Читать книгу Fools Rush In - Gwynne Forster - Страница 9

Duncan fed Tonya and rocked her to sleep. Now what? His notes on Buddy Kilgore’s scam operation didn’t entice him. He couldn’t recall a time when his work had failed to excite him, when the lure of his next winning headline didn’t light him up like gasoline dumped on an open fire. He wandered back down to the basement and put on a stack of his old Ray Charles records, but after a few minutes, he switched off the record player, ambled over to the window, and looked out at the night.

What the devil had come over him? He’d flirted with her. In a way, he’d even challenged Justine. Thank god, she hadn’t taken him up on it. He didn’t know her, and even if he did, he wasn’t letting another woman embroil him in an emotional web as Marie had managed with such wily finesse—withholding affection and sex to get what she wanted and pulling out the stops in wild, frenzied lovemaking if he capitulated. It had taken him months to develop an immunity to her brazen bargaining. Love. She hadn’t known the meaning of it. He recognized something special and different in Justine, but he’d take an oath of celibacy before he’d get involved with his daughter’s nanny. Besides, he liked his women willowy, svelte. Or had. After his debacle of a marriage to tall, slim Marie, he’d be the first to admit the folly of picking women by their size.

Clouds covered the moon momentarily and raced onward. Somewhere a dog barked, not because of the moon’s enticement, it seemed, but in furor, and he wondered at the intruder’s fate. Disgusted with himself for his mental meandering and the images he conjured up to avoid thinking of Justine, he knocked his left fist into his right palm and let out a deep breath. His mind wouldn’t be shackled, however, and he gave in to his thoughts. Something about her had gotten to him the minute he saw her. Her eyes seemed to…He couldn’t name it. His hands moved ruthlessly over his tight curls. Had he known her before? And where?

Still restless, he closed the blinds and started slowly up the stairs. Was a failed love-marriage any reason for entering into one that was strictly a business deal? He had loved Marie, but soon after their marriage, he’d begun to wonder if she’d traded her freedom for financial security. She’d sworn that she loved him, but he’d never felt deep down that he was her world, her priority.

“I’ve never been anywhere or done anything,” she’d announced, “but you’ve been everywhere and you’ve got your life the way you want it. I didn’t want a baby, but you insisted on us adopting one, and I gave in. You love that baby more than you love me.”

“If you’re looking for excuses,” he said, “that one will serve as well as any.”

She’d merely shrugged and looked at herself in the mirror while she perfected her makeup.

“What’s your bottom line?” he’d asked her, dreading the answer.

He had marveled at the smoothness with which her reply slipped through her lips. “I’m checking out. You’ve got your life. I have to make mine, and I can’t do that tied to another woman’s child. I’m sorry, Duncan, but this scene’s not for me, and I’m tired of pretending. I wish you the best.”

The finality of those words had slammed into him with the loud finality of a hangman’s trapdoor. He glanced toward Justine’s bedroom door, and a rueful smile claimed his face. That woman would show him what he was made of, sure as his name was Duncan Banks.

Justine read the last of the Aunt Mariah letters and decided to answer the least serious one first. “If you love this man and you’re sure he loves you,” she wrote to a senior citizen, “you don’t need my advice. You want me to agree with your decision. If it feels right, go for it.”

To the twenty-seven-year-old woman who complained that her father allowed her twenty-five percent of her earnings, saved the remainder, and kept her bankbook, she advised, “Grow up. Take your bankbook and your clothes and move into your own apartment, preferably in another city.”

Wife abuse required more careful consideration. She wrote to a Washington, D.C. woman, “Eleven years of beatings and your husband’s numerous other acts of mistreatment always followed by his bent-knee apologies should tell you that he will not change. You have no children and no excuse for putting up with his pathological cruelty. Leave him, get a job, and take care of yourself.”

The sound of Duncan’s footsteps as he loped up the stairs sent shivers from her armpits to her fingertips. His door closed and she let herself breathe. It had to work; this was the only way in which she could be with her child.

The next morning, she got Tonya settled and began to organize her day around the child’s eating and sleeping schedules. She couldn’t have been happier that Duncan wasn’t around to disconcert her. She made a list of things she’d need—a child’s record player, records, blackboard, little musical instruments, crayons, drawing paper, and books for Tonya—and shoved the note under Duncan’s door. Then she called her editor.

“Big Al speaking. What can I do for you, Justine?”

She told him she preferred each column to have a general theme and answers to five letters. “I’ll mail my first one this afternoon.”

“Right on. Think you could come in for a conference Wednesday morning? We wanna talk syndication. If I can swing it, you’ll make some money.”

Money was not her first priority, but it wouldn’t pay to say so. “Mind if I bring my little charge?”

“Sure, baby. Long as she’s quiet. Eleven o’clock.”

