LaVyrle Spencer - Spring Fancy

The sun had turned warm. The sense of expanding familiarity and burgeoning acquaintanceship spun an ethereal web about the handsome man in his ruffles and tux and the dazzling young woman at his side.

Laughter came readily, and a certain amount of cavalier flirtation was inevitable. She found herself turning to glimpse his strong blunt fingers on the wheel with new interest, his jaw and mouth with forbidden curiosity.

"Isn't it odd that we've never met before?"

He turned, studied her silently, then nonchalantly returned his gaze to the open field beyond the city offices and the library on the outskirts of the suburb where it joined the corn and potato and gladiola fields at the edge of HennepinCounty. The procession had broken up now, and the Haynes was purring along on its own.

"Yes, considering how long we've been friends with the bride and groom. I've known Mick since we were in elementary school, but then he went to the U and I went to Vo-Tech."

"And I've known Sandy since high school."

His eyes wandered back to her for a brief glittering second, then he looked away again. "Well, now that we've met, Winnifred Gardner, there's nothing we can do about it, is there?"

It was a startling question and raised a shiver of apprehension up her arms. Yet she could not be tempted to indulge in spring fancy regarding this man. "I think it's time we headed for the reception. It'll be starting in-do you have a watch?"

He lifted a hand from the wide thick steering wheel and pushed up a ruffled cuff to reveal a winking gold watch. The gesture was at once commonplace, yet captivating. It scared her, her gut reaction to such a simple movement.

"It's nearly four-fifteen."

"We have to be at the reception hall by five, and I've left my street clothes in the changing room at the church."

"We'd better head back, then."

He pulled into a side road and wheeled into the start of a U-turn. She watched his neck as he craned to check the stretch of road behind them. When he turned suddenly and caught her studying him, she shifted her attention to view the rank and file of dried ivory cornstalks marching across an unplowed field to their right.

One car whisked past, then another. It grew silent, and she turned to see what was holding them up. But Joseph was no longer checking behind him for traffic. He was staring at her.

"We've lost the others," she announced unnecessarily.

"Just as well." His hand fell to the shifting lever between their knees, and he nudged it into neutral. "Because there's something I've been wanting to do all afternoon." Her heart and blood sounded the alarm, but with a smooth commanding movement he slipped one arm around her shoulders, the other to her ribs, and pulled her close. He dipped his head to avoid the wide brim of her straw hat, still it all happened so fast she hadn't a thought of resisting until it was over.

He kissed her with a soft exploratory pressure that was rife with inquisitive speculation. His lips were hard, warm, and remained closed for the most part. The compelling contact lasted perhaps ten seconds, and during the last five her hand pressed his lapel more in surprise than resistance. Just before he pulled back, his lips parted to bestow a swift wet stroke of his tongue across her mouth, encountering the seam of her lips and the ivory texture of sleek teeth within. Her lips dropped open, but too late to encourage or to allow the kiss to become more intimate or lengthy.

His dark sparkling eyes were very close. His lashes caught chips of sun and threw them into her eyes. The brim of her hat touched his curls.

"Joseph…" she whispered upon the wings of surprise. "You mustn't do that." She treated him once again to that unconscious one-eyed blink that made him believe her the most charming creature he'd ever laid eyes upon.

"No one ever calls me Joseph. To my friends I'm Jo-Jo. To my brothers, Joey, and to most people, Joe. But I love the way you say it-Joseph."

Inanely she repeated her words of a moment ago, struggling for composure and a return of calm heart. "Joseph, you mustn't…" Pressing his chest, she felt his heart thudding.

"I know. But you mustn't move your lips along with the wedding vows when they're being pronounced and stare at a man with those irresistible blue eyes, either."

"I didn't…" Again she blinked, a slow-motion flutter of a single eyelid that captivated him. But she tipped her head aside slightly as a newborn smile began to play upon her lips. "Did I?"

He dipped out from under the brim of her hat but kept one arm around her shoulders, his other hand gripping her upper arm, keeping her turned partially his way. The shadows from the wide-brimmed bonnet flickered beguilingly across her nose and forehead. A strand of hair rested in a gentle coil against her temple. He inserted his finger into the lazy curl, and it gripped him like the clinging finger of an infant. "And who were you thinking of as you whispered the words?"

Her lips parted, and the tip of her tongue peeked out to wet the full upper one, but she remained silent, staring up at him.

"Paul Hildegard?" he prompted.

"Hildebrandt," she corrected in a rather dazed breathless voice.

"Hildebrandt, then."

"No, not Paul Hildebrandt."

He touched the end of her nose with a fingertip. "How naughty of you, Miss Gardner, and only three months before your wedding to the man."

She pressed her palm firmly against his lapel and eased away. Though he released her, his shoulder still curved in her direction. "Who?" he insisted quietly.

She dropped her eyes to the flower basket on her lap. "I wasn't thinking of anyone. I was concentrating on the words. They're very beautiful."

His left hand moved. Its forefinger curled, then pressed lightly beneath her chin until she was forced to tip it up. For a moment his eyes danced merrily into hers, then he accused, "Why, you little liar."

"There are times, kind sir, when lying is the wisest choice."

His eyes darkened thoughtfully. He stroked the hollow beneath her lower lip with his thumb-slightly rough on her fine skin-then his hand fell away, and he turned to put the car into gear. The road was clear, and he headed back toward town.

"You're right, of course. So will you lie to him about what just happened?"

"I… there'll be no reason. He'd have no reason to ask."

"Was he there this afternoon?"

"Yes."

"And he'll be at the reception?"

"Yes."

"Then I'd better be careful around you, hadn't I?"

She didn't know what to reply or what to make of him. He was utterly direct. She'd never encountered a person as straightforward as he before. It seemed impossible to combat the barrage of reactions he could unleash by such blatant innuendos as his last. Even though such words rolled from his tongue as glibly as quicksilver and sounded like the practiced lines of an actor, he was devastating, this best man with whom she'd been paired for the day. And Winnie knew, she, too, had best watch her step.

"You'll be pleased to know Paul isn't the jealous type."

"What type is he?"

She mused while they cruised southward on Zane Avenue. "He's logical. Computer nuts tend to be that way. If he can't feed the facts into his terminal and come up with a black or white answer-either yes, there's reason to be jealous, or no, there's none-he'll take the logical sensible route and not be."

"God, he sounds like a bore."

"I should resent that, Joseph Duggan."

"And do you?" He turned to chart her expression as she answered.

It rattled Winnifred to realize she'd had to think for a minute before deciding. "Yes. Yes, I do!"

"Wonderful! That's the first sign of a healthy relationship between you and your fiancé that I've seen yet."

"Don't make assumptions. You don't know anything about our relationship since you've never even met him or seen us together."