Читать книгу Private Lives - Gwynne Forster, Gwynne Forster - Страница 10

Asmart man would leave that woman alone, Brock cautioned himself, puzzled as he was by her behavior. But he pushed the notion aside, thinking that he’d deal with it later. He’d known a lot of women, but none had affected him as she did. He sensed that she was fragile, even wounded, and he had an unusual desire to protect her. That worried him, although not enough to make him stay away from her. He put on a CD and got down to work.

A few minutes before four o’clock, satisfied with what he had written, he picked up his toolbox, called Jack, got in his SUV and drove to Allison’s cabin. To his amazement, Jack jumped out of the car and headed for Allison’s front door wagging his tail. When Allison opened the door, the dog dashed past her to Dudley, greeting the child as if they had been separated for years.

“Hi,” he said to Allison. “My dog seems to be taken with Dudley.”

“Dudley has a way about him,” Allison replied. “He can really get next to you. Come in.”

“Yeah. I suspect it’s in his genes.”

She didn’t comment, but her embarrassment was apparent. As he walked into the house, he left plenty of space between them. After removing the old stove and moving it out to the deck, he brought the other one into the kitchen.

“That thing is heavy,” she said. “Why don’t you rest for a few minutes? I’ll get you a cup of coffee.”

He wasn’t tired and didn’t want coffee, but she wanted to do something for him, so he accepted. “Thank you, Allison. Why don’t you keep Dudley and Jack company while I do this? The last thing I need right now is a distraction.” He shot a quick glance at her.

“Do you always say everything that comes to your mind?”

He couldn’t help grinning. “Absolutely not! If I did, you’d send me out of here faster than a Thoroughbred running down the stretch. Nah. I wouldn’t do that.”

She didn’t move and lowered her voice so that it was barely audible. “Why are you trying me, Brock?”

He peeled the label off the stove and set the appliance down within an inch of her foot. “I’m accustomed to working alone, Allison,” he said, ignoring her attitude. “This won’t take too long. We can talk after I finish.”

She folded her arms at her waist, gazed at him for a minute and walked out of the kitchen. If he seemed an enigma to her, he was not in a mood to explain himself. Hearing her footsteps as she walked around the house, he dropped the wrench on the floor, got up and went to the door leading from the kitchen to the living/dining room just as she threw up her hands in the manner of one either exasperated or defeated. He took three steps toward her and stopped himself.

My purpose here is to install the stove and that’s all I’m doing, he told himself. Damned if I’m going to skip to her tune. No way!

He finished the installation, turned on the oven to test it and strolled into the living room, where he found Allison staring at the dark screen of the TV set.

“Anything wrong with your TV?” he asked her.

“Not that I know of. I haven’t turned it on.”

For the moment he didn’t think a comment was warranted. “Do you have a couple of pieces of bread?” he asked her.

He wondered why she didn’t ask why he needed it. He toasted the bread. “The oven is working,” he said, holding up the bread. He handed her the oven thermometer that he’d purchased in Lake George the previous day. “I’d keep the oven on and calibrate it. If it matches this gauge, it should be all right.” He walked out on the deck and called Jack. “Come on, boy.”

“Can’t you stay a little longer, Mr. Lightner?” Dudley asked.

“I’m sorry, Dudley. I’d like to, but I have some work to do at home.”

“Thanks so much, Brock. I, uh…I know you’d be insulted if I tried to pay you, but maybe if I cook a real nice dinner one evening…I mean…would you come?”

It didn’t occur to him to smile as he looked at her. “If I hadn’t installed your stove, you wouldn’t invite me to dinner?”

“I didn’t imply that. Please don’t make things difficult.”

He told himself to be patient, that she had every right to take her time with him as any smart woman would do. “That’s the way you made it sound. Look!” He slapped his right fist into his left palm several times. “The problem with us would be easily solved if we were alone. I don’t want to push you, but I think you know what I mean. I’ll be glad to have dinner here with you any time you ask me.” He lowered his voice. “And if Dudley wasn’t staring at me, you know what I’d do right now.” He hunkered in front of the boy, hugged him, picked up Jack’s leash and headed out the door.