“Sweetheart, the sight of you still gives a guy palpitations,” Al greeted Justine that Wednesday morning. “A nanny, huh? Well, honey, things are about to change. You won’t be doing that for long. Warren Stokes says he can syndicate you easy as that.” He snapped his long, thick fingers.

Justine gaped at him. “Warren Stokes? Is he the Warren Stokes we knew at Howard U?”

“That I am. Hello, Justine. Still beautiful, I see. And what a beautiful little girl you have there!”

That couldn’t be regret she heard in his voice. “I’m her nanny.”

His raised eyebrows and pursed lips didn’t surprise her. He’d have been less astonished to see her get out of a chauffeured Town Car. “Nanny, eh? I suppose you’ll explain that.”

Their conference ended with Justine’s agreement to syndicate after six months if the public’s reception of her column warranted it.

“Have lunch with me, Justine.”

She shifted Tonya to her hip. “That may not be wise, Warren. Best not to revisit the past.”

His gentle grasp of her left arm was her clue that the old Warren hadn’t changed. He still had the tenacity of an irritated bull. “I never married, because you have my heart. Always did and always will. We shouldn’t have let a stupid misunderstanding separate us. Is there anyone in your life right now? A husband?”

She shook her head. “If we pursue this syndication deal, I suppose we’ll run into each other. It’s been nice seeing you again.”

It didn’t surprise her that he wouldn’t be put off. “I’ll call you. You won’t get away from me this time.”

Something began to roll like rough ocean waves in the pit of her stomach. Warren never let anything get between him and what he wanted. She liked him, but she hadn’t suffered when, in a fit of jealousy, he’d broken their friendship because she’d regarded him only as a friend. She didn’t want a romantic entanglement with him or anyone else, and especially not now when she was trying to put order into her life.

She looked him in the eye. “Those were college days, and we were children. Let the past lie.”

Tonya called “bye bye” to him as Justine walked away. The years could have whittled down Warren Stokes’s ego, but she doubted it. As students, they’d talked of their future and shared their dreams. She had admired his dogged pursuit of his goal, loved his hip-swaggering way of dancing, and enjoyed arguing against his conservative views, but she hadn’t wanted him as a man. This older Warren wasn’t the man to be a woman’s pal, and she didn’t want a lover. She didn’t intend to give Duncan an excuse to fire her. If necessary, she’d don a nun’s habit.

Justine opened the front door and raced down the hall to answer the telephone. Mattie would let it ring indefinitely. No one had told her to identify Duncan’s home, so she picked up the phone and said, “Hello.” She couldn’t find her voice when the caller, a woman, wanted to know whether GDB was still looking for a wife. She seemed to panic at Justine’s dumbfounded silence, and an explanation of the notice in Dee Dee’s column spilled from her mouth. So he’d advertised for a wife. She couldn’t believe he’d need to resort to that. Unless…She promised the woman that she’d deliver the message.

Perplexed, she asked Mattie to watch Tonya for a few minutes while she went to the nearest drug store. She bought a copy of The Maryland Journal and scanned it until she found Dee Dee’s column. Stunned, she threw the paper into a refuse bin and drove home. Why would he do such a thing?

“I’m so sorry. The position has been filled,” she told the next caller.

The woman’s disappointed, “Oh no. Oh no” didn’t give her a sense of guilt. If Duncan married, Tonya wouldn’t need a nanny, and she intended to be the woman who took care of her child. Besides, what kind of an environment would an arranged marriage be for a baby?

She put Tonya to bed, ate a sandwich, and settled down to work. To the next four women callers who wanted to marry GDB, she responded, “The position has been filled,” reasoning that she hadn’t lied, since she hadn’t said which position was no longer open.

Several weeks later, leaving the house, Duncan collided with Justine as she raced out of her bedroom to answer the hall telephone. He couldn’t have said when the phone stopped ringing, and he’d have sworn that she couldn’t either.

“Sorry.”

“I…I…Please, I didn’t see you. I hope I didn’t…”

“No. No. I’m…I’m fine, but you must weigh a ton.”

Still holding her, he managed to say, “Well, no. Only about a hundred and ninety-five. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

He told himself to take his hand off her, but his arms remained around her shoulders, and her soft, ample breast nestled against his chest. A stricken look spread over her face, and he realized that he had tightened his hold on her in an unmistakable caress.

“Duncan…Please…I…”

If her wide eyes hadn’t silently pleaded with him, he didn’t know how far he’d have gone. He doubted that he would have released her of his own will. It had been so long since he’d known the loving arms of a warm sweet woman wrapped tightly around him. So long since he’d floated out of himself in the hot haven of a woman’s welcoming body. He wasn’t fooled by her business-like manners, walking past him day after day with barely a smile on her face, always so damned civilized and courteous. If she’d behave a little more naturally with him, he’d believe he held no attraction for her. But she worked too hard at it, always making appoint of not being interested.

