Susan Elizabeth Phillips - Call Me Irresistible

Something sharp scraped her leg . . . A rock dug into her spine . . . With a dark moan, he drove into her. As his weight pressed her into the ground, he shoved up her top and bared her breasts. His beard scraped her tender skin. An awful tenderness filled her as he used her body. Without courtesy, without restraint or civility. He was a fallen angel, consumed by darkness, and he took no care with her at all.

She shut her eyes against the blinding sun as he pumped inside her. Gradually, the wildness that had claimed him claimed her as well, but it happened too late. With a hoarse cry, he bared his teeth. And then he flooded her.

The harsh sound of his breathing rasped in her ears. His weight pushed the air from her lungs. Finally, he fell off her with a moan. And then everything was still.

This was what she’d wanted since the first time they’d made love. To break through his control. But the cost to him had been too great, and as he came back to himself, she saw exactly what she knew she’d see. A good man stricken by remorse.

“Don’t say it!” She slapped her hand over his bruised mouth. Slapped his jaw. “Don’t say it!”

“Jesus . . .” He scrambled to his feet. “I can’t . . . I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. Jesus, Meg . . .”

As he pulled his clothes together, she jumped up next to him, shoved her skirt down. His face was twisted, agonized. She couldn’t bear to hear his tormented apology for being human instead of a demigod. She had to do something quickly, so she poked him hard in the chest. “Now that’s what I’ve been talking about all along.”

But he’d gone pale, and her attempt at deflection fell flat. “I can’t—I can’t believe I did that to you.”

She wouldn’t give up so easily. “Could you do it again? Maybe a little slower this time, but not much.”

It was as if he didn’t hear her. “I’ll never forgive myself.”

She hid behind bravado. “You’re boring me, Theodore, and I have things to do.” First she’d try to give him back his self-respect. Then she had to face her parents. After that? She needed to turn her back on this town forever.

She grabbed her panties and adopted a cockiness she was far from feeling. “I realize I have managed to royally screw up the future of Wynette, so stop messing around here and do what you do best. Start cleaning up other people’s messes. Find Spence before he gets away. Tell him you lost your mind. Say that everybody in town knows I’m unreliable, but you still let yourself get sucked in. Then apologize for fighting with him.”

“I don’t give a damn about Spence,” he said flatly.

His words struck terror in her heart. “You will. You really, really will. Please. Do what I say.”

“Is that asshole all you can think about? After what just happened . . .”

“Yes. And it’s all I want you to think about. Here’s the thing . . . I need an undying declaration of love from you, and you’re never going to be able to give me that.”

Frustration, regret, impatience—she saw them all in his eyes. “It’s too fast, Meg. It’s too damned—”

“You’ve been more than clear.” She cut him off before he could say any more. “And no big guilt trip after I go. To be honest, I fall in and out of love fairly quickly. It won’t take me long to get over you.” She was talking too fast. “There was this guy named Buzz. I went through a good six weeks feeling sorry for myself, but, honestly, you’re no Buzz.”

“What do you mean, after you go?”

She swallowed. “Strangest thing, but Wynette’s lost its appeal. I’m taking off as soon as I talk to my parents. And aren’t you glad you don’t have to be around to witness that conversation?”

“I don’t want you to leave. Not yet.”

“Why not?” She studied him, looking for some sign she might have missed. “What am I supposed to stay around for?”

He made an odd gesture of helplessness. “I—I don’t know. Just stay.”

The fact that he wouldn’t meet her eyes told her everything. “Can’t do it, pal. I—just can’t.”

It was strange to see Ted Beaudine look so vulnerable. She pressed her lips to the undamaged corner of his mouth and hurried to the car that her ever-thoughtful parents had left for her. As she drove away, she allowed herself one last glance in the rearview mirror.

He stood in the middle of the road, watching her leave. Behind him, the vast wasteland of the landfill extended as far as the eye could see.

Meg cleaned up in the bathroom at the Chevron station on the highway, wiping away the worst of the dirt and covering up her tear streaks. She dug into the suitcase she’d wedged into the small restroom for her boho top, a clean pair of jeans to hid the scratches on her legs, and a gauzy green scarf to conceal the beard burn on her neck. Since the first time they’d made love, she’d wanted him to be so overcome by passion that he’d lose his legendary control. It had finally happened, but not in the way she’d dreamed.