“Mommie, if I can’t play with Jack, what about the guitar? You said you’d get me a guitar teacher. I finished my lessons and I don’t have anything to do.”

“I haven’t had time, honey, because I have to finish this book,” she said.

Brock turned around. “Does he have a guitar?”

She nodded. “My sister gave him a guitar that she’d used during her fling with folk singing. He sees people playing the guitar on TV and he wants to learn, but I haven’t had time to find a teacher for him and I don’t want him to strum. I want him to learn music.”

Did he want to do it? Brock thought. Before he could decide, Dudley said, “Can you help Mommie find a teacher for me, Mr. Lightner?”

“We’ll see.” He couldn’t offer unless he first discussed it with Allison. “I’ll call you,” he said, looking at her, “and let you know whether I can help.” He winked at her and left. Now if he’d only remembered her phone number correctly!

She hated wishy-washy people and Brock Lightner probably thought of her as precisely that. If anybody had asked whether she’d kiss him the way she had earlier that day, she would have denied it. She’d never kissed a man that way, had never wanted to. But she had wanted a lot more from Brock than a kiss and she’d foolishly let him know it.

Aware that the telephone was ringing, she went to look at the caller ID screen, saw that the caller was Brock and lifted the receiver.

“Hello, Brock.”

“Hi. I didn’t want to say this in Dudley’s presence, because I wanted you to have the option of saying no. I play the piano and the guitar, both of which I began studying when I was about Dudley’s age. I can teach him to play the guitar, provided he wants to learn, but if you’d rather I didn’t, I won’t hold it against you. So feel free to turn me down and find someone else to teach him. Before you answer, I want you to know that I won’t accept one penny for it.”

“You don’t leave me an option, Brock. If you aren’t his teacher and if Dudley knows you play the guitar, he’d want to know why you didn’t teach him. He’d learn well with you, because he trusts you and cares for you. But I couldn’t let you do it free of charge.”

“Are you talking to Mr. Lightner, Mommie? Did he say he’d find me a teacher? Mommie, can I please speak with Mr. Lightner?”

“No, darling. I’m speaking with him now.”

“I’d teach him at home,” Brock said, “so you needn’t worry about him. Think about it before you say no.”

“All right. I will. And thank you for offering to help.”

She hung up feeling uneasy. She’d seen nothing of Brock that would make her suspicious of him. She’d become paranoid about Lawrence and his threats of revenge, but she’d die if he stole Dudley from her and took him outside the United States to a country where women had little legal status. The man had the cunningness of a fox and nothing was beyond him. But somehow she couldn’t accept that Brock would be working with a man like Lawrence Sawyer.

“If he agrees to teach Dudley here while I’m at home, what can go wrong?” she asked herself. What indeed, other than that Dudley would develop an even stronger attachment to him. She had to risk it. Any teacher would have an influence on her child, and Brock’s influence had already eased some of her problems with the boy. Still…

She dialed her sister’s number. “I’m in a dreadful dilemma,” she told Ellen after they greeted each other.

“Oh. Mr. Wonderful getting to you already?”

“Mr. Wonderful, as you call him, got to me the minute I saw him. The problem is that he plays the guitar and offered to give Dudley lessons. But I’m not sure I want Dudley to become even more attached to Brock Lightner. He’s already nuts about the man and his dog. But I’m not convinced that this perfect Adonis isn’t up here at my ex’s behest, although he hasn’t given me a single reason to believe that. In fact, it’s just the opposite. But I know how devious my ex-husband can be and I don’t know what to do.”

“I gather he hasn’t made a move on you.”

Allison rested her left elbow on the table. “He made a move, but he didn’t have much choice. I was there and I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“I’m going up there and having a look at that specimen. I didn’t know you could even feel that kind of attraction. You’d better find out something about that man, ’cause from where I sit, you can forget about not going to bed with him.”

“Don’t joke, Ellen. I admit he’s stirred feelings in me, but when push comes to shove, Dudley is first with me. I’m not going to do anything that will make me lose him.”

“Hmm. Apart from sex, what do you think of the guy?” Ellen asked her.