“Duncan…”

He realized he’d been staring into her eyes, looking for he didn’t know what. “You all right now?” he asked in an attempt to diffuse the situation.

She nodded and rushed back into her room. Only then did he realize that she’d been dressed in a silk Japanese kimono. No wonder she’d gotten away from him as fast as possible.

He got back into his room, closed the door, and leaned against it. That had been close. Too close, if he didn’t want to start anything with Justine—and he didn’t—he’d better let her go and get someone else to take care of Tonya. He slapped his left fist into the palm of his right hand until the sting of it stopped him. Shaking his head as though to admonish himself, he conceded that he couldn’t do that either. It wouldn’t be right. After a month, he didn’t have a single complaint against her, and he doubted Tonya would have been as happy in Marie’s care as she was with Justine. If he wanted his child to have a woman’s love and caring, he didn’t think he’d find a better source than Justine. Her presence raised his home environment to a higher level, gave it a true feeling of home. He straightened up and walked over to the window, examining his feelings. After over half an hour of musing over his life, he told himself that he, and not Justine, was the problem. He had to figure out what he wanted between them and behave with her accordingly. Armed with this determination, he crossed the hall and risked knocking on her door.

“Yes?”

“Did Mattie tell you I’m having a dinner party tomorrow night? If I had seen you, I would have told you myself. Just a few close friends.”

“She said some people were coming over. Do you want me to help?”

He realized then that he didn’t think of her as a servant, and maybe he ought to. Seeing her in that light might have a taming influence on his libido. “No, indeed. That’s Mattie’s job. You’re invited as my guest. See you this evening.”

For once, she didn’t look him in the eye the way she did when she wanted to get a point over. Instead, she gazed so intently at something over his left shoulder that he had to control the impulse to turn around and see what had her attention. “Uh…Thanks for the invitation. How casual are your dinner parties?”

The question took him back a bit. What kind of dinner parties did she go to? “Well, I put on a jacket and tie. You mean what should you wear?” At the risk of annoying her, he grinned broadly. “That red jumpsuit would be just the ticket.” He’d wanted to see her in it again.

Her eyes widened, and she shifted her gaze to his face. “Really?”

“You bet. And don’t forget those big silver earrings.”

She stared at him as though in wonderment. “Why’re you so surprised? Believe me, you made quite a picture in that get-up.”

“Thanks.”

For once she didn’t have a come-back, and he wondered what she thought of the way she looked. As far as he was concerned, she had what she needed and plenty of it in just the right places. “See you this evening. Oh, yes. Those things you ordered for Tonya…I’ll pick them up Saturday.” He braced his left hip against the doorjamb. “You grooming her for a show in the National Gallery of Art or for the Metropolitan Opera House? Hell, Justine, she’s only a year old.”

Her shoulders squared and her back stiffened. She’d gone from kitten to lioness in a second, and he prepared himself for their first argument. But her gentle voice belied her battle-ready demeanor. “Duncan, she’s a thirteen-month-old who sings all the time and draws on everything. If she doesn’t have crayons, she uses her little fingers.” She laid her head to one side, and he knew he could expect a challenge. “Do you know how Picasso and Leontyne Price got started?”

He didn’t, and he expressed his capitulation in joyous laughter. “Remind me not to confront you unless I’m ready to do battle.”

Justine hummed a few bars of “Mighty Like A Rose,” one of her mother’s few legacies. Whenever she hurt, her mother would kiss and rock her and sing a few bars of that song. She didn’t remember the words, because she was five when her mother died, but the tune lived in her memory, a cherished possession.

Overjoyed as she was to be with her child, happiness eluded her. The flame between Duncan and her would someday erupt into an inferno, and when it did, the Piper would come to collect his due. She picked up a copy of The Evening Post, glanced at her column, and threw the paper aside. What would she do if Duncan’s self-control deserted him and she found herself locked to him in the consuming passion of which she’d begun to dream? He’d send her away, because he didn’t want an involvement with her any more than she wanted it with him. But oh, how good it had been to feel his hands on her and her breast against his rock-hard chest. She had wanted to scream at him, Just take me and love me and show me what I’ve missed. Shocked at her thoughts, she walked out on her balcony and gazed at the forest of oaks that proudly displayed their orange, red, purple, and yellow autumn leaves. She sucked in her breath in awe at the beauty her eyes beheld. Her mood of minutes earlier dissipated and a smile crossed her face. Maybe this was where Mattie got ideas for her hair. The thought enlivened her spirits.

Was she his partner? An extra woman for the unattached man? Would he have a date? She considered staying in her room rather than be seen as an extra at the dinner table. Her older aunt invited couples only to dinner, and the widowed one did the same, except for the “friend” who’d been a “friend” for as long as she could remember. Justine had long ago decided that her aunt’s friend was her lover and had been years before Uncle Benedick had passed on. She wondered if she should check the dining room; Mattie could be sloppy. She stamped her foot in frustration at her awkward position in Duncan’s house.

