Million Dollar Marriage. Maggie Shayne

      “I don’t know. I didn’t see who, and it wasn’t a voice I knew.”

      Crabtree eyed the punch bowl, and her look changed again, to one of alarm. “Oh, my.”

      “I didn’t have any of the punch, Ms. Crabtree,” Lucy went on. “And I’ll drive Holden home. There’s no need to call his father. He’d only blame you and the school for this anyway.”

      The teacher looked up sharply, as if she hadn’t thought of that before, and then seemed thoughtful. “Are you sure you didn’t have any of the punch, dear?”

      “I wouldn’t think of driving if I had, Ms. Crabtree,” she said, sounding like a saint.

      “Of course you wouldn’t. All right, then. Get him home, and I’ll dump the punch down the drain and make a fresh batch.” She walked away muttering that she’d have to check every single student who planned to drive tonight before letting them leave.

      Holden was still sitting on the gym floor. When Lucy reached down to help him up, he took her hand and let her, giving her a crooked smile. “I owe you one, Lucinda in the Sky.”

      “Yeah,” she said. “You do.”

      She felt so nervous she could barely keep her mom’s car on the road as she drove Holden toward his home. He wouldn’t invite her inside. She knew he wouldn’t. She would die if he did. But he wouldn’t.

      The place was a mansion. Tall and stately. So elegant with its pristine white paint, gleaming black shutters, and two-story porch spanning the entire front of the place, its columns stretching from top to bottom. It was almost…presidential. In a very Texas kind of way.

      She pulled into the paved, curving driveway. No lights glowed from inside the house, only outdoor lights shone. Twin rows of them, lining either side of the sidewalk from driveway to front porch. And more, gleaming from around back.

      “Come in for a minute?” Holden asked.

      Oh, God, he did ask. His voice was slurred and she knew better than to accept. She really did.

      “Okay,” she said. She got out of the car and Holden took her arm. She wasn’t sure if he took it because he wanted to touch her, or because he needed to hold on for balance. But either way, they walked together up the sidewalk, toward the porch and the front door.

      “Holden, your parents… Don’t you think you ought to go in the back way or something? If they see you like this…”

      “They’re out,” he told her. “See? Dad’s Caddy isn’t here. There was some charity thing. Won’t be home for hours. And the kids—Logan and Eden—are spending the night at Uncle Ryan’s.”

      “Oh.” Her throat was suddenly dry.

      Holden led her across the wide porch, dug for a key under the doormat, and unlocked the massive doors. They were double, with stained-glass insets in a fan pattern, and complemented on either side by rectangular glass windows as tall as the doors themselves.

      Opening one of the doors, Holden pulled her inside. “See? I told you.” He looked around the dark foyer, shrugged. “No one’s here. Come on.”

      “Wh-where are we going?”

      “My room.”

      “I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” she said.

      Holden smiled in the darkness, and reached for a light switch. “Fine. The living room?”

      When he flicked the lights on, things seemed less frightening to her.

      “That would be better.” She relaxed and followed Holden along the massive foyer and through a wide, arching doorway into the living room. He promptly collapsed on a huge leather sofa that smelled so rich she couldn’t believe it. She sat down carefully beside him.

      “I see you around school a lot,” he said, leaning his head back on the sofa, closing his eyes. “At football practice, or in the cafeteria. In the halls sometimes. Near my locker.”

      She shrugged, and felt her face heat.

      “You like me, don’t you, Lucy?”

      When she didn’t answer, he opened his eyes, sat up a little.

      “Don’t look so surprised. What, did you think I hadn’t noticed?”

      “You never seem to notice me,” she replied, then bit her lip.

      “God, you’re so stiff. Sit back, Lucy. Relax a little.”

      Taking a deep breath, she leaned back, only to find his arm now encircled her shoulders. “It’s okay, you know. I like you, too. Always have.”

      “You…you do?”

      He smiled crookedly. And the next thing she knew he was turning her toward him, bending close, and kissing her. His kiss was wet and insistent; his tongue sloppy when he began sliding it in and out of her mouth. Was this the way it was supposed to be? He tasted like whatever sort of liquor he’d been drinking. Smelled like it, too. And within a moment, his hand was under her sweater, inside her bra, closing over her breast.

      She pushed him away. “Holden…stop.”

      Sitting up, blinking down at her, he stared for a long time. Then he shook his head. “Sorry. I…don’t know what I was thinking. You’re not that kind of girl.” He pressed a hand to his forehead as if trying to squeeze some sense into it. “I know better than to act like that with you.”

      It was, she realized, her moment of truth. One of the most defining moments of her life. She was seventeen years old, and a virgin. And here was her chance to change that…with the only boy she would ever want in that way. The one chance she’d dreamed about, waited for. She would be Holden Fortune’s girl. He’d drive her to school, walk her to classes, sit with her at lunch, take her to dances…maybe even give her his class ring, something he hadn’t done with any of his other girlfriends.

      She would never treat him the way they had. Never.

      “Holden,” she said.

      He lifted his head, bleary-eyed and unfocused.

      “I could be that kind of girl…for you.”

      His smile was slow and slightly crooked. “No, you couldn’t…”

      She leaned up and pressed her lips to his again. This time when he put his tongue in her mouth, she touched it with hers. And when his hand slipped under her sweater she pressed herself against its touch.

      Lifting his head away, his voice gruff, he whispered, “Let’s…let’s go up to my room.” He held out a hand. She got up, helped him to his feet, and then, with effort, up the stairs.

      He started kissing her again before they even stumbled through his bedroom door. She fell backward, Holden still wrapped around her, and landed on the bed. It was fast, brief, messy, and not at all what she had expected. All so clinical. He didn’t hug her or hold her, caress her or kiss her. He shoved her panties down, and pushed up her skirt. Didn’t even take off his jeans. Just lowered them and—did it. It hurt at first, and then the pain eased, and it was all over.

      But…it couldn’t be. Surely there was more to sex than…than that.

      Holden lay on top of her, very still, breathing deeply and steadily. Lucinda shook him. “Holden?” He didn’t respond and tears welled up in her eyes. “Holden, please…”

      He grumbled and rolled off her. A glance at his face made her realize that he was out cold, and no amount of shaking or pleading would wake him up. She dragged the stained sheet out from under him, wrapped herself in it, snatched up her clothes and ran into the bathroom attached to his bedroom, slamming the door behind her. It had been awful. Embarrassing, humiliating, and awful.

      She cried for a few minutes. Then told herself to stop it. She’d wanted this. And…and