Читать книгу Love Me or Leave Me - Gwynne Forster, Gwynne Forster - Страница 8

Pamela finished whipping a hem in her evening dress, slipped it on and examined herself in the mirror that covered the inside of a closet door. Burnt orange was her best color, and she wore it often. “I look great,” she said, and pulled air through her front teeth. “But what for? I don’t give a hoot about anybody who’s going to be at that reception.” Given the choice, she would have stayed at home. However, she didn’t have that option where a reception given by her boss was concerned, so she put on her mink coat, got the black satin evening bag that matched her shoes and went down to the apartment-building lobby.

“Could you call a taxi for me, please, Mike?”

“My pleasure, Miss Langford. I hope you’re meeting a fine young man. In my day, a lady such as yourself wouldn’t be alone for long.” He switched on the call light. “If you don’t mind my saying so, Miss Langford, I was hoping to see more of that gentleman—Harrington is his name, I believe he said. I’ve lived a long time, and I know a man when I see one. He’s just what I’d want for my daughter if I had been fortunate enough to have one.”

The taxi arrived, and she thanked Mike, her favorite among the doormen who worked at her building. The short, fifteen-minute ride took her to the Sheraton and as she paid the driver, he turned, looked at her and said, “Some guy sure is lucky.”

“If you only knew,” she said as she stepped out, careful not to get her shoe heel caught in the hem of her dress.

“What? What did you say?”

She walked on without answering, and to her disgust, Lawrence met her at the door of the reception room. She knew at once that he’d waited there to give the impression that she was his date. Without a word, she swung around and went to the other entrance, which meant she would skip the receiving line, but she didn’t care. Immediately, she spotted Jack Hanson, her boss, and his wife and walked over to where they stood. Within less than a minute, Lawrence was at her side.

Seething, she knocked his hand away from her elbow. “Lawrence, I skipped the receiving line in order to avoid you, and I would appreciate it if you would stay away from me. If you don’t, I’ll make a scene.”

“Lovers’ spat,” he said to the couple.

“How dare you! You have never had your hands on me, and you know it. Furthermore, you never will. Not even if you were the only man on this earth.” She looked at her boss. “I’m sorry if this has spoiled your evening, but it’s what I have to tolerate in the office every day. Please excuse me.” She went to speak to her host, left the reception and went home.

As she entered her apartment, the telephone rang. “Hello.”

“Hi, this is Rhoda. I saw you leaving the reception as I was arriving. Are you all right?”

“My health is fine, but Lawrence tried to give the impression that we’re an item—even told Hanson and his wife that we were having a lovers’ spat. I’ve been in a rage ever since.”

“The pig! You didn’t let him get away with it, did you?”

“Of course not, but I was too mad to be sociable, so I left. You have a good time.”

“Thanks. So far, I’m bored to death.”

She undressed, crawled into bed and attempted to banish the images that frolicked around in her head. Images of her with Drake on a small, fast boat in the Monocacy River near Frederick, the way he loved the speed, his face alive with childlike joy. Images of Drake with her on the previous Christmas morning in Eagle Park as they stood just outside the front door of Harrington House looking at six feet of pristine snow. He had squeezed her hand, kissed the tip of her nose and told her how much he loved snow.

“Surely the Lord wouldn’t dangle that man in front of me just to tease me,” she said aloud. When sleep finally came, she had been exhausted for a long time.

The following evening, Wednesday, the day after his return from Ghana, Drake met Lawrence—a former school-mate—at an alumni meeting in Baltimore. As usual, Drake greeted him cordially.

“How’s it going, man?” Drake asked.

“Couldn’t be better. I’m seeing Pamela Langford these days. Man, she stood up a dinner date in order to see a movie with me. We’re getting pretty tight.”

He hoped the sharp pain in his chest didn’t signal the onset of a heart attack. However, he put a half smile of casual interest on his face and said, “Really. When was that?”

“Last Friday night. We’re together, man.”

He let the smile freeze on his face, patted Lawrence on the back and said, “Way to go, man.”