She hung a long rope of silver beads around her neck, setting off the deep red silk jumpsuit and silver hoops. She had always regarded that jump suit as casual wear, something in which she lounged in her room. But if he wanted her to wear it, she would. She didn’t like high heels, but wore them anyway as she tripped down the stairs and nearly stumbled when she reached the bottom. Duncan stood nearby, tall and handsome in a dark business suit, talking heatedly with a tall woman whose flawless skin had the color of fresh pecans. She raised her head and started past them.

His arm lightly on her shoulder brought her to a quick halt “Justine, this is my sister, Leah.”

Leah’s knowing look told Justine that Duncan’s sister had noticed her relief that she was his sister and not his date. “Hello, Justine. I’ve been anxious to meet you. Duncan talks about you a lot.”

He looked down at his feet and then toward the living room. “Leah lets anything that comes to her mind drop out of her mouth.”

Leah shrugged a shoulder. “I’m blunt. And nobody calls me Leah. I hate the name. Call me Banks if you want me to answer.”

Justine extended her hand. “I’m happy to meet you, Banks. Duncan hasn’t mentioned having a sister.”

Banks let a rueful smile linger on her face. “I embarrass him, Justine. He’d love to have a dainty, ultra feminine little sister who’s brainless.”

Both of Justine’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you sure? He’s been acting like an egalitarian with me.”

“I’ve known him longer. He thinks I need a total makeover.”

The grin that settled around Duncan’s mouth assured Justine that she shouldn’t take the conversation seriously. Duncan and his sister adored each other.

“I’d be satisfied if she’d quit walking around like a chimney belching bituminous smoke.”

“Grant me my one vice, Duncan. I don’t interfere with yours.” She turned to Justine. “You’d think he’d introduce me to his boss. I’ve been trying for six months to meet that man on square ground when I have the advantage, and my own beloved brother has access to him every day, and won’t get us together. I was just telling him what I thought of him when—”

So that had been their argument! “If he won’t do it, ask somebody else.”

“I asked my girlfriend, Melissa Grant Roundtree, to introduce us, but the opportunity just won’t come.”

“Excuse me while I answer the door,” Duncan said, looking down at Justine’s face. “Be right back.”

Chills snaked down her back. What would she do if he walked back to them with a woman on his arm?

“Wipe the worry off your face, Justine. Duncan doesn’t have a woman. He’s sworn off them for life.”

“Wh…What?”

“Sorry, but I saw right away that you like him. Just be careful. He’s a great guy, but he goes by the title of man, if you know what I mean. And I don’t expect he’s going to expose himself to what he just got out of any time soon.”

“Leah. I mean, Banks, what are you talking about? I’m Tonya’s nanny.”

“Come on back in the kitchen. Duncan won’t let me smoke anywhere else in the house, and Mattie doesn’t mind.” They walked down the long brown and beige tiled hallway to the modern brick-floored kitchen. Banks kissed Mattie on the cheek and lit a cigarette. “I know you’re her nanny,” Banks said softly so that Mattie couldn’t hear, “and we don’t want to get into that yet. If you’re a nanny, Wayne Roundtree’s in love with me, and as far as I know, he’s never met me. Did you answer the ad for nanny or the one for wife?”

I need my wits with this woman, Justine cautioned herself. “Nanny. Is he looking for a wife?”

Banks blew a few smoke rings. “Yeah. For a strictly business deal. Now who’s crazy? Him or me?”

“There you are,” Duncan’s voice boomed. “Wayne, I want you to meet my sister, Leah—the one who’s blowing smoke. And this is Justine Taylor.” Banks quickly rubbed the cigarette against the sole of her left shoe and put it out.

“I’m glad to meet you, Wayne,” Justine said, showing as little interest as possible in the man who was Duncan’s boss and the object of Banks’s affection.

Wayne grinned and winked at Duncan. “Not worth a backward glance, eh?” He took her extended hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Justine.”

She looked from Wayne to Banks, hoping to see a spark of desire in his face and praying that Banks would say the right words.

“Hello, Wayne. It’s a relief to see somebody from home down here among these jaded Washingtonians.”

Wayne appeared suitably impressed, and his low drawl seemed to captivate Banks, who gazed unsteadily at him. “Well, hello. Duncan didn’t tell me he had a sister. Where’ve you been?”

“Mostly in Frederick. I told Melissa I wanted to meet you, but the three of us are never in the same place.”

“Melissa? My sister-in-law? Wait ’til I see her. All she had to do was tell me she had a nice brown, long-stemmed beauty she wanted me to meet. Duncan, what’s the matter with these women?”

