Shannon's Daughter (21 page)

“It
would be nicer if it were just the two of us.
 
But we’ll be home early, so we’ll have some time then.”
 
She slipped her hand beneath his and gently
pressed her fingers into his thigh.
 
“Okay?”

“That
depends on what it is we’ll have time for.
 
I don’t dare ask what you have on that wicked little mind of yours.”
 
He picked up her hand and returned it to her
lap.
 
“Now do behave yourself.”
 

Her only
response was to laugh softly and link her arm in his.
 
Good thing, he couldn’t help thinking, that
at least there would be two watchful chaperones on duty during the film.
 
Once they got home, all bets were off.

“I want
to call Dad and then I’m going to put together a little snack for us.
 
Wait for me upstairs?”
 
While the O’Hallaron sisters had seemed
thoroughly caught up in the epic romance on the screen, Peg had apparently been
making plans.
 
Several times during the
film, she’d turned to him with a suggestive gleam in her eyes, and now it
burned at high beam.
 

“Where
upstairs did you have in mind?”
 
A chill
of something hovering between excitement and dread skittered down his spine.

“Just
go to your room and I’ll come get you when I’m ready.”
 
She laid a light hand on his chest and smiled
sweetly.
 
“I won’t be too long, I
promise.”
 

He did
as instructed, trudging up the stairs wondering what ‘too long’ meant in actual
minutes.
 
The New York heat had taken its
toll again.
 
He felt damp and sticky and
in need of his second fresh shirt of the day.
 
Once in his room, he opened the French windows onto the shallow grated overhang,
standing for a moment to catch the breeze as he shed his tie.
 
Perhaps he had time to at least sponge
off.
 
If they were going to be up until
all hours again, it wouldn’t hurt to freshen up a bit.
 

Quickly,
he stripped off his shirt and trousers and ran a basin of cool water.
 
Splashing his face, he let the water trickle across
his shoulders and down his chest, moaning in relief.
 
His reflection told him he could do with a
shave, but there was probably not enough time for that.
 
With luck, he’d be able to contain their
activities to consuming this snack she’d promised.
 
Luck, he reminded himself, might not take
into account that deceptively innocent smile he’d just seen on Peg’s lips.
 
Another shiver, which had little to do with
the water evaporating on his skin, sent him reaching for a towel.
 

No
sooner had he stepped into the bedroom heading for the closet, than he heard
something brush against his door.
 
“Kendall?
 
Can you let me in?
 
I have my hands full.”
 
Peg wasn’t precisely whispering, but he had
to strain to understand her.

“No!
 
I’ll come out there.
 
Just give me a minute.”
 
Tossing aside the towel and grabbing for his
clothes, he stumbled toward the door, intent on making sure she remained on the
other side.
 
“Where are you planning to
have this snack?
 
I’ll meet you there.”
 
There was no answer, only further
unidentifiable sounds from the hallway.
 
With
frantic alacrity, he hauled up his trousers and fastened the fly, shrugged on
his shirt and clutched it across his still-dripping body just as the door swung
open and Peg, tray in hand, backed in.
 
“What are you doing?”
 

Obviously
a foolish question, for which she had a breezy reply.
 
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
 
She turned and closed the door with one bare foot.
 
Peg too had changed, he noted with a
jolt.
 
She stood before him in pajamas,
her hair hanging loose over one shoulder and a loaded tray balanced on one hip
as she shot the bolt on his door.
 
“Can
you give me a hand, please?
 
I’m about to
drop this.”

He
moved like a man caught in a strong current, fully aware he was in danger of
being towed under.
 
“Peg, this is not a
good idea.
 
You shouldn’t be here.”

“Why
not?
 
We’re just going to have a little carpet
picnic and this is as good a place as any.
 
Over here by the windows, where we can get some air, I think.”
 
She placed the tray in his unconsciously outstretched
hands and crossed the room.
 
Pushing aside
a chair, she indicated the spot she’d chosen.
 
For the first time, she seemed to notice his clothes and arched her
brows.
 
“Were you dressing or
undressing?”

He set
down the tray and tried to cover himself.
 
“Dressing.
 
You should have waited in the hallway.”
 
His fingers fumbled the buttons, and Peg grinned.
 

“Don’t
do that on my account.
 
I’m sure you’ll
be cooler like that.”
 
She sank to the
floor and began to sort the fruit and sandwiches on the tray.
 
“I hope ginger ale is all right.
 
I thought we could share a bottle.”
 

“That’s
fine.
 
But I still think we should take
this someplace else.”

“I
suppose we could go to my room.”

“No!”
 

“Then
we might as well stay here.
 
Sandwich?”
 
She held
out a triangular wedge of bread and what appeared to be ham and cheese, and he
dropped to his knees, surrendering to the inevitable.

“Why
not.
 
If you’re not worried about getting caught, I
don’t suppose I should be.”

“Adamson
and Mrs. Leary have both gone to their rooms for the night.
 
I turned off my light, so if Simon is watching
from over the garage, he’ll just assume I’ve gone to bed.”