He had no reason to disbelieve him. After all, she hadn’t bothered to tell him that she couldn’t make their date or to use her cell phone to let him know she had a last-minute emergency. He shook his head from side to side, acknowledging that it strained his credulity to believe she would callously leave him sitting in a restaurant waiting for her for almost two hours. It was unlike her. He left the meeting, went to Russ’s apartment—where he would spend the night—and turned on the local evening news.

“Good evening. I’m Pamela Langford, and this is WRLR Evening News.”

That bottom lip of hers always tantalized him, and on that night, it seemed more luscious than ever. He caught himself as his tongue rimmed his lips, and he slid farther down in the big, overstuffed chair in Russ’s living room. Lord, but this woman is beautiful. He wondered if she’d be stupid enough to develop an affair with a coworker, and when Russ came home, he told him what Lawrence said.

“I guess I don’t know her,” he said. “I wouldn’t have thought she’d do a thing like that.”

Russ dropped himself on the sofa. “Maybe she didn’t. Why would he tell you that? Sounds suspicious to me, and if you weren’t annoyed with her, you’d find that story suspect. Anyhow, every suspect deserves a hearing before he’s sentenced. You ought to ask her what happened that evening. As unhappy as she was when I saw her, I wouldn’t think she’d just begun a relationship with a man. That would make a person sparkle, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah. I should think it would. If I find out that Lawrence lied about Pamela, I’ll— Oh, hell! I’ll call her.”

Pamela packed her briefcase, knowing that she wasn’t in a mood to work after she got home, but what else was there to do? With her three-quarter-length leather coat on her arm, she headed for the elevator, and as she reached it, saw Lawrence approaching her.

“Lawrence, if you say one word to me or touch me, I will get an order of restraint against you for harassment. What you did last night was unconscionable. No decent man would have done what you did. Now, please move aside.”

“Look, I was just—”

“You are harassing me.”

She stepped into the elevator, pushed the button and prayed that he wouldn’t trail her to the basement garage where she’d left her car. Relieved that he didn’t follow her, she put on an Aretha Franklin CD and sang along with the diva as she drove, her spirits livelier than at any time since she’d missed her date with Drake.

At home, she warmed up the remainder of the previous evening’s lasagna, made a salad and sat down to eat her supper. The telephone rang as she chewed the last morsel of it, and she debated whether to answer it, thinking that Lawrence might call her at home. However, the identity of the caller aroused her curiosity and she answered.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Pamela. This is Drake.”

At the sound of his deep, mellifluous voice, her left hand slammed against her chest as if to decelerate the beating of her heart, and she let the wall take her weight.

“Hello, Drake,” she said, as coolly as if her head wasn’t spinning and her heart was beating normally. It was his call, and she wasn’t going to make small talk. She waited for him to tell her why he’d called.

“I’m not satisfied with the way things are right now,” he said. “I’m in Baltimore, and I’d like us to have lunch tomorrow, if you can make the time. I’m going home to Eagle Park later in the afternoon.”

Hmm. Cut-and-dried, as usual. She didn’t believe in being coy, and besides, she wanted to know why he hadn’t returned her calls to his home and to his cellular phone.

“All right. Can we lunch at about twelve-thirty, and would you come by my office for me?”

“Uh… Sure. Be glad to. I’ll see you at twelve-thirty.” She wondered at his seeming hesitation.

“I’ll be ready. My office is on the ninth floor. See you then.”

Again, he seemed to hesitate. “Right. Till tomorrow.”

For a while, she stared at the receiver that she still gripped tightly. Then, like a robot performing a programmed task, she hung up in slow motion. If she had ever had a more unsatisfying conversation with a man, she didn’t remember it. Oh, well. By this time tomorrow, I will know where I stand with Drake Harrington.

She dressed carefully that morning, choosing a burnt-orange woolen suit with a beige blouse and brown accessories. She rarely wore makeup at work, but she did so that morning, settling for lipstick the color of her suit, and though she longed to wear her hair down, she put it into the French twist that she wore at work and on the air. Along with her makeup-repair bag, she put a vial of Poem, her daytime perfume, in her briefcase, said a prayer for the day and headed for work.

