McNeil's Match Page 6

  “I’ve never tasted it, but I have an open mind.”

  “Good. I hope you’ll give us as much of a chance as you’re willing to give that pie.”

  Her eyelids lowered slowly and she settled more deeply into the swing’s cushion, and stretched in a catlike fashion. “Don’t think for a minute, honey, that a pie rates with you.”

  He gazed down at her, so sexy and so tempting. “You be grateful that I’m a disciplined man.”

  She slanted him a quick glance and closed her eyes again. “Discipline has its virtues and its moments of decadence.”

  He hunkered in front of her and shocked himself by bracing his hands on her uncovered knees. “You’ve got a rapid-fire tongue, and I suspect it can be sharp. Someday, you’ll explain to me how to be disciplined is to be immoral, but not right now, because I have to cook us some hamburgers.”

  “I’d do that if you didn’t insist that I rest.”

  “Don’t get off the subject, and don’t tell me criminals are disciplined. That’s not what we’re talking about.”

  “You’re introducing complications,” she said.

  He looked up at her, relaxed, comfortable and beautiful, and shook his head. If he’d had his thinking cap on, he would have urged Thelma MacLendon to stay. He and Lynne should spend time around other people so he could think of something other than making love to her.

  “After we eat, would you like me to drive us to Hemisphere Park, site of the 1968 World’s Fair? We can sit in the park and talk. I go there a lot, because it’s so peaceful. We could stay an hour or so and then come back and get dinner.”

  Her face wrinkled into a frown. “Are you bored? Tell me.”

  He laughed, although he wasn’t amused. “Quite the opposite. You’re so interesting that I could use a distraction.”

  She covered his hands with hers. “We can stay here, Sloan. I’ll keep it between the lines.”

  He looked into her eyes for evidence of mischief or even insincerity and found none. “All right. Be back in a few minutes.”

  Later, after eating his hamburger as fast as good sense would allow, he could finally bite into the pecan pie. “That woman wasn’t lying. I’ve eaten a lot of pecan pie in my life, and this is supreme. I’m going to make friends with that lady.”

  “You’re not bad yourself. This is one delicious hamburger. Mind telling me what’s in it?”

  Remembering how she’d teased him earlier, he said, “No, I don’t mind.”

  “Then—” She began to laugh, a big belly laugh. He got caught up in it and laughed with her until, unable to do otherwise, he wiped his mouth, picked her up, settled her in his lap and pressed his lips to hers in a sweet and gentle kiss. “Hold it, Sloan. I said I’d keep it between the lines, and I’m good as my word, but, honey, I need your help.”

  “Yeah,” he said, putting her down. “I planned us a nice lobster dinner, but I suggest you keep the lobsters in your freezer, and we eat out. There’s a nice little Mom and Pop restaurant not far that serves good home-cooked food. I’m enjoying cooking for us, but this togetherness is getting to me.”

  As if affronted, she sat forward and looked hard at him. “What exactly do you mean?”

  Might as well call a spade a spade and keep the wires from getting tangled later on. “Lynne, I am a man, and I am strongly attracted to you, emotionally as well as physically. A man wants to express what he feels for a woman by making love with her, and it’s getting more and more difficult for me to sit here with you and keep my hands off you. And this setting doesn’t help.”

  He moved back to the chaise and settled himself on it. “On one hand, this is one of the most relaxing days I’ve had in years. Maybe the most relaxing. I don’t think I’ve ever before taken the time to hear the birds twittering among themselves. Just listen to them. And to the wind, whispering so softly that I can barely hear it. Every day, I pass flowers along the roads and highways, in the markets and flower shops, and I don’t even look at them. But sitting out here with you, I sense an almost spiritual kinship with these bluebonnets and yellow roses. I feel a part of everything around me, the trees, the flowers, the wind...and you, Lynne.

  “On the other hand, it’s frustrating being so close to you and...” What the hell, he wasn’t going to dump that on her. Being with her showed him how barren his life had been, what he’d missed in companionship with a woman he cared for.