“Search me. Justine, you want to come with me and meet some of my buddies?”

At least he had the grace to leave them alone and give Banks a chance. Wayne seemed interested enough, but maybe his joviality was nothing more than courtesy. Duncan’s fingers at her elbow were meant to reassure her, and she didn’t attach any significance to the special attention. If only he wouldn’t watch her like an eagle about to dive for trout while he introduced her to his friends. She’d been properly brought up by aunts with strict codes of behavior, and she knew how to act with people. What did he expect? She opened her mouth to tell him he needn’t fear embarrassment, when it dawned on her that his interest was in another direction: she wasn’t behaving as a servant would, but as Dr. Justine Taylor Montgomery. Too late to repair that damage; she’d have to watch it.

“You don’t drink?” he asked after she declined all that he offered.

“I’ll drink wine with my dinner, but Tonya could wake up any minute, and I don’t want to be tipsy if she needs me.”

He searched her face as though gauging some inscrutable object or investigating the unknown. “What do you usually drink?”

“A glass of white wine.”

“Mr. B,” Mattie yelled. “It’s on.”

He continued to gaze into her eyes. “Dinner’s ready. Will you sit at my right?”

“But Duncan, that’s…I work for you. Surely, you don’t want to give the impression that I’m more than—”

His fingers tightened on her arm. “As long as I’m in my house, I can give any impression I like—provided I don’t offend you. I wouldn’t want to do that. Come with me.”

None of his friends appeared to find it unseemly that Duncan escorted his daughter’s nanny to dinner and gave her a place of honor at the table. She turned to find Duncan’s gaze on her.

Unsure as to how she should deal with his attentiveness, she tried to divert his attention by focusing the conversation on Banks and Wayne. “They seem to have hit it off. If you knew she wanted to meet him, why didn’t you arrange it before now?”

He placed his fork on his plate and leaned back in his chair. “Justine, my sister is as mercurial as a person gets. If Wayne makes one false move with her, she’ll tell him to drop dead. He’s my boss, and he’s also like a brother to me, and I’d as soon not have to tie up with him because of Leah.”

“But she’s enchanted with him and has been for a while.”

“Enchanted or not; if he doesn’t toe the line, she’ll give him the boot, and he won’t get a second chance, sure as my name is Duncan Banks.”

She didn’t like the sound of it. “Does that run in the family?”

“Hardly. I don’t expect perfection from people.”

She let herself breathe more deeply. “What do you expect?”

He leaned toward her and whispered, “Honesty. Weakness, I can understand, but not dishonesty. And whatever you give me, give it with your whole soul, every bit of yourself. I refuse to be anybody else’s guilt or, for that matter, their charitable duty.”

His stricken look told her he’d said more than he had intended, that he hadn’t wanted to reveal so much of himself. She shuddered to think that, of their own volition, her fingers had found his beneath the table and grasped them as though in a gesture of comfort. When she tried to remove her hand, he tightened his grip.

“Look at me, Justine.”

She cast her glance downward and closed her eyes, refusing him, but she was about to learn that he would always stand his ground.

“Justine, if you don’t look at me, I’ll make you do it right here in front of everybody. If you don’t want my mouth on yours right here, open your eyes.”

She had to open them. Not merely because of his threat, but because she needed to see his face. “Don’t complicate this, Duncan. Please leave things as they are. I want to work here, but I can’t if you start something with me. I—”

“Why do you want to work here? And another thing, I can’t start anything with you unless I have your eager cooperation. You’re as safe with me as you would be in the Vatican. And you know it.”

His question, potent with danger, flowed out of him so readily that she knew it hadn’t just occurred to him, that it nagged at him waiting for a chance to be asked. She dodged it and commented on his assurance of her safety.

“Thank you, Duncan, but I have never doubted that you are honorable. It blazes across your countenance like a big red sun just before it sinks beyond the horizon.”

She glanced first at their entwined fingers and then toward the other end of the table where Banks sat with Wayne Roundtree in rapt attention beside her. “Duncan, please give me back my hand.”

His answer was a wide grin, roguish but determined, and she shifted her gaze to find Duncan’s sister watching them intently. She couldn’t help wondering why Banks wouldn’t use the opportunity to gain Wayne’s attention. Instead, the woman’s eyes seemed to pierce her, to scrutinize her insides, and she’d have thought it an act of rudeness if Banks hadn’t suddenly smiled and then turned to Wayne.

When they finished the five course meal and moved to the living room, Justine expected Duncan to circulate among his friends, but he stayed close to her.

His long-lashed reddish-brown eyes seemed to measure her features, as he gazed down at her. “Enjoy the meal?”

She nodded and forced a half-smile. All right, he was honorable, but her nerves still rioted at the thought that he slept across the hall from her and that their bedroom doors didn’t have locks. “Yes. It was wonderful. I had no idea that Mattie could turn out a gourmet meal. I had expected some first class soul food.”