She let herself in through the service entrance at the inn. Birdie would never permit guests as famous as her parents to stay anywhere but the recently renamed Presidential Suite, and she climbed the back stairs to the top floor. Each step was an exercise in willpower. From the very beginning, she’d gotten it all wrong with Ted. She hadn’t believed he’d loved Lucy, but he’d loved her then, and he still loved her now. Meg was nothing more than his rebound girl, his temporary walk on the wild side.

She couldn’t let herself give in to the pain, not when she was about to face such an excruciating reunion with her parents. She couldn’t think about Ted, or her uncertain future, or the wreckage she’d be leaving behind when she drove away from Wynette.

Her mother answered the door of the suite. She still wore the tailored platinum tunic top and slim-legged pants she’d had on at the landfill. Ironically, her fashion model mother cared little about clothes, but she dutifully dressed in the exquisite outfits her brother Michel made for her.

In the background, Meg’s father stopped pacing. She gave them both an unsteady smile. “You could have told me you were coming.”

“We wanted to surprise you,” her father said dryly.

Her mother took her by the elbows, gave her a long, hard look, then pulled her close. As Meg sank into that familiar embrace, she forgot for a moment that she was a full-grown woman. If only her parents were clueless and demanding, her life would be a lot less guilt-ridden, and she wouldn’t have to expend so much energy pretending she didn’t care about their good opinion.

She felt her mother’s hand in her hair. “Are you all right, sweetheart?”

She swallowed her tears. “I’ve been better, but considering that train wreck you witnessed, I can’t complain.”

Her father took over the embrace, squeezing her tight, then giving her a light smack on the rear, just as he’d done since she was a little girl.

“Tell us everything,” her mother said when he finally let her go. “How did you get tangled up with that awful man?”

“Dad’s fault,” Meg managed. “Spencer Skipjack is a celebrity worshiper, and I was the closest he could get to the mighty Jake.”

“You have no idea how much I want to rip that bastard apart,” the mighty Jake said.

That was a scary thought, considering her father was a Vietnam vet, and what he hadn’t learned in the Mekong Delta, he’d picked up making movies involving every form of weaponry from samurai swords to AK-47s.

Her mother made a vague gesture toward her state-of-the-art phone. “I’ve already started digging. I haven’t uncovered anything yet, but I will. A snake like that always leaves a slimy trail.”

Their anger didn’t surprise her, but where was their disappointment at having witnessed their oldest child once again at the center of a mess?

Her father returned to pacing the carpet. “He’s not going to get away with this.”

“It’s only a matter of time before his sins catch up with him,” her mother said.

They didn’t understand the implications of what they’d witnessed. They didn’t have a clue how important the golf resort was to the town or the part Meg had played in destroying that promise. All they’d seen was a slimeball insulting their beloved daughter, and a gallant younger man avenging her honor. Meg had been given a gift from heaven. Not even Dallie and Francesca seemed to have enlightened them on the drive back to the inn. If she got her parents out of town quickly enough, they’d never hear about the part she’d played in all of this.

And then she remembered the words she’d spoken to Haley . . . how you act in the next few minutes will dictate the person you’re going to be from now on.

Her circumstances were different from Haley’s, but the underlying truth remained the same. What kind of person did she want to be?

An odd sense of—not peace, because there’d be no peace for her, not for a very long time. More a sense of rightness came over her. The experiences of the past three months had torn away the fabrications she’d shrouded herself in. She’d been so convinced she could never live up to the accomplishments of the rest of her family that she hadn’t made a fair attempt at anything except nurturing her role as the family gadabout. If she’d ever risked building something for herself, she would also have risked failing in their eyes. By not risking anything, she couldn’t set herself up for failure. That’s what she’d believed, so that, in the end, she’d been left with nothing.

It was time she claimed the woman she wanted to be—a person willing to walk her own path in her own way without worrying how others judged her success or her failure, including those she loved. She needed to create her own vision of what she wanted her life to be and follow it to the end. She couldn’t do that by hiding.