“So far, all he’s done has made me think he’s a wonderful man. You know how Dudley can be. Well, Brock disciplined him about disobeying me a couple of times, but he did it in a gentle manner. Dudley has stopped misbehaving. He’s also become more considerate and helpful because Brock told him that boys are supposed to help their mothers.”

“Wait a minute. You said you weren’t going to have anything to do with that man. When did that change?”

“Long story, but you can imagine with some of Dudley’s antics.”

“My advice is go with your gut, sis. You can’t afford to be so paranoid that you ruin Dudley’s life and yours, too. The boy needs to be with people and if there aren’t any his age, being with a good role model will do a lot for him. Nobody can make me believe that you’d fall for another man like Lawrence.”

“No, I don’t think he’s a bad guy and I haven’t fallen for him.”

“I’m not the one who needs convincing. If the man helps Dudley learn to play the guitar at your place, what are you worried about?”

“You’re right. Thanks. I should call him. Bye.” She hung up, dialed Brock’s number and got a busy signal.

Brock knew that he could easily spare a couple of hours a week teaching Dudley to play the guitar. But Allison wouldn’t let the boy out of her sight and that meant being closer to her than he needed to be. He could still smell her scent two hours after he left her. She was starved for love and affection and she wanted him. But he couldn’t understand her reluctance and he definitely did not welcome it. Something was wrong and until he knew what it was, he’d tread carefully. As he thought about his relationship with Allison, the phone rang. He hoped he’d hear her voice.

“Lightner here.”

“Lightner here. How’s it going, man?” his older brother, Jason, said.

“Hey! What’s up, brother?”

“Plenty. I need a favor. I know you’ve retired from private investigating, but I need you as I never did before. I have a client who’s innocent and unless you help me, she’s going to have to pay a hefty price.”

“You’re so sure she’s innocent?”

“Absolutely. After practicing law for twelve years, I know when a client is lying and when she’s telling the truth.”

“I told Mom that I’d quit and I was going back to practicing law. What’s the problem?”

“My client’s married and she spurned the attention of a man on her staff, told him that he was harassing her and threatened to tell his wife if he didn’t stop it. Afraid that she might tell his wife, the man charged her—his boss—with sexual harassment. I need some background info on the man.”

He loved his brother, his closest friend and confidant, but he didn’t like going back on his word to his mother. “Tell you what. You explain it to Mom, call me back and tell me what she says. I’m not in the habit of lying to her.”

Seconds after he hung up, the phone rang and he saw Allison’s number on the caller ID screen. “Hi, Brock. I asked Dudley if he’d like you to be his guitar teacher and he’s so excited that he’s practically orbiting the earth. I’d appreciate it if you could give him lessons here.”

He thought for a minute. “We can try that, Allison. But if your presence creates a problem…” He let the thought hang and added, “When I go to your place to teach Dudley, I’ll leave Jack at home. Does that guitar have all six strings?”

“I’m sure because we’ve never taken it out of the case since my sister, Ellen, gave it to him.”

“Good. If from four to five on Thursday afternoons is good for you, we’ll start.” He’d forgotten about his promise to Jason. “I’ll let you know when I can start.” She thanked him but seemed reluctant to end the conversation.

Brock prided himself in being cautious, but he hadn’t had much experience with what he was feeling and he doubted that just being cautious would solve his problem. And another thing, he had to tell Allison that he’d probably be away from Indian Lake for a week or two, but he didn’t want his announcement to appear more important than it was. In any case, he had to wait until he heard from Jason.

The phone rang but it wasn’t Jason who called him. He should have known he’d hear from Darlene Lightner. “Hi, Mom,” he said when he answered, having seen her name on his caller ID screen. “Don’t tell me. I know you’ve just spoken to Jason. I think I might help him, provided I can.”

“Of course you should help your brother. But I told him that the next time he needs a private investigator, he should find someone else. How’s your book coming along?”

“It’s coming along. I’m only now getting into it. The problem is what to exclude.”

“If I were writing it, I’d start with the first case you took and why you took it. It isn’t often that a lawyer decides to work as a P.I. The rest I’d treat like an autobiography. But I’m not writing it.”