She tried to prepare herself for the moment when she would see him. He’s not the be-all and end-all, and if he fades out of my life, someone else will move in, she told herself. However, when her secretary announced him and she heard his light tap on her door, she swung around, hitting her knee on the edge of her desk and sending pain shooting through it.

“Come in,” she managed to say.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

They stared at each other until he laughed—whether from nervousness or embarrassment, she couldn’t tell. He had always been most handsome when he laughed, and she sat there, mesmerized and as still as a catatonic.

“We’re behaving like strangers,” he said, walked over to her, bent down and brushed his lips across hers. Her lips parted involuntarily, and he straightened up and stared down at her, his face devoid of expression.

“I guess we’d better go,” he said at last. “Where’s your coat?”

“I’ll get it. Are we driving or walking?”

“I thought we’d walk to Lou’s Ristorante. The weather’s reasonably mild. Okay with you?”

“Fine. I like Lou’s.”

Her door swung open. “Don’t get uptight. This is about… Oh!”

“What is it, Lawrence?”

“Uh…nothing. I can…er…come back later.”

“Excuse me, man,” Drake said. “I don’t want to interfere with your romance. I can come back later.”

She whirled around and glared at Drake. “You don’t want to what? Where the devil did you get that idea? There’s not a damned thing between this man and me, and if he doesn’t stop harassing me and lying about me, I am going to have him arrested.”

Lawrence backed toward the door. “I’ll…uh, see you later.”

“Not so fast, buddy,” Drake said in a tone that would have halted the toughest street habitué. “Did you lie to me? You told me that you have a relationship going with Pamela, and that she stood up her dinner date in order to go to a movie with you. How did you know she was meeting me for dinner?”

Her lower lip dropped, but she quickly restored her aplomb. “Give me one reason, Lawrence, why I shouldn’t indict you for lying about me. This isn’t the only time you’ve done it.”

“Look,” he said, hands up and palms out, “you can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“No,” Drake said, his facial expression stern and harsh, “but you can blame him for not having any integrity.” He turned to Pamela. “We’d better be going. If you have any more difficulties with this fellow, report him to the police. After you,” he said to Lawrence, effectively ordering him out of the office.

“When did Lawrence tell you that?” she asked Drake after they seated themselves in the restaurant and gave the waiter their orders.

“When I saw him last evening at an alumni meeting. Both of us attended graduate school at the University of Maryland. He worked on the campus paper. How did he know you were having dinner with me?”

“He asked me for a date, as he frequently does though I’ve yet to say yes, and I said I had a dinner engagement. I suppose he’s seen us together and assumed I was meeting you.”

He leaned back. “Right. What happened to you, and why didn’t you call me?”

“I stopped at that filling station just before you turn into Milford, got an oil change, my front and rearview windows washed, and my tires checked. A few minutes after I turned off the highway, both of my front tires blew out. Fortunately, I was on that ramp, so I wasn’t driving fast. I walked the two miles back to the station, and—”

“Why didn’t you use your cell phone and call me? I would have gone there and helped you.”

Her right shoulder flexed in an automatic shrug. “I forgot it and left it on the desk in my office. When I got to the restaurant, you’d left, and the maître d’ implied that I had bad manners for having stood you up. I called your home from a pay phone in the restaurant, but you weren’t there. Henry took the message.”

“I haven’t been home since then, so he hasn’t seen me.”

When both of her eyebrows shot up, he explained. “I stayed in Baltimore that night with Russ and left for Ghana the next morning. I got back Tuesday night. Incidentally, did you ask the station attendant to check your tires to see what happened?”

She nodded. “He said someone slashed them, probably while he and I were inside the station straightening out my bill. He said a yellow Cadillac drove up, but when he went back outside, it had left, and the driver didn’t make a purchase.”

His fingers moved back and forth across his chin in the manner of one deep in thought. “Sooner or later, you’ll know who did it. A yellow Caddy is hard to hide.”

She fidgeted beneath his direct gaze, uncomfortable because of her reaction to him, but also because she couldn’t fathom his demeanor.

“What is it, Drake?”

“You’re so beautiful. I watched you on television last night and, well…all that polish and intelligence in such a beautiful package.”