  “I’ve learned a lot about you these past two days, Sloan, and a lot more, perhaps, about myself. Stop worrying about what I think of you, and whether I trust you.” She threw up her hands. “Oh, yes, I’m not full of experience where men are concerned, but I know that’s been worrying you. I would not fall asleep in this house alone with you, as I did yesterday, if I didn’t trust you.”

  “Thanks for that, Lynne. What are you getting at?”

  “I love lobster.”

  The mirth that began somewhere in the pit of him slowly expelled itself in a big belly laugh. What a precious woman! “All right. All right. I get the message.” She went inside, and minutes later, he heard the music of Count Basie storming out of Kansas City, Missouri, in the 1937 rendition of “One O’clock Jump.”

  “Where did you get that recording?” he asked when she returned to the deck.

  “I’ve had it since...gee, I don’t know when. I have a large collection of jazz recordings, and I figured something not very sentimental would straighten things out here.”

  “Just don’t play ‘Every Day I Have the Blues.’ The way Joe Williams sings that song is enough to send a man into shock.”

  “Okay, I won’t play it. Let’s walk along Corpus Christi Lane for a while before sunset. You know, someday I want to have a house near a large body of water, large enough so that I can see the daybreak and the sunset. I miss the sunset here.”

  “You can see it from my place, and I hope one day you will. I’d like a walk. Let’s go.” He wanted to observe her walking, to know whether she would be able to return to her routine Monday morning.

  As they walked, the entire environment along Corpus Christi Lane struck him as being idyllic, though he had not noticed it on his earlier visits. Willow trees interspersed with flowering crepe myrtles, the eternal bluebonnets and rose trees decorated the properties that they passed.

  “What are those flowers?” he asked of the white pointed blooms that flanked an imposing redbrick home.

  “Calla lilies. They’re my favorites, and if I ever marry again, I am going to carry a bunch of those. I’m also going to wear a white bridal gown and veil, though that’s considered appropriate only for a first marriage. Willard thought formal weddings were an endorsement of fashion and therefore sinful, but I later learned that he was concerned about the expense. Anyway, as far as I’m concerned, I never had a real marriage.”

  “Hmm. How much older is he than you?”

  She looked up at him. “How’d you guess? Twelve years. I was twenty-three, and he was thirty-five. That didn’t seem like much of a difference when we were dating, but it was, and if you add that to his being a minister, the basis for conflict is obvious.”

  “Who lives over there?” he asked, pointing to a redbrick colonial that sat far back from the street and had a beautiful rose garden in front of it.

  “Thelma MacLendon. All by herself.”

  “She said we should come see her. Let’s see if she meant it. I want to thank her for that great pie.”

  A grin spread over her face and when she looked at him, her right eye closed slowly in a wink. “Okay. I see you want to make certain that you get some more of that pie. My guess is that she likes to cook and doesn’t have anybody to cook for other than herself. Grin your best grin, and maybe she’ll adopt you.”

  He stopped walking and turned her to face him. “You are a wicked woman.” She wrinkled her nose and appeared wi
stful. “But I absolutely adore you.”

  “You’re sweet, too,” she said, grasped his hand and turned toward Thelma MacLendon’s house.

  “Who is it?” a voice asked from behind the door.

  “Lynne Thurston and Sloan McNeil. We came to—”

  The door was flung open, and Thelma rushed out. “Come on in. Come on in. I didn’t expect you to come so soon, but I was hoping you would.” She looked up at Sloan. “And you brought this nice young man with you. Don’t get many visitors anymore. Y’all come right on in.”

  She ushered them into the large and airy living room, its windows adorned with white lace curtains and vertical white venetian blinds, the parquet floors warmed with scattered oriental carpets and the walls brightened with original paintings of Texas scenes and beautiful landscapes. The breeze brought to them the scent of roses, sweet and sensuous. Delicate like the woman beside him. What a time to have his hormones activated!