He gasped,
inhaling the first bite of his sandwich, “Simon lives over the garage!
 
What if he’d heard us the other night?”
 

Doubling
over, he coughed up bread crumbs as Peg went on calmly.
 
“He wasn’t there.
 
He goes to check on his mother on Sundays
whenever we’re in for the night.
 
I knew
that, silly.
 
There was nothing to worry
about.”
 
She took a delicate bite of an
apple and scowled at him.
 
“Relax.
 
I would never risk getting you in trouble.
 
Besides, this is my house.
 
I can use any room I want for anything I
want, can’t I?”

“If
you say so.
 
Pass me that bottle, will you?”
 
He took a long drink of the lukewarm ginger
ale and cleared his throat.
 
“I’m just
thinking of how this would look to anyone who happened to find us
here.
. .like this.”
 
He again tried to close his shirt but found it had plastered to his
skin.
 

“You’re
wet.
 
Why don’t you just take it
off?”
 
She casually munched a grape,
offering him the bunch with her free hand.
 
“I won’t mind.”

“Absolutely
not.”
 
He got to his feet and headed for the
bathroom where he snatched his dressing gown from the back of the door.
 
Making sure he was out of her line of sight,
he peeled off the shirt, wiped his chest dry with it and shrugged on the robe,
belting it snuggly closed.
 
When he
returned to his place on the carpet, she grinned.

“Suit
yourself.
 
You look very dapper in that.”
 
She plucked another grape, smiling as she
popped it in her mouth.

He knew
she was playing with
him,
he just couldn’t quite make
out her game.
 
Sitting across from him,
the tray between them, she appeared completely innocent.
 
Had he not already seen that innocence mutate
into passion in the blink of an eye, he might have enjoyed the sight of
her.
 
Her pajamas, tailored shirt and
baggy trousers of white satin with blue piping, were designed for practicality,
but the way they clung to her body suggested an absence of anything beneath.
 
Unable to find a suitable place to rest his
gaze, he tried to focus on her hair, waving softly around her shoulders, but
that too led him into dangerous waters.

“Did
you enjoy the movie?”
 
He blinked
stupidly at her question.
 
“You know,
Ivanhoe?”
 

“Yes.
 
Did you?”

“Sure.
 
Elizabeth Taylor is so beautiful, don’t you
think?”
 
Yet another grape, this one
poised between her teeth for an instant.
 
“Or do you like the Joan Fontaine type
better
?”

He
might be safe with this kind of chatter, he decided.
 
“Um.
 
I find Miss Taylor a bit too lush for my
taste.
 
I prefer slender women, so I
suppose Miss Fontaine is more my type.
 
Although I’ve always thought she was bit limp, if you know what I
mean.
 
But I would have thought you’d
have your eyes glued to Robert Taylor.
 
All that heroic masculinity.”
 

“Not
really.
 
He’s too old.
 
And if you really look at him, he’s not that
handsome.
 
Although he
does have nice blue eyes.”
 
She
held out the grapes again.
 
“These are
really sweet.
 
You should try some.”

He took
the bunch and Peg brushed her hands together before running them up into her
hair.
 
With an exaggerated stretch of her
arms above her head, she yawned.
 

“Getting
sleepy?”
 
Was that hope or apprehension
that caused his voice to catch?

“A
little.
 
The breeze is wonderful in here.”
 
With one graceful move, she laid full length
on the floor, spreading her hair on the carpet around her.
 
“This is nice, isn’t it?”

“Um.
 
Isn’t what nice?”
 
Impossible not
to stare at the glory spread before him.
 

“Just
being together like this, eating and talking.
 
It’s kind of cozy, like a slumber party.”

He nearly
choked again.
 
“I hope you haven’t been
to many slumber parties in men’s bedrooms.
 
Really, brat, you’ve got no business being here.”

She
rolled on her side, raising herself on one elbow.
 
“You really want me to go?”
 
That innocence had shifted into flawless
feminine allure.
 
Eyes reflecting the
lamplight, hair cascading over one shoulder and lips curved in a half-smile of
seductive perfection, she literally took his breath away.
 

“No” he
managed to gasp.
 
“But that’s beside the
point.”

Lying
back, she folded her arms beneath her head.
 
“Until you want me to leave, or I’m ready to leave, I think I’ll
stay.”
 
For a moment, she stared
thoughtfully up at the ceiling.
 
“Kendall?”

“Yes?”
 
Wary, but warming to her game, he leaned
forward, resting his elbows on his knees for a better view.
 
No harm in appreciating the beauty of her
silhouette from afar.

“Have
you ever been in love?”

He
hesitated, trying to guess where she was leading.
 
“I thought so once.”

“What
happened?”

“Things
didn’t work out.”

When
she turned her head, her expression was soft, sympathetic.
 
“Why not?”

“We
weren’t suited, I suppose.”
 
She continued
to stare expectantly and he felt compelled to go on.
 
Where was the harm, as long as he kept
strictly to the admissible facts?
 
“You
really want to hear this?”