She could say the same about him, but she didn’t because she knew he wouldn’t like it. He had made it clear on a number of occasions and in several situations that he wanted to be accepted for himself. “I can’t take credit for the way I look. That’s a genetic accident,” he once told a matronly hostess, “but I gladly take responsibility for the man I am.”

“Last night, you said you weren’t satisfied with the way things are. I want you to clarify that.”

“We were estranged, out of touch.” He leaned forward, reached across the table and took her hand, sending shivers of apprehension through her system. “Last Friday night, I had planned to ask you to allow us to step back from where we seemed to be headed.” She lowered her gaze so that he wouldn’t be able to discern her feelings. “I dream of becoming nationally recognized in my profession, and I’m so far from that goal. Oh, I know Harrington, Inc. is well thought of in this part of the country, but I want more than that. I want to take chances, do original work, set the pace the way the engineers who worked with Frank Lloyd Wright did, and I can’t do that unless I’m traveling alone. When I was away from here, in Ghana, I couldn’t remember why I wanted some breathing space between us. I’m not even sure now if that’s what I want.

“When I was watching you on TV last night, it certainly wasn’t what I wanted, and it isn’t what I want right now. But I’m thirty-one years old, and I’m not ready to settle down.”

“I don’t remember having asked you to settle down with me.”

“This is true, but I’ve thought about it. A lot, in fact. I don’t mislead women, and I don’t play relationship games with them.”

“Is there another woman you’d like to get to know or that you prefer?”

“Of course not. If there was, I would have told you. I am also not having this conversation with any other woman.”

She looked at him, wondering if he knew he’d just told her that of all the women he knew and associated with, she was the one to whom he was closest. He may want breathing space, but she didn’t. Still, a relationship with a man who didn’t want to settle down was not in her best interest. “Drake, I’m thirty years old, and if I’m ever going to have any children I have to get started soon. Thirty is already old to have a first child.”

“I’m aware of that, and it may account for my need to be direct with you.” His fingers plowed through his hair. “But I’m not saying I’ll be happy to break this off. I definitely won’t, but I have to be straight with you.”

She patted his hand and forced a smile. “Come on. I have to get back to work. If I need an escort that will knock ’em dead, I’ll phone you.”

With cobralike swiftness, he grabbed her left wrist. “That wasn’t called for. I don’t squire women around. If you needed to strike out at me, that was as good a way as any.” He stood and walked around to her side of the table to move her chair. She took her time getting up because he was standing there and she’d be inches from him. As she expected, he didn’t move when she stood, but stared down into her face, his own ablaze with passion. Lost in the moment, she rimmed her lips with her tongue, knowing that she’d fastened her gaze on his mouth, on that firm masculine mouth that with the barest touch could singe her with desire. She closed her eyes, but quickly opened them when his fingers encircled her arm.

“Come on,” he whispered. “Let’s get out of here.”

They walked back to the TV station without speaking, each deep in thought. Half a block from the building, his hand captured hers and squeezed her fingers.

“A man doesn’t ask if he can have his cake and eat it, too. He makes a choice, and I thought I’d done that.” At the entrance to the building, he leaned forward, kissed her briefly on the mouth and gazed down at her for a full minute before saying, “I’ll be in touch.”

She tripped to the elevator with a spring in her steps. Oh, she wanted to fly through the air like a prima ballerina, free and unfettered. He could say what he liked and tell himself all the tales he wanted to, but he wasn’t ready to break off their relationship, and she wasn’t going to do anything that would encourage him to. She meant a lot more to him than he was willing to admit. But he’d better hurry up. I want him, but not badly enough to sacrifice motherhood.

Before she could sit down and begin work, Rhoda knocked and walked into her office. “I know you’re busy, but I’m not leaving here till you tell me who that hunk was who kissed you right in front of the door here. Talk about moving from the ridiculous to the sublime. Whew!”

Rhoda’s raving over Drake annoyed her, and she wasn’t sure why. She liked Rhoda and found her work more than satisfactory, but the remark and the question were out of place. Better not leave any doubt in the woman’s mind. She leaned back in the swivel desk chair and looked Rhoda in the eye. “Since you’re aware that he kissed me on the mouth, you don’t need to know who he is.”

