Always an Eaton: Sweet Dreams

Preston’s grim expression vanished like pinpoints of sun piercing an overcast sky. “He did in death what he wouldn’t do in life. He gave my mother a weekly allowance to buy food, while he paid all the bills. If she ran out of money, then she had to wait for Friday night when he placed an envelope with the money on the kitchen table. He was such a penny-pincher that my sister called him Scrooge behind his back. Well, Scrooge had invested heavily and wisely, leaving my mother very well off financially. He’d also set aside monies for me and my sister’s college fund. Yolanda went to Brown, while I went to Princeton.

“After I graduated, my mother sold the house and moved back to her hometown of Charleston, South Carolina, enrolled in the College of Charleston and earned a degree in Historic Preservation and Community Planning. Then, she applied to and was accepted into a joint MS degree in Historic Preservation with Clemson. With her education behind her, she opened a small shop selling antiques and reproductions of Gullah artifacts. Her basket-weaving courses have a six-month waiting list.”

Chandra’s mouth curved into an unconscious smile. Preston’s mother had to wait to become a widow to come into her own. Her adage was always Better Late Than Never.

“I remember my parents driving down to Florida one year, and when we went through South Carolina I saw old women sitting on the side of the road weaving straw baskets. I’m sorry we didn’t stop to buy at least one.”

“That’s too bad,” Preston remarked, “because the art of weaving baskets has been threatened with the advance of coastal development. Those living in gated subdivisions wouldn’t let the weavers come through to pluck the sweetgrass they coil with pine needles, bulrushes and palmetto fronds used to make the baskets. Thankfully the true center of sweetgrass basket weaving is flourishing in Mount Pleasant, a sea island near the Cooper River.”

“It sounds as if your mother has found her niche,” Chandra said in a soft voice, filled with a mysterious longing.

“If not her niche, then her passion. Last year she met a man who teaches historical architecture and sits on the Charleston Historic Preservation and Community Planning board. I’ve never known my mother to laugh so much as when she’s with him. She moved in with him at the beginning of the year.”

“Good for her.”

A wide grin creased Preston’s face. “If you’re talking about a romance novel, then Rose Tucker is truly a heroine.”

“Is she going to marry her hero?”

“I don’t know. I think she’s still a little skittish about marriage, because she hasn’t sold her condo. They divide their time living at his house during the week, and come into the city to stay at her condo on the weekend. It doesn’t bother me or Yolanda if they never marry, as long as they’re happy.”

“Where does your sister live?” Chandra knew she was asking Preston a lot of questions, but she’d come to appreciate the sound of his sonorous baritone voice.

Settling back against the leather seat, she closed her eyes when he talked about his older sister, his brother-in-law and two sets of identical twin nephews. Again, she wondered why he hadn’t married and fathered children when he told of the outings with his nephews. She opened her eyes when he patted her knee.

“Tell me about your family so I know what to expect.”

Chandra recognized landmarks that indicated they were only blocks from her sister’s house. “Too late. We’re almost there.”

Preston groaned aloud when the voice coming from the GPS directed him to turn right at the next street. He’d wanted Chandra to brief him as to her relatives. “Did you tell your folks you were bringing a guest?”

“Nope.”

Decelerating, he maneuvered into a parking space across the street from a three-story Colonial. “Did they expect you to bring a guest?”

Chandra unbuckled her seat belt. “If you’re asking whether I normally attend family functions with a man, then the answer is no. It’s been more than three years since I’ve had a serious boyfriend.”

Smiling, Preston rested his right arm over the back of her seat. “So, I’m your boyfriend?”

She flashed an attractive moue. “No, P.J., you’re a friend.”

He leaned closer. “Do you think I’ll ever be your boyfriend?”

Chandra leaned closer until she was inhaling the moist warmth of Preston’s breath. “You can if...”

“If what?” he whispered.

“You can if I can trust you.”

Preston froze. “What’s with you and the trust thing?”

“It’s very important to me, Preston. Without trust there can be no boyfriend, girlfriend, no relationship.”

He smiled. “Are you amenable to something that goes beyond platonic?”

Chandra blinked. “I am, but only—”

“If you can trust me,” he said, completing her sentence.

“Yes.”

Preston angled his head, pressing his mouth to Chandra’s, reveling in the velvety warmth of her parted lips. It had been years since he’d sat in a car kissing a woman but there was something about Chandra Eaton that made him feel like an adolescent boy. First it was the unexpected erection after reading her erotic dreams and now it was having her close.

“You have my solemn vow that I will never give you cause to mistrust me.”

Chandra quivered at the gentle tenderness of the kiss, and in that instant she wanted to trust Preston not because she wanted to but needed to. Every man she’d met after Laurence had become a victim of her acerbic tongue and negative attitude whenever they’d expressed an interest in her.

She’d loved Laurence, expecting to spend the rest of her life with him, but when he caved under pressure from his family, her faith in the opposite sex was shattered—almost beyond repair. However, Preston Tucker was offering a second chance. She didn’t expect marriage, not because he was a confirmed bachelor, but because it didn’t figure into her short-term plans.

Chandra wanted to secure a teaching position, settle into her new residence, and dating Preston would become an added bonus. “I believe you,” she whispered, succumbing to the forceful, drugging possession of his lips. It was with supreme reluctance that she ended the kiss. “Let’s stop before one of the kids see us. I don’t want to send my nieces the wrong message, that it’s okay to make out in a car.”

Preston’s lids lowered, he successfully concealed his innermost feelings from the woman he wanted to make love to with a need that bordered on desperation. He knew it was her beauty, poise, intelligence and sensuality that fueled his obsession.

“The curtain just came down on the first act.”

Chandra smiled up at him through her lashes. “When do we begin act two?”

“Tonight.”

Chapter 8

Tonight. The single word reverberated in Chandra’s head as she led the way toward the rear of the house where her sister lived with her husband and their nieces. The sound of voices raised in laughter greeted her and Preston when they walked into an expansive patio overlooking an inground pool. Her parents were holding court with their granddaughters and grandson, Myles and Zabrina lay together on a webbed lounger by the pool and Griffin stood at the stove in the outdoor kitchen with an arm around Belinda’s waist. A long rectangular table with seating for twelve and a smaller table with half that amount were set up under a white tent.

Chandra stopped short, causing Preston to plow into her back; she saw someone she hadn’t expected to see. Sitting under an umbrella with Denise was Xavier Eaton. The last time she’d seen her cousin was days before he was to begin his tour of duty in Afghanistan.

“I’ll introduce you to everyone after I talk to someone,” she whispered to Preston.

Arms outstretched and grinning from ear to ear, she walked into Xavier’s embrace when he stood up. She found herself crushed against a rock-hard chest. “Welcome home, Captain Eaton.”

“It’s now Major Eaton. I’d pick you up, but I have a bum leg.”

Pulling back, Chandra saw that he was supporting himself with a cane. She hadn’t realized her cousin, dressed in civilian clothes and looking more like a male model than a professional soldier, had sustained an injury. She’d lost count of the number of women who’d asked her to introduce them to Xavier. He was always polite to them, while smoothly rejecting further advances. He had also earned the reputation of remaining friends with his former girlfriends.

What they didn’t know was that he had a mistress. Xavier Phillip Eaton ate, breathed and slept military. He’d attended military prep school, graduated and then enrolled at The Citadel, The Military College of South Carolina. He continued his military education when he was accepted into the Marine Corps War College. After 9/11 he was deployed to Iraq. He completed one tour of duty before he was sent to Afghanistan.

“Is it serious?”

“It will heal.”