Looking at him, relaxed against the marble fireplace, she didn’t think she’d ever seen a man so comfortable with himself. “Oh, she can cook that, too,” he said, “as well as French or Italian, and always top fare. There’s more to Mattie than those ridiculous wigs. Aperitif?”

“N…No thank you. I’d better run up and check on Tonya.”

With a finger on her arm, he detained her. “I told you. You’re off tonight. I’ll check on her. If you want to get away from me, just say so.”

She looked up quickly, startled. “Why would I want to do that?”

“You’re asking me?” Ice laced his speech. “Look, Justine, I don’t know why I’m pestering you. If you’ll excuse me…”

To her amazement, he half-bowed and left her. What had brought that on? Surely, he wasn’t so thin-skinned.

“What got into him?” Banks asked, her words and delicate spicy perfume announcing her presence.

Justine looked up at Banks, about five-feet-nine, slim, and beautiful. Almost enough like Duncan to be his twin. “You tell me. You’ve known him longer than I have.”

Banks’s tongue poked the lower side of her jaw, a gesture Justine had often seen Duncan make. “He’s bothered about something, and maybe he ought to be.”

Justine had to reach for self-control to avoid reacting to Banks’s cryptic remark. Still, she couldn’t refrain from glaring at Banks. “What do you mean?”

Unperturbed, Banks shrugged with the elaboration of royalty conferring an honor. “Why is an intelligent, well-educated, smart woman like you working as a babysitter? You’re finishing school from your head to your toes, girlfriend, and I bet you never made a bed in your life.”

Taken aback by the woman’s shrewdness and blunt remark, Justine pretended to be unruffled. “Not everybody can judge a book by its cover. Congratulations.”

“Save the sarcasm, Justine. What are you after?”

A sigh eased through her lips before she could stifle it. She lifted her chin in defiance, but thought better of the words about to spill out and decided to bridle her tongue. No point in making an enemy of Duncan’s sister. “I’m trying to make a living while I develop some writing skills. That all right with you?”

Banks sat on the edge of a leather arm chair, leaned forward, and cupped her knees with her hands. “I’ll buy that. For now. If I were you, though, I’d watch it with Duncan. For all that heman front, he’s as tender as Tonya, and I’ll tell you one more thing. Girl, if you ever trip his trigger, you’re in for a full-scale war.”

“Thanks. But why are you telling me this?”

Banks’s raised left eyebrow was meant to question Justine’s intelligence. “You kidding? Deny it all you please, girlfriend, but you want Duncan just about as much as I want Wayne Roundtree. From what I’ve seen, I suspect you’d be good for him. Of course, what I’ve seen also tells me there’s plenty more to you than meets the eye.” At Justine’s barely contained annoyance, she went on, “Don’t mind me. I say what I think. That way you know where you stand with me. Can’t say that for my brother, though. He’s about as open with his thoughts as a deaf mute; by the time you figure it out, your name is Mudd.” Wayne joined them and saved Justine a rejoinder.

“Are you headed back to Frederick tonight, Leah?”

Justine could barely refrain from grinning when Banks pulled air through her teeth and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Wayne, we aren’t going to get anywhere if you insist on calling me Leah. My name is Banks.”

“Get real, Leah. I can’t call you Banks; that’s what I call your brother.”

“Then call him Duncan,” she huffed. “He loves his name. I can’t stand mine.”

“It’s a lovely name, and I like it. Brings to my mind a graceful swan, long-necked and elegant, as you are,” Wayne said, and Justine thought of telling Banks that Wayne Roundtree wouldn’t be browbeaten. “I repeat, going to Frederick?”

“I have to,” she mumbled, in a manner that suggested she wasn’t pleased with him. “I’m working tomorrow.” She bunched her shoulders. “Duncan would love it if you drove me. Save him the long trip tonight.”

Wayne raised up to his full height of six feet, three inches and bestowed a cool smile on Banks. “Leah, I don’t give two hoots what Duncan would love, and I’m not trying to save him a trip anywhere. I want to know what you would like. Do I drive you?”

“That would be nice,” she said in a barely audible voice.

Justine left them to settle the matter and slipped upstairs to look in on Tonya. All evening, she’d longed to sit beside the child’s bed and watch her sleep, to be there for her when she woke up and see her smile of recognition. Torn between the desire to nurture Duncan’s interest into a living, permanent emotion and the need to preserve her status as Tonya’s nanny, she’d needed reassurance of Tonya’s affection—the one thing that could fill her life forever. Her heart pounded in joyous rhythm as she gazed down at the sleeping child.

“She’s asleep.”