“Whoa. Like that, is it? Well ’scuse me. Girl, you know how to pick ’em.”

“If I recall correctly,” she said, intent on imprinting in the woman’s mind the fact that Drake sought her and not vice versa, “I was working a building industry conference at the convention center on Camden Street, and he walked up to me, introduced himself and asked if I’d have lunch with him. Looks like he picked me, doesn’t it.”

“Oops! Touchy subject. I’d better get back to work. See you later.”

Pamela got busy writing her evening report. She had fought hard and long for the privilege of writing her own copy, and she spared no effort to make it complete, informative and interesting. The messenger knocked, walked in and handed her a press release entitled “Breaking News.” She thanked him, looked it over and wrote a quick summary that she would read at the beginning of her report, provided she didn’t get any more breaking-news releases.

“May I see you a minute, Langford?”

“Be right there,” she said to Raynor, her managing editor, and made a note of what she’d been thinking when the intercom barked at her. She headed down the hall to what she assumed was a conference call. Instead, she learned that Lawrence Parker had been transferred to the seven-to-nine morning news show.

“There’ll be no reason for him to contact you in the line of work. I apologize for his crude behavior, and I hope he’s learned a lesson.”

She thanked the man, but didn’t expect that Lawrence Parker had undergone a metamorphosis; he was lacking in too many important respects. By five o’clock, she had her report in order.

“No calls, please,” she said to her secretary. “I’m testing my copy, and I don’t want to be disturbed.”

“All right, Ms. Langford. I’ll take your messages.”

After her newscast, she headed for her office and looked through her messages. Well, what can I expect? she thought, crestfallen when she didn’t find one from Drake. She packed the briefcase, made a note as to what she had to do when she arrived at work Monday morning and headed home. Her cell phone rang as she drove out of the garage. She turned the corner, stopped and answered it. She didn’t talk on the phone while driving.

“Hello.”

“Hello, Pamela, this is Drake. Feel like a movie tomorrow evening? Or if not that, dinner?”

Oh, my Lord, she said to herself. Am I going to fold up every time I hear his voice unexpectedly?

“I’d love dinner, but I haven’t seen a movie in ages. What do you want to see?”

“You may think this is foolish, but there’s an old movie that I’m nuts about, ’cause it’s funny. It’s The Russians Are Coming, The Russians Are Coming. It was made during the Cold War, and it’s hilarious. We could have dinner and make the nine-o’clock show. Interested?”

“Yes, indeed. Where’s the movie?”

“In Baltimore. I’ll pick you up around five-thirty. All right?”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

“So will I. Bye.”

She hung up, put the car in Drive and went home. For a man who needed breathing space, he seemed bent on suffocating himself.

Pamela couldn’t have been further from the truth. Drake accorded himself the right to be certain of his moves, and if that meant exposing himself to his mounting passion, so be it. If he could have his dreams and her as well, he wanted to know it. But if he had to choose, not only did he need to know that, but he also had to be certain of his choice.

“How about a game of darts?” his brother Telford asked, joining him in the den. “I could use some activity that will take my mind off those Florence Griffith Joyner Houses.”

“Yeah. One of these days, we ought to work at getting a mobile crew. As long as we have to hire construction crews in whatever city or country we’re building in, we’ll have problems. Speaking of problems, how’d you like to take on a real one?”

He knew Telford, the builder for Harrington, Inc., loved a challenge, but he wasn’t certain that even Telford could overcome the problems he envisaged in building a shopping mall in Accra. He told his brother about the project he discussed while in Accra attending his friend’s wedding.

“But if you think Barbados posed a problem, you ought to see what you’d be up against in Ghana. The weather saps all of your energy. I don’t see how a man can work day after day in that heat and humidity.”

“What about a split shift…early mornings and late evenings?” Telford asked him.

“Yeah. Right. Just in time for sandflies and mosquitoes. Besides, you have the heat till the sun goes down, and then it’s immediately dark.”

“Let’s see what Russ has to say about it. He might enjoy designing a shopping mall for a tropical country.”

Drake heaved himself from the comfort of the deep, overstuffed leather chair and allowed himself a restorative yawn. “Maybe, but I’m not sure I’d enjoy engineering it. See you later.”