  “Make yourselves comfortable. I just made some iced tea,” she said, and left the room.

  Lynne looked at him, and he thought she seemed a little embarrassed. “I should have visited her earlier. She asked me to come see her, but I thought she was only saying what was expected of her. I think she’s lonely.”

  “I was thinking the same. We’ll see.”

  “Did you like the pie? There’s plenty more.” She placed a tray containing a crystal pitcher and three Waterford iced tea glasses, three porcelain plates on which she’d put slices of pie, three silver forks and three white linen napkins. “Don’t get much chance to use my nice things. When my husband was living, we entertained a lot. But this is a world for couples, and after he died, I didn’t get invitations to people’s homes, and I had to stop inviting them here. It’s a pity, ’cause I love having people around me.”

  He took a slice of pie, savored it and the scent of fresh caramel, and knew that his face gave her the answer she wanted, but he told her nonetheless. “Mrs. MacLendon, I’m a connoisseur of pecan pie, and yours is the best I’ve ever tasted. I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed that pie.”

  “My name’s Thelma. I’m glad. I love to make ’em. Anytime you drop by, I’ll have one for you.”

  “Be careful,” he said. “I spoil easily.”

  “Don’t worry. I got sense enough not to get on Lynne’s left side. Still...” For a moment, she seemed pensive. “My son would have been a little older than you, Sloan, but he went to Afghanistan and didn’t make it back. He was my only child.”

  He reached for the thin, blue-veined white hand that trembled unsteadily and held it. “I’m so sorry. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

  She locked him in her gaze for long seconds. “You’re a strong man, but you’re gentle. Lynne is lucky to have you in her life.”

  “Thanks. I think I’m lucky that I found her.”

  “And I hope you continue to feel that way after she goes back to playing tennis. I used to watch her and marvel at the way she played—she was the swiftest, the best server, and I used to jump out of my seat when those line drives of hers would hit the very corner every time.” She looked at Lynne. “Do you think you’ll get back to where you were? Frankly, I thought you were crazy to quit, but...” She threw up her hands. “I figured I didn’t know everything.”

  “I’m trying, Thelma. My serve isn’t trustworthy yet, and I won’t know how my ground strokes are until I begin working with my coach. I had to get into shape first.”

  Thelma MacLendon looked directly at him. “Do you think you can handle being the man in a celebrity’s life?”

  “Why not? I’m sure it would entail surprises and some disappointments, but if a woman loved me and let me know it, and if she was always straight with me, her being famous wouldn’t bother me at all. I’d be proud of her.”

  “I hope so. It took my husband a while to accept that, as a champion swimmer, I traveled a lot, but after he decided to accompany me whenever he could, our marriage and my swimming became a joint project. You’re welcome to swim in my pool anytime you want to, Lynne.”

  “Thanks. If I decide to buy that house, I’ll put one in behind my tennis courts. Maybe you could give me some advice about that.”

  “Sure thing.” They talked for a long time, with Thelma leading the conversation. A glance at his watch told him that they had spent over two hours as uninvited guests in the woman’s home.

  He stood. “We didn’t plan to stay more than a few minutes, Thelma. Thanks for your kindness.”

  Lynne walked over to the woman and took her hand. “Yes,” she said. “I have enjoyed this time with you, Thelma, and I’ll expect a visit anytime you get the notion.”

  “I want us to be neighborly,” Thelma said, “and I like to know I have a friend nearby. Don’t let that trainer push you around now. I watched him. He’s mean.”

  “Don’t worry about him,” Sloan said. “There are other good trainers, and I aim to remind him of that fact.”

  “Good for you,” Thelma said as they started for the door. “Wait a minute.” She returned with what he knew would be the remainder of the pie and handed it to him. “Now you remember where you got this. It takes me less than an hour to make it.”