The sound of his deep, velvety voice sent tremors of excitement ricocheting through her body. “I know. I just thought I’d check.” She cut a wide swath around him, avoiding his eyes as she did so, rushed to her room, and closed the door. She’d never been afraid of relationships, had always delighted in exploring them, game for new experiences. And then Kenneth deceived her. She squeezed her fists tight, fighting to shut out the gnawing sounds of the past, to live in the present, grab whatever happiness came her way and hang onto it.

The stench of the burning rubble, the gutted remains of the Sutton Motel in Falls Church, Virginia and the sight of the black plastic bags tied to gurneys that passed within inches of her came back to her, bridging time, and she was there again. She hadn’t known that she cried out until her door sprang open and Duncan Banks had her in his arms.

“What is it? Why are you shaking so? Justine, honey, tell me what’s the matter.” She had to pull herself together, to reclaim her dignity. She couldn’t let him see her shattered this way. He held her closer in an unmistakable caress, and she wanted to luxuriate in the warmth of his embrace, but her relationship with her child was at stake. She rested her head on his shoulder for a second, lolling in what might have been, and then moved away.

“I’m sorry if I alarmed you, Duncan, but I’m all right now.”

He wasn’t easily pacified. “You don’t get off that simply, Justine, and if you had heard the terror in your voice, you wouldn’t blame me for insisting. What happened to you?”

She didn’t question his right to an explanation, but she couldn’t tell all. “You’re right. It was the sudden memory of a terrible tragedy, so fresh and so real. I…I suppose I forgot where I was.”

“And you’re not going to tell me about it, are you?”

Still shaken, she had to control her voice, lest it tremble.

“Some day, perhaps, if our relationship warrants it. For now, you’ll have to trust me, Duncan. I promise I haven’t committed any crimes, and I have no unpaid debts. You don’t have to worry about my character.”

His grim expression belied his words. “I don’t question your good character, Justine. To mimic you, you wear it wrapped around you like a bold spring breeze. If you’re all right, I’ll leave you. But if you need me…” He let it hang.

She couldn’t face the merrymakers downstairs, so she’d get Banks’s phone number and apologize for not saying good night. She got ready for bed and faced a welcomed fact. That scream was at last a physical reaction to the pain of that morning in Falls Church, Virginia. She still hadn’t cried.

Duncan walked down the stairs with heavy, burdened steps. He’d waste a lot of time if he tried guessing what could have been so horrible that its memory wrung such a terror-stricken scream from Justine. He ought to be grateful that it happened, because he needed a reminder that he didn’t know Justine Taylor. Yet, it was no use denying his strong attraction to her. When he’d held her in his arms upstairs there, he’d felt her pain, and he knew the danger that presaged. A man was headed for trouble when his gut reaction to a woman was to protect her, and he’d wanted to shield Justine from whatever demons haunted and hurt her. He paused on the bottom step, unwilling to break his thoughts and join his friends. Maybe he’d take his annual hunting trip early. Justine was as capable of taking care of Tonya as he was. When he got back home, she’d be out of his system.

He pulled air through his teeth in disgust at himself. He had to straighten out his head. If she had so much as raised her face and looked at him or put her hands near his shoulders, he’d have taken her mouth, the consequences be damned. And that didn’t make a shred of sense. He glanced up at Wayne Roundtree and his baby sister heading for the front door.

“You don’t want me to drive you home, Leah?”

“Wayne’s gonna drop me off on his way to Beaver Ridge.”

He didn’t suppose it was funny; nothing amused him right then. But he couldn’t help enjoying Wayne’s apparent discomfort—until the man reprimanded Banks, “I’m not dropping you off; I’m taking you home. You said you’d like that, and that’s what I’m doing.”

She was about to learn that Roundtrees didn’t let people jerk them around, and the lesson might do her some good. Still…Duncan ignored Wayne’s scowl. “If you want me to take you, Leah, it’s no sweat.” He didn’t laugh when Wayne glared at him, though maintaining a straight face took some mental discipline.

“What do you want?” Wayne asked her, his voice tinged with vexation and his stance just short of predatory.

Banks’s sheepish grin settled it for Duncan even before she said, “He can take me home.” Wayne Roundtree had her number, but it didn’t surprise him when she took care not to get too far out of character and added, “You trust him, don’t you, Duncan?”

A belly laugh rolled out of him. Trust his sister to squeeze the humor out of a situation. “Make him stick to the speed limit, Sis. Wayne drives like a bat out of hell.”

“I’ll open that door,” Wayne said when Banks reached the car.

She shifted her weight to her left foot and let fly with, “Something wrong with my hands?”

She resisted squirming when he stopped inches from her, looked down into her face and said, “No. The problem lies elsewhere. And that’s something you and I are going to get straight before I move this car.”

Tough, was he? “Hmmm. Maybe I’d better tell Duncan he has to take me home after all.”