“Wait a minute,” Telford said, rising to face his youngest brother. “Russ said something had gone awry with you and Pamela. This probably won’t impress you one bit, but I like her a lot—all of us do. Not even Henry has anything negative to say about her.”

“’Course not. She sang his favorite song to him. Look, brother, I’m feeling my way, here. She wants a family and she’s already thirty. I’m thirty-one, and I haven’t proved anything to myself. I’m not sure I’d be happy giving her up, but what about my goals?”

“You’ll reach those. No doubt about it in my mind. But if you get to the top, and you’re there all alone, who will you enjoy it with? Who will you share it with? Alexander the Great conquered the world and wept because there was nothing left to conquer.”

“Point taken. But you waited until you were thirty-six, and Russ is getting married at thirty-four. What does anybody want from me? I’m behaving in true Harrington fashion.” Laughter bubbled up in his throat. “It may not be up to me. Every man can see what I can see.”

Telford’s right eyebrow shot up. “If you thought she’d drop you, you wouldn’t be so sanguine about it.”

“Well, I’m not that sure of her either, which is why I’m seeing her tomorrow night.”

“Yeah? Way to go. See you later. Say, what about the darts?” Telford called after him.

“Give me a few minutes. I’ll meet you in the game room.”

Telford and Russ had found women who were perfect for them and who loved them. Would he be as fortunate? He met Alexis, his sister-in-law, on the stairs, and her hand on his arm detained him.

“What’s the matter? You seem perplexed. What can I do to help?”

“I don’t know if you can. I don’t like being caught up in the tide and being swept along as if I have no control over my life.”

Her smile, at once motherly and wistful, reassured him, as it always did. “You only have to do what you want to do. Other people’s dreams for you are their dreams and plans, not yours. You can love the adviser and still ignore the advice. Get the message?”

“You bet I do. Will Russ be here for dinner?”

“No. He and Velma are coming in tomorrow afternoon.”

“Too bad. I wanted the three of us to discuss that Ghana project. Maybe we can do that Sunday morning.”

“Good idea. Bring Pamela with you.”

He continued up the stairs. “I can ask her.”

“Eoow! Uncle Drake!” Tara ran to him with open arms. “I missed you, and when my dad said you’d be back today, I was so happy.”

He picked her up and swung her around while she giggled in delight. “How’s my best girl?”

“I have a lot to tell you. My dad said it’s time for me to get another music teacher, and Mr. Henry wants to buy me a grand piano. The trouble is we would have to put it in the living room, and I would get on everybody’s nerves practicing.”

“We could put it downstairs in the game room.”

“I dunno. Maybe you can tell my mommy you want to play darts in the game room, you and Uncle Russ, and she won’t put it there.”

“Well, sometimes it’s damp downstairs, and I imagine that’s bad for a piano.”

She clapped her hands. “Really? Think up some more bad things about downstairs. I want to put the piano in my room.”

He put her down. A six-year-old con artist, and as frank about it as a fashion model on a runway.

He went to his room, closed the door and walked over to the window. “I’ve been looking at this scene for all of my life. Maybe if I did as Russ did, if I left and went on my own, I’d see my life more clearly. I don’t think I’m reaching too high by wanting career recognition, but when I get it, I want to share it with someone extra special.” He thrust his hands in his trouser pockets and slouched against the window frame. As he watched, birds flittered among the several feeders Alexis kept laden with bird food, took their fill and then flew away.

He planned to learn to fly, and he didn’t like keeping secrets from his family. But he knew that, out of concern for his safety, they would discourage him, so he decided to tell them when it was a fait accompli. He stretched out on the bed and let his mind travel over his life since Alexis and Tara entered it, recalling the many ways in which the little girl brightened his life, and accepting that having Alexis among them enriched their lives. He got up, put on a pair of sneakers and went down to the game room where Telford and Tara awaited him.

“Dad, Uncle Drake said it’s damp down here and that’s not good for a piano.”

Telford hunkered in front of the child. “Getting your troops together, eh? Well, your mother and I have decided that it’s going into the den, and Henry said that’s fine. I want you to stop trying to snow people to get your way. Use your charm sparingly.”

