Restlessly she shifted positions beneath the covers. Too well she remembered how his hands had deftly but lovingly untied the fastenings of her caftan, how he had restrained himself from touching her until he was certain it was what she wanted, too. His hands hadn’t been grasping, but pleasure-giving. His mouth was coaxing, thorough, practiced, but intent on bringing her as much pleasure as he derived from their kisses. He hadn’t rushed. He had known her every sensation and had catered to her feelings. He had known other women…
Was it any wonder that he was so popular with the ladies? From Sarah to old Mrs. Lomax in the restaurant, they all adored him, instinctively knowing that Chad was a man who loved women. His fingertips had been sure, sensual. He knew how to make himself irresistible.
Leigh moaned, recalling the hot, sweet tugging of his mouth on her nipples, the gentle lashing of his tongue. His virility had been hard, powerful, and now she wanted to be with him, to know his weight atop her, to know that force filling
God, what was becoming of her? She was a practical, level-headed woman. Look how far she had come. She was surviving widowhood and rearing her infant daughter alone, just as she had sworn to her parents she would do. She wasn’t about to let erotic fantasies about a man she hardly knew dilute her good judgment!
Repeating that resolution to herself, Leigh tried vainly to sleep.
* * *
“Here’s what I propose,” Leigh told the homeowners’ committee. “Each street will have a different motif. One street will have candy canes, one choir boys, one bells, et cetera. A supplier in Dallas has the supplies in stock. The candy canes are strung with red and white lights, the choir boys’ song books are red, and they wear white robes. Do you get the picture?”
Five heads nodded. It was the Tuesday after Thanksgiving. Leigh was meeting with the committee from Saddle Club Estates to decide, she hoped once and for all, on how they would decorate their lavish homes. As the committee couldn’t seem to agree, Leigh had taken it upon herself to find out what was available on short notice.
“We would also string the houses, outline the yards and trees, with white lights. It’s simple, but effective. Then each of you can do what you want for your Christmas trees, wreaths, and so on. But you have to let me know today.”
A man obviously impatient with the whole thing said, “I say yes and be done with it.”
“It sounds so plain,” one of the women complained.
“I said it was simple,” Leigh said with more graciousness than she felt. She was making a lot of money from this project, so she curbed the sharp retort that itched to leap off her tongue. “If we had started sooner, we could have planned something more elaborate. Next year we’ll need to start making plans in September or so. But I promise this will be pretty. You’ll be able to see the lights from miles away.”
“When can we get the stuff?” someone asked.
Leigh knew money was no object. “I can have the supplier send out everything—lights, props, the whole shebang—by air freight. He’ll get it here by Thursday if I tell him today. We can do all the work this weekend. Do you want me to hire electricians, or will you? The men who work with me in the mall will be glad to earn a Christmas bonus.”
“That’s fine then,” said the impatient man. “Saves us the hassle.”
“All right. You’re all in agreement?”
“Yes,” said another of the women. “We canvassed the neighborhood last night and everyone said that whatever we decided was okay. We contacted everyone but Chad.”
“Yeah,” the man said. “I hear he’s down in Mexico.”
At the mention of that name, the pencil that had been scratching across Leigh’s note pad came to an abrupt standstill. The point snapped off under intense pressure.
“One helluva fire from what I hear,” the man continued.
“Fire?” Leigh asked with feigned composure. Could these people be discussing Chad Dillon?
“Yeah. One of our homeowners works for Flameco.”
“Flameco?”
“You never heard of Flameco?” the man asked.
“N… no,” she stammered. “I haven’t lived here very long.”
“World renowned and based right here in Midland. Wild-well control. Those boys put out oil-well fires, y’see?”
Tentacles of fear wound around her vocal cords and she couldn’t speak. She only nodded dumbly. Maybe it wasn’t her Chad. It wasn’t that unusual a name.
“Guess Dillon’s been with them since he got out of Tech. How long’s that been? What year did Chad graduate? I can remember him eating up that football field. Godamighty. Could that boy run with a football!” The man was on to a subject he could enjoy now.
Leigh stood quickly, upsetting her purse. As she knelt down to scoop up the spilled contents with shaking hands, she said, “If that’s all for now, I’d better get to work. I’ll be in touch with you, but plan to have this done over the weekend.”
She stumbled out of the homeowners’ club house and leaned against the wall, gasping for air suddenly gone scarce. Chad was in Mexico fighting an oil-well fire. Highly specialized work. Highly dangerous. Highly paid. Oh, God, it was Greg all over again!