His hand on her elbow said he meant business. Fine with her. “Leah, I don’t care for this constant stream of sarcasm and cynicism. I’m with you because I want to be, and I assume the same goes for you. But if you’d rather be somewhere else, say the word and we won’t start this. What’ll it be?”

She wished she could see his eyes a little better and figure out what he thought, and she’d give anything to know how to talk to him. She opened her mouth to tell him he couldn’t always have his likes, remembered how long and how badly she’d wanted to be with him, and said, instead, “Are you always so cut and dried?”

“Not usually, but your constant challenges bring out a side of me that I’m not familiar with. Think you can mellow a little?”

“I…I thought I was.”

He helped her into the sleek, maroon-colored Town Car, seated himself, and started the engine. “Do you want us to spend time together?”

Playing it safe, was he? She bristled. “Wayne, I’m not an authority on boy-girl behavior these days, but I think if you want us to see each other, you have to ask.”

He glanced her way briefly before accelerating onto the capital Beltway. “Okay. Okay. Will you spend time with me? I’d like to get to know you.”

He was asking her out. Everything inside of her started swimming, and she grasped her forehead as though to quell an attack of vertigo. Only air came out of her mouth when she parted her lips to speak.

“Well? You turning me down? I though you said you’d wanted to meet me. If I’ve bombed this fast with you, I’m in trouble.”

She grabbed her middle when he zipped into Route 270 and nearly panicked when words still wouldn’t come. In desperation, she placed a tentative hand on his knee and risked a gentle pat. The man had tied her into knots; she’d never been speechless in her life.

He glanced down at her hand resting on his knee. “What does that mean?”

“I…I think you’re nice, Wayne, and we can go out sometime.”

He rested his hand on hers. “On a steady basis?”

Just because the man was wonderful wasn’t a reason to chuck her common sense. “Well, let’s see if that’s what we want. Okay?”

“Works for me.”

They reached Frederick well before driving at the legal speed limit would have allowed. When Wayne parked in front of the white brick house at 75 North Teal, she breathed in sweet relief. “Thanks for the ride home. See you soon.”

He took her hand and walked toward the front door. “I assume you don’t live out here on Teal Street. Let me have your keys.” He unlocked the door with his free hand and walked with her into the darkened foyer. “I’m glad we met. Goodnight, Leah.”

She jerked her hand from his. “I told you not to call me—” His mouth warm and firm settled on hers and scrambled her brain, and she grabbed the lapels of his jacket to steady herself. She’d never felt anything like it. Shivers coursed through her body until she trembled in his arms.

He broke the kiss and gazed down at her as though in wonder. “Is there a guy in your life? Serious, I mean?”

She blinked her eyes. “Why’d you do that? You caught me off guard.”

She luxuriated in his grin, its warmth toasting her like midday sunshine on a deserted beach. “If I’d asked you, I’d never have gotten that kiss, and especially not one that honest. And I’m calling you Leah. Period. Get that?”

He was out of the door before she could tell him he’d be talking to the wind, because she’d refuse to answer him. She lit a cigarette with shaking fingers and made up for lost time.

Duncan told the last of his guests good night, extinguished the lights, and headed upstairs. The light shining beneath Justine’s door caused him some concern, and he left his bedroom door ajar so he could hear her if she called out to him. He stripped and slid into bed. Justine was across the hall from him, crying for all he knew, since she hadn’t come back downstairs, and he was helpless to do anything about it, because she hadn’t trusted him. Then there was Wayne Roundtree and his kid sister. Kid? She was twenty-seven. He hoped the man had sense enough to realize that she was a tenderfoot, that she hid her innocence behind her sharp tongue. He flipped over on his belly. He’d hate to flatten his boss, but he’d do it in a New York minute and wouldn’t think twice about it.

Across the hall, Justine struggled with her reaction to Duncan’s almost kiss. She had wanted it. She rolled over to untangle the sheet twisted around her body. Her unloved body. Behind closed eyelids she saw his lips moving toward hers, slowly. Teasing. Tantalizing her. She parted her lips for the taste of his hot velvet tongue and moaned in despair when it failed to penetrate her welcoming mouth. When her breasts began to ache for his stroking fingers, she swung out of bed, took off her gown and showered. She didn’t fool herself. Duncan wasn’t the only source of her discontent, nor could she attribute it to celibacy, for she’d never been fulfilled. The certainty that she’d never been loved, that her failure at lovemaking with her husband wasn’t her fault, had triggered in her a need to explore herself, to fly. Because Kenneth Montgomery hadn’t loved her, his heart hadn’t been in his lovemaking. She knew that now. And sleeping within fifteen feet of her every night was the epitome of temptation in the person of Duncan Banks, a good-looking, mesmerizing, and powerful hunk of a man who wanted her and whose lure beckoned her. Torment was right here on earth.