Tara looked up at Drake. “Do you know what that means, Uncle Drake?”

“Yeah, but don’t worry. Just be yourself.”

Having gotten assurance that the piano would not be in the basement, Tara raced up the stairs to tell Henry. Telford looked at Drake with a narrowed right eye. “The chance that she’ll have your personality is nearly one hundred percent. Let’s hope she’s lucky enough to have your common sense to go along with her alluring ways.”

He could feel the grin forming around his lips and spreading all over his face. “Thanks for the compliment. It may surprise you to know that it came at a good time.”

Telford selected a dart, aimed it and missed the bull’s-eye. “Why did you need your ego massaged?”

“I didn’t, but you wouldn’t tell me I have common sense if you didn’t mean it, and I’m questioning that these days.”

Telford walked over to the long brown leather sofa, sat down and patted the place beside him. “Pamela?”

“Right.”

“You don’t have to make up your mind about anything today, do you? It isn’t as if she’s pregnant.”

Drake’s eyes widened. “Heavens, no. We’ve never been intimate. I’ve avoided that, because I know she thinks a lot of me. And since I don’t know where I’m headed with her, I try not to do anything that she’d be sorry for.”

A half laugh that sounded like a hiccup eased out of Telford’s throat. “She may be sorry if you break up and nothing’s happened. Better to love and lose than never to love at all, or something like that.”

“She’s a very special person, Telford, and—”

Telford interrupted him. “And she’s beautiful, soft, intelligent and fun. Need I say more?”

Drake sat forward, rested his elbows on his thighs and supported his chin with both hands. “When did you know you loved Alexis so much that you wanted to marry her?”

“I knew I wanted her the minute I saw her. In fact, I think I fell for her on sight, and I knew it was mutual. At first, I fought it, but every day that hook sank deeper. The first time I had her in my arms, I knew I’d never get her out of my system. She’s the one who slowed the relationship. Not me. When we were in Cape May, she, Tara and I had adjoining rooms, and we did everything as a family. It was the happiest time of my life up to then. I knew then that I would marry her if she’d let me. Tara wanted us to continue to live that way here at Harrington House, but of course it wasn’t possible until we married.”

“I knew the two of you hit it off immediately and that she was right for you. How do you feel about impending fatherhood?”

“I’m already a father, and I have been ever since I met Tara. Alexis wants a boy, and I hope we get what she wants, but I don’t care as long as we have another healthy, happy child. If you’re lucky enough and smart enough to choose the right woman, you’ll be a changed man and happier for it.”

Drake patted Telford on the shoulder and got up. “I think I’ll go see what Henry’s doing.”

“Henry and Tara were supposed to go to Frederick to look at grand pianos. Alexis is cooking dinner.”

“How’s Tara’s piano playing?”

“Fantastic. That’s why I’m sending her to a professional teacher.”

“See you later.” He dashed up the stairs, didn’t see Henry in the kitchen and went on up to his room. If only he could be as sure as his brothers. He dialed Kendra’s number and hung up before the second ring. That wasn’t the way to go. She wasn’t for him, and he shouldn’t mislead her. He opened his briefcase and gazed unseeing at Russ’s drawings for extensions to the Florence Griffith Joyner Houses. What kind of evening did he want with Pamela? At times, thinking about her softness aggravated his libido until it made him uncomfortable. At other times, he could see her and think of her dispassionately.

“No point in stewing over it,” he said to himself. “We’ll see what happens tomorrow.”

Pamela, too, had concerns about the course of their relationship. Now that she knew he cared but was uncertain as to what he wanted for them, she meant to teach him to love her. If that didn’t work and soon, she meant to invite him to take a walk. She put on a red woolen suit and silver hoop earrings, let her hair hang on her shoulders, added Calèche perfume and black accessories, and looked at her watch. He’d be there in five minutes. Almost immediately the doorman buzzed her.

“Good evening, Miss Langford. Mr. Harrington to see you.”

“Thanks, Mike. Ask him to come up.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He sang the words, because he liked Drake and encouraged her to be with him.