He sat down and got comfortable. His mother—a university professor—had taught English composition and writing for years and he could have discussed with her his plans for the book. But he didn’t want his mother to help him with his work.

“Thanks, Mom. I’ll keep that in mind and thanks for understanding that I want to help Jason if I can. I don’t plan to resume work as a private detective, so not to worry.”

“Thank the Lord. That’s dangerous work. When are you coming back this way, son?”

“I should be in Washington day after tomorrow to start work on Jason’s case. I’ll be staying with Jason, so I’ll drop by from time to time.” He knew that pleased her. “How’s Dad?”

“Your father’s fine and he’s been on cloud nine ever since you told him you planned to practice law again. I have to get to class. Bye for now.”

He said goodbye and hung up. Neither of his parents had approved of his work as a private investigator, but neither had interfered. He was glad that a single opportunity evolved into a career that in eight years had made him a wealthy man. And thanks to the experience, he’d be a better lawyer. He remained seated, thinking how best to tell Allison he’d be away for a short while. Normally, it wouldn’t be a problem, but he’d just agreed to teach Dudley the guitar and he had to postpone the first lesson. He lifted his right shoulder in a quick shrug. The way she reacted would tell him a lot about her.

Allison grabbed Dudley, sat him down and told him, “Mr. Lightner offered to teach you how to play the guitar. You are not going to strum like those kids you see on television. The guitar is a musical instrument, and—”

“It’s okay, Mommie. I’ll learn whatever Mr. Lightner teaches me. How often is he going to give me lessons? Every day?”

She felt a little ashamed about her attitude. Even if he only learned to strum, he’d be able to entertain himself. “He has to work, Dudley, so he can only teach you once a week. Besides, that’s the way most music teachers teach their students, once a week.”

“Okay. If that’s what Mr. Lightner says. When is he coming?”

The phone rang, saving her an answer, at least for the moment. “Hello, Brock.”

“It’s a nice day, Allison, too nice to stay inside. Would you like to walk along Adirondack Lake for a while before twilight? Dudley might like to get out of the house, and Jack needs some exercise.”

“These cinnamon rolls need to bake for another half hour. After that I’m free.”

Half an hour later, he knocked on her front door. When she opened it, Jack—behaving as if he were home—dashed inside to find Dudley.

“Here,” he said. “I brought you this walking stick. They’re useful for climbing that little hill and for discouraging small animals. Ready?”

She wished she could accept what she saw in his eyes. The warmth, sweetness and tender caring—expressions she’d never once seen in her ex-husband’s face—were for her. How had she made such a gargantuan mistake with Lawrence Sawyer?

Dudley ran into the living room, followed by Jack. “You’re going to teach me the guitar, Mr. Lightner? You want to see my guitar?”

He didn’t shift his gaze from her face. “I’ll have a look at it when we get back.”

Dudley stepped close and looked up at Brock. “Where’re we going?”

“We’re going to walk around the lake before twilight sets in.”

Brock reached for her hand and without thinking, she clasped his tightly. His slightly narrowed eyes told her that she’d surprised him. She let it roll off her. Hadn’t he surprised her a few times?

To her relief, they didn’t encounter any wild animals as they strolled around the lake at the edge of the woods, but the wildlife began their eerie conversations and fish could be heard jumping in the lake. She felt a lot safer when they reached her house.

“Would you stop in for a while?” she asked Brock.

“Yes. I promised Dudley I’d check out his guitar and I’m eager to sample your cinnamon rolls. I love those things.”

“Dudley, get the guitar for Mr. Lightner while I make some coffee.”

In the kitchen, she whispered, “Lord, please don’t let me make a mistake with this man. I need him, but I don’t know whether he’s for good or evil.” She made fresh coffee and put a plate of cinnamon rolls on a tray along with coffee cups, sugar, cream and a glass of lemonade for Dudley.

“This is a fine guitar,” Brock said when she returned to the living room. “It has a great tone.” He played a few bars of “The Girl from Ipanema.”

“Am I going to learn to play like that, Mr. Lightner?”