  He couldn’t help smiling, for she seemed so eager, and no one had ever needed to beg him to eat pecan pie. “What’s your phone number?” he asked her. She hurried off and returned with the number written on a piece of paper along with her name and address. “Thanks. I’ll see you.”

  “Don’t make it too long.”

  At the end of the long walkway leading from her house, he looked back and, as he expected, she was standing in the door and raised her hand to wave them goodbye. He would think about her for a long time.

  * * *

  “I’m glad we went to see her, because I think she’s lonely,” Lynne said. “Loneliness is a terrible thing.”

  “You sound as if you’ve had some experience with it. When were you lonely, if you don’t mind telling me?”

  “While I was married. I didn’t have any friends, no one with whom to communicate except my brother, and I had to be careful about what I said to him because he is very protective. I’m not a milquetoast, Sloan, but I took those vows seriously, and I did everything I could to keep the marriage together. Have you ever been lonely?”

  “Oh, yes. I know all about it. As I told you, I’ve taken a few lumps.”

  “I’m sorry, but I suspect you’re stronger because of it. Look. Fireflies. I love them.”

  He let his gaze sweep over her. “I have yet to hear you say that you disliked anything or anyone.”

  “That’s because you haven’t mentioned snakes or mosquitoes. I guarantee you I despise both.”

  He turned on the foyer lights as they entered the house. “Considering your affection for mosquitoes, I think we’d better stay in here. Tomorrow, I’ll bring you some outdoor candles that will keep them away from the deck.”

  When she didn’t object to his coming to see her the following afternoon, he seemed to relax, to accept her acquiescence as evidence that she intended to abide by their agreement. He needn’t have worried; she hadn’t spent so happy a day since she won her first grand slam tournament ten years earlier.

  “Dinner will be ready as soon as these little potatoes steam,” he said, tucking a towel into his belt.

  “What about the lobster?”

  He tweaked her nose. “Ten minutes at best. Now sit down somewhere. You’re supposed to be resting.”

  “But I’m not a bit tired.”

  “I don’t want you to get tired, either.”

  She set the table while he cooked their dinner, rejecting thoughts of domesticity as she did so. Suddenly, wanting him to see her at her best, she walked out to the garden, quickly snipped some bluebonnets and got back inside before he missed her. She put the
flowers into a small vase, placed them in the center of the table, got two crystal candleholders and looked for some candles. She let out a deep breath when she found some twelve-inch white candles. After finishing setting the table, she went into the living room and sat down as if she’d been there the entire time.

  “Dinner’s read... When did you... You were supposed to be resting.”

  She met him at the door between the dining and living rooms. “A lobster dinner deserves flowers and candles, and so do you. Don’t worry. I’m rested.”

  He put the food on the table, and after sitting down, held her hand while he said the grace. She waited for him to begin eating, since he was the cook, but he merely sat there looking at her.

  “I don’t care what you say or how you say it, one day, you and I will embrace this world together. I’ve never before had the feeling that I was in my proper place.” He leaned forward. “Lynne, I feel as if I could touch the moon if you were with me. While I was putting the food into serving plates, I wished I had flowers and candles for the table, but didn’t mention that to you because I didn’t want you to bestir yourself. The table is beautiful. I’m sorry you can’t have wine.”

  She lowered her head and glanced up at him. “I bet I could have a wine and soda spritzer. What do you think?”

  He jumped up from the table. “I bet you could, too.”

  After dipping a chunk of lobster into the butter and lemon sauce, she tasted it first, closed her eyes and shook her head slowly. “Hmm. I’ve died and gone to heaven. Sloan, this is fantastic. No wonder you’re single. Any woman who cooks for you commits romantic suicide, because you’re so much better at it.”

  “Thanks for the compliment, but I do not plan to let you use that as an excuse not to invite me to breakfast, lunch and dinner many times.”

  She tasted the potato fluff and threw up her hands. “This settles it. Will you marry me?”

  He stopped eating, and she knew at once that she’d made a big mistake. “I will, and I want an engagement ring, and I am not joking.”