Beguiled Again: A Romantic Comedy by Patricia Burroughs Page B

door. She had her hand on the handle when Jeff joined her.
    “Go right ahead with your exciting evening.” He pressed his palm against the door.
    She pulled but couldn’t budge it.  
    “But as for forgetting what just happened between us...” He raked her body with his eyes before planting one last, lingering kiss on her forehead.
    “You can try.”

CHAPTER FIVE

    THE CHILDREN HAD been asleep for hours. The wind was picking up; she thought that a cold front must be coming through. Outside on the porch, an occasional gust caught the swing and sent it creaking; it slowed and quieted; another gust, and the creaking started again.
    Cecilia raised up on one elbow and studied the digital clock across the room: midnight. The witching hour. And she’d be a witch tomorrow unless she got some sleep. Her shoulders ached from tossing from one side to the other, and her neck was getting stiff.
    This is ridiculous. She switched on the radio, sat upright in the bed and folded her arms across her knees. Resting her cheek on her arms, she stared out the window.
    “Flashback to the nineties...” droned the late night deejay in sultry tones, and her bedroom filled the soundtrack of her youth. It was an age of divas, with Whitney and Madonna at the top of their form and Mariah and Janet exploding onto the scene. An age of dreams of fame and riches, of singing along with the radio, with tapes, in every talent show and every stage that she could reach.  
    And not just the divas. She’d been just as likely to grab her guitar and sing Tracy Chapman or Jewel, Etheridge or Clapton. Memories tugged at her, threatening to pull her under, plunging her back to her high school years. And of course, those had begun with... with a freshman girl tripping over a senior boy and sprawling, geeklike, at his feet.
    He was the last thing she wanted to think about now. His sudden return into her life was keeping her awake in the first place.
    And, of course, those memories also included Robert.  
    She jerked out of the bed and to her feet.
    The past held no solace for a sleepless night.
    She slipped into her terry robe and padded through the house to the kitchen. Dreading the blinding ceiling light, she used the diffused glow from the light above the stove to see. On the top shelf of the corner cabinet she found what she wanted: a dusty bottle of wine that had been waiting for a celebration for two and a half years. A gift from a well-meaning friend after her divorce. Somehow Cecilia had never felt like the failure of her marriage was something to celebrate.
    So tonight it would serve a far more useful purpose: calm her frazzled nerves and help her sleep. She had two recording sessions tomorrow, nine to twelve at Ad-Com, Inc., and one to four at RPM Productions. A wine-filled juice glass cupped in her hand, she grimaced. Had she remembered to find a place for the kids after school?
    It was funny how wide-awake she had felt in bed, and how tired she felt now that she was on her feet. A steady scraping noise drew her to the living room window. She pulled back the lace curtains and peered into the yard. The pecan trees needed trimming again. Every three years Robert had climbed up with a chain saw and cut the branches away from the house. This must be the third year, and Robert wasn’t here to do it. She pictured herself on the highest limb with the roaring chainsaw and had to stifle a giggle. She supposed she’d have to hire someone. Damn. She certainly didn’t want to see her money go out for such mundane things as tree trimming. Maybe Jeff...
    Don’t be ridiculous, she scolded herself, and pivoted away from the window, inadvertently splashing wine down her neck. It tickled down the valley between her breasts, and she dabbed at it with a corner of her robe. One way or another Jeff kept her awake, and she didn’t have time for such nonsense.
    She tipped the glass to her lips and drained it, determined to sleep at all costs. But her sleep was haunted