew her back more comfortably against his chest. “Coco decided that the vibes weren’t right. Something about interference from a dark presence.”
“Sounds just like my levelheaded aunt.”
“Now she wants to wait until the last night of the new moon.” He nuzzled her neck. “We can stay in here all night.”
She was beginning to believe that with him, anything was possible. “That would make it my first all-night picnic.”
“After we’re married, we’ll make it a regular event.”
Champagne slopped over her hand and onto his leg as she jolted straight.
“Easy, Calhoun, don’t waste it.”
She struggled around to face him. “What do you mean, married?”
“You know, like man and wife, that kind of thing.”
With deliberate care, she set the glass down. Just like that, she thought, both panicked and angry. Just as she’d expected. With him it wasSaddle up, Calhoun. We’re getting hitched.“What gave you the idea that we were getting married?”
He didn’t like the fact that the line was back between her brows. “I love you, you love me. You’re the logical one, Amanda. The next step’s marriage from my point of view.”
“It may be a step from your point of view, but it’s a big leap from mine. You can’t just assume I’m going to take it.”
“Why not?”
“Because you can’t. In the first place, I’m not planning on marriage for years yet. I’ve got my career to think about.”
“What’s one got to do with the other?”
“Everything. You’ve already messed up my concentration, had me shuffling around my priorities.” Knowing it sounded foolish, she stopped to drag a hand through her hair. “Look at me,” she demanded. “Just look at me. I’m sitting on the storeroom floor, naked, and arguing with a man I’ve only known for two weeks. This isn’t me.”
With deceptive laziness, he skimmed his gaze down, then up again. “Then who the hell is it?”
“I don’t know.” Frantic, she snatched up her sweats and began to pull them on. “I don’t know who I am anymore, and it’s your fault. Nothing’s made sense since you ran into me on the sidewalk.”
“You ran into me.”
“That’s beside the point.” Shaken to the core, she yanked the sweatshirt over her head. “I’m daydreaming when I’m supposed to be working. I’m making love with you when I should be keeping appointments. I’m having naked picnics when I should be filing papers. It’s got to stop.”
“Maybe I should’ve just hit you over the head with the bottle of champagne instead of letting you drink it.” Baffled, he scratched his head. “Why don’t you sit down, Calhoun, and we’ll talk this thing out?”
“No, I will not sit down. You’ll start on me again, and I won’t be able to think. You’re not going to make plans for the rest of my life without consulting me, without even having the courtesy to ask. I’m taking back control of my life.”
He rose then, naked and furious. “You’re mad because I want you to marry me.”
The breath hissed out between her clenched teeth. “You’re just stupid.” She grabbed the closest thing handy and ended up hurling her glasses at him. “Too stupid for words.” With this she strode to the door, fought with and cursed the lock until she managed to open it. “You can take your incredibly romantic proposal and stuff it.”
The hot and hazy afternoon was perfect for pleasure. Christian surprised me with a little basket of wine and cold ham. Together we sat in the wild grass beyond the rock and watched the boats glide by below. The light was so golden, like something poured out of a gilded pitcher. But it is always so when I’m with him. In this lovely fantasy of afternoons, there is nothing but sunlight and warm, fragrant air.
We talked of everything and nothing as he sketched me. He has already done two paintings of me since the summer began. Without risking modesty I can say he made me look beautiful. What woman is not when she is in love? And it was his eyes that studied me, his hands that drew my face, my hair. His feelings that guided his brush.