He patted Dudley’s shoulder. “If you practice and study, you’ll play better than that.” She regarded her son’s eyes, his expressions of awe and happiness and thought about how much she owed Brock. She looked steadily then at the man who was digging a place for himself inside her heart and knew with certainty that he was a part of her destiny. She reached toward him, but he must have read her mind and pointed to the tray.

“Are you planning to give me some of those rolls before they get cold?”

Embarrassed that she’d forgotten her son’s presence, she pushed the tray toward Brock. “Help yourself.”

He bit into the roll and closed his eyes. “I could eat every one you cooked if you didn’t have to photograph them. By the way, when do you want the photographer?”

“Monday will be fine. For the first run, I’m baking things that can be photographed after they’re days old.”

He seemed in deep thought for a minute before he said, “Will you and Dudley go out to dinner with me tomorrow evening? For the boy’s sake, we can eat around seven, if you like. If we go down to North Creek, we should be back by nine-thirty.”

“I’d love to,” she said.

“I’m going, too?” Dudley asked when Brock told him. “I always had to stay with a sitter when Mommie went somewhere.”

“Not this time,” Brock said.

She wanted to hug him, but she didn’t dare. His eyes told her that he wanted the same and more. Holding Jack’s leash, he walked to the door. She stepped outside before him, closed the door behind him and, sheltered by the darkness, he pulled her into his arms and she parted her lips for his kiss. With his tongue deep in her mouth, he leaned against the house, gripped her buttocks with both hands and sent frissons of heat plowing through her. She’d never wanted anything or anyone as she wanted the feel of him deep inside of her at the minute. As if he knew how she longed for him, he loosened his grip on her, caressed and hugged her with such gentleness that she blinked back tears.

Maybe she shouldn’t ask questions but should just “take the money and run.” Her common sense told her she’d be a fool to pass up her first chance at genuine lovemaking. Because if Brock Lightner wasn’t a tender and considerate lover, surely no man could be.

She fussed for an hour the next afternoon about what to wear and when Dudley asked if he could wear his white pants, she readily agreed because that gave her an excuse to wear a pale green, sleeveless sheath of cotton voile. And when she opened the door to Brock and saw that he wore a beige linen suit and a tie, she gave silent thanks for Dudley’s vanity. The boy loved clothes and, for once, he’d steered her correctly.

“Mommie, can I wear my jacket? Mr. Lightner’s wearing one.”

She said nothing, but went into the boy’s room, got the jacket that matched his pants and handed it to him.

“You look lovely,” Brock said and handed her two day lilies that he’d picked from his garden. She thanked him and put the lilies in a vase with water. This Brock Lightner was far and away a different man from the one who walked around in T-shirt, sneakers and Bermuda shorts. She’d thought him handsome and the personification of sexiness, but the man before her had a commanding presence with which she was unfamiliar. He was a man who knew who he was.

“Where’s Jack?” Dudley wanted to know.

“He’s taking care of the house. Jack doesn’t go to restaurants.”

She stared up at him. “There are certainly no flies on you, Brock. You look…” She thought it best to leave it unsaid. “Let’s go.”

He drove them to a restaurant just past North Creek that she knew hosted weddings and other important celebrations. Their reservation was for a small, intimate dining room in which four other tables were occupied. As they ate, she noticed that Dudley copied Brock’s every move and it occurred to her that she may not be able to reverse the relationship even if she wanted to. Dudley had accepted Brock as a part of his life and she realized that her son needed the man.

“I’d better tell you now that I’ll be away for a week or two and I’ll start Dudley’s guitar lessons when I get back.”

“Where are you going?” she blurted out and immediately wished she hadn’t.

“My brother lives and works in Washington, D.C., and he asked me to come down and help him with a problem he’s having. Jason’s my closest friend as well as my brother and it didn’t occur to me to turn him down. Ross Hopkins, the photographer, will call you tomorrow and make an appointment to start photographing your recipes. I can assure you that he is completely trustworthy in every respect. If he wasn’t, I wouldn’t recommend him to you. I’ll call you from Washington. What’s the matter?”