She walked around the living room rubbing her hands together, fingering the art objects that she had collected in her travels, lecturing herself that she shouldn’t seem eager. And then the doorbell rang and she sprang toward it, calmed herself and walked the remainder of the way.

“Hi,” he said, handed her a bouquet of tea roses and grinned. “You look better every time I see you.”

“Stop fibbing and come in while I put these in water. They’re beautiful. Thank you.” She went to the kitchen, got a vase, put water in it and arranged the flowers, taking her time in order to retrieve her aplomb. She brought them back, said, “I’m putting these on my night table,” and brushed past him on her way to her bedroom, the fabric of her suit gently caressing his.

“I’m ready,” she said when she came back to the living room.

“I’m not.”

Before the words registered, she was in his arms and his mouth was on her. His lips parted over hers; she inhaled his breath and the tip of his warm tongue probed for entrance into her mouth. Stunned by the swiftness of it, she hadn’t time to summon control and submitted to the passion that swirled within her. She sucked his tongue into her mouth, and he demanded that she take more. Her nipples hardened and she heard her moans as he gripped her hips to his body with one hand and, with the other, tightened around her shoulder until she could almost count his heartbeats. His hand roamed over her back as if he sought the answer to what touched her, to what would make her his alone. Her hand went to his nape, caressing, asking for more, and he gave it, darting here and there to every crevice in her mouth, squeezing her to him until she had a raw, aching need to have all of him.

Shamelessly she rubbed the painful nipple, and he moved her hand, pinched and caressed it until she cried out, “Drake, I can’t stand this.”

He stopped the torture at once, and with both arms around her he enveloped her in a gentle embrace. “I don’t suppose you intended for it to go that far. I know I didn’t, but I’m pretty sure I’ll do it again, unless you make it impossible.”

When she didn’t respond, he tipped up her chin and gazed into her eyes. Knowing what he saw, she quickly closed them. The feel of his lips on her forehead, her cheeks and the tip of her nose told her that he cherished her. At least for now, he does, she thought.

“I think it would be a good thing if we headed for the restaurant.”

The expression on his face and the tone of his voice made it clear that if they didn’t leave, they might be there till morning. “I’ll get my coat.”

“You know,” he said near the end of their dinner, “I like the fact that you’re comfortable enough with me that you don’t feel a need to chat. Self-possession is a good trait.”

She nearly laughed. “Drake, I’m not one bit comfortable with you right now. I am overwhelmed by what you did to me in my apartment. It’s the first time in my life that a man destroyed my will. I am self-possessed most of the time, or so people tell me, but not right now. I’m quiet because if I talk, I’ll probably say something I’ll regret…like what I just said.”

His stare seemed to penetrate her. Then, he laughed. “If I was sitting beside you, I’d hug you. I wondered if I was out of line back there. You’re not alone, Pamela. I also got a surprise. A big one. As long as you’re not sorry—”

“I’m not.”

“Neither am I.”

He held her hand as they walked to his Jaguar, which he’d parked three blocks from the restaurant. “I’ll be terribly disappointed if you don’t like this movie,” he said.

“Not to worry. I need a good laugh.”

“I’m going to assume that that remark had no negative implications.”

“I don’t believe in indirect insults. A stab ought to be clean and lethal.”

He opened the passenger door for her, fastened her seat belt and closed the door. “Something tells me I’d better get a breastplate,” he said after settling into the car and closing the door.

“Why? I wouldn’t harm a strand of your hair. Besides, do I look like I’d hurt a flea?”

He turned fully to face her. “If my hair is so safe with you, move over here and let me get my arms around you.”

She did as he’d asked and was rewarded with a tenderness that was new to her, with him or with anyone. “I could get used to this with you,” he whispered, “but I’d better move slowly, because I don’t know what the end will be.”

She didn’t release him, because she didn’t want to, because she needed to prolong and savor that moment when she first knew she loved him. She reached up, ran her hands over his hair and then let her fingers trail down the side of his face and her thumb caress his bottom lip. It was an intimate gesture, she knew, but she felt like being honest with him. And it was the one way she could tell him he was precious to her without saying the words.

As if he understood the meaning of her gesture, he whispered, “Yeah. Me, too,” turned the key in the ignition, put the car in Drive and headed for the movie.