Читать книгу The Bachelor Takes A Wife - Jackie Merritt - Страница 10

To Andrea’s surprise, the closed door merely piqued her curiosity. Certainly there was no reason to fear Keith. Goodness knows, he’d never had a vicious or threatening bone in his body, and in spite of old resentments she couldn’t imagine him changing in that regard.

“Whatever could you be thinking?” she murmured.

Keith wasn’t a bit bashful. “There’s a lot on my mind tonight. For quite some time now. For certain since our last meeting.”

“Which was when?” There was false innocence in her voice because she recalled the last time they’d seen each other quite clearly. She had been dining with a very nice young woman, Rebecca Todman, who had come to her for advice over Rebecca’s abusive past. Andrea’s longtime, well-known connection with New Hope sometimes resulted in one-on-one discussions with distraught women seeking relief from emotional pain and scarring caused by abusive relationships.

At any rate, Andrea had listened to Rebecca’s story throughout most of the meal and was in the process of assuring her that she seemed to be on the road to healing herself when Keith and Robert Cole, the detective hired by Wescott Oil to investigate the murder of Eric Chambers, came into the restaurant. Andrea had seen their entrance but could not have imagined them joining her and Rebecca. Robert’s interest in Rebecca had been the big draw, not anything between her and Keith. She’d been only cool and distant with him, as usual, she recalled now, so whatever tidbit of association occurring that evening to cause “a lot on his mind” had completely escaped her notice.

“Surely you remember,” Keith said. “You were with Rebecca and…”

“Yes,” she said flatly, cutting him off.

In truth she had absolutely no desire to know what had happened that evening to reactivate his interest in her. The mere thought of Keith in her life again was stupefying. Why, they couldn’t be more different! He was wealthy beyond belief and while she was far from poverty—she had inherited from both of her parents and then her husband—her style of living would bore Keith silly. His would destroy her. Loud and boisterous friends, too much money and living in an ostentatious mansion? Oh no, she couldn’t even think of that sort of existence without shuddering.

The limousine’s interior lights had gone out when Keith closed the door, but the parking lot lights illuminated his face. Andrea looked straight into his eyes and asked, “Isn’t it time we returned to the clubhouse? If I remember correctly, dinner is to start promptly at eight. I don’t have a watch. What time is it?”

Keith obligingly checked his watch. “Yes, we have to go back, but in a minute. Andy—do you remember when I called you Andy?—for some time now when I’ve seen you something inside of me does flip-flops. I’ve been trying to understand it, without a whole lot of success. But since I have that same sensation tonight, it has to mean something. Any ideas?”

“One springs to mind,” she said dryly. “Flopping organs could be serious. I would contact my cardiologist and request an EKG if I were you.”

Keith grinned. “Ouch.”

“Then again, it could be gas. Come on, let’s go.”

Keith stared at her, admiring her grit and knowing he couldn’t let her get away with such brazen repartee at his expense. He moved quickly but smoothly, taking her by surprise, and ended up with his arms around her and his mouth on hers. He felt her shocked gasp on his lips but instantly forgot it within the hot whirlwind of emotions overwhelming him. Her mouth was incredible, soft and sensuous, and while she wasn’t exactly kissing him back, she wasn’t trying to scratch out his eyes, either.

He didn’t overdo it and broke the kiss after only a few moments. “Dear Andy,” he murmured softly. “Sweet as candy. We had the real thing once, or we almost did. Something tells me that this is our time.”

She was so outraged that she was trembling. “This is not our time! I don’t even know what you mean by that absurdity. Let go of me, Keith.”

“Let’s go inside and have some fun,” he said cheerfully, letting her go.

“I’m afraid your idea of fun and mine do not coincide.” Instead of waiting for him to get out through the door they both had used to gain entrance to the limousine, she opened the one on her side of the vehicle and exited as gracefully as she could manage, considering the explosive nature of her mood.

Keith hastened to join her. “When did you become a snob?” he asked.

Andrea stiffened and almost gave him no answer at all. How dare he judge her? But after a few seconds she had to defend herself. “I am not a snob,” she said icily.

“Sure you are. You think you’re superior to everyone here, especially me. You didn’t feel that way in college.”

“That was twenty years ago! I don’t know who or what I was in college, other than stupid!” She was referring, of course, to her relationship with him and hoping he got the message.

He did, but not precisely as she’d meant it. “It wasn’t twenty years ago, it was eighteen years ago, and we were both a little stupid in those days. But neither of us was a snob, Andy Pandy.”

“Please stop calling me those ridiculous names!”

“I like those names. Be honest. Didn’t you enjoy that kiss just a little?”

They had reached the patio, which was completely vacant. Everyone had gone into the ballroom for dinner. Andrea stopped at the door to send him a very poisonous look.

“You are my age, thirty-eight years old, and still you behave like an adolescent. No, Keith, I did not enjoy that kiss. Perhaps I liked being pawed in my youth, but my youth has long been spent. Apparently yours hasn’t.”

Swinging away, she opened the door for herself and went in. Shaking his head, Keith followed. “You act as though we’re ready for the rocking chairs. You sure don’t look like your nights should be spent a-rocking and a-reading. Hey, that’s good. You used to rock and roll, and now you rock and read.” He ducked his head to peer at her face. “Am I right or wrong?”

“What you are is incredibly vexing.”

“Vexing? I’m vexing? You know, I’ve seen that word in novels but I’ve never heard anyone actually use it before. Vexing Keith.” He chuckled. “Guess I’m a vexin’ Texan.”

“You’re also not nearly as clever as you think you are.”

“But I’m cute.”

Andrea rolled her eyes. “Puppies, kittens and small children are cute. You’re a middle-aged man, for pity’s sake. Get over yourself.”

“Middle-aged! Boy, you go right for the jugular, don’t you? Now, that hurt, Dandy Andy.”

“I hope so,” she said sweetly and then said no more; they had reached the entrance to the ballroom. She could see that it had been festively decorated and set up for dinner with numerous tables, which were filled with chatting, excited, laughing people. Later, after dinner and the ceremony of presenting her with the club’s donation, most of the tables would be removed to make room for dancing. Andrea planned to leave shortly thereafter, as soon as she could do so without appearing rude or ungrateful. She was, after all, representing New Hope, and she couldn’t act solely on her own behalf. Of course, if she had only herself to consider, she wouldn’t be here in the first place.

Keith offered his arm and said quietly, “Our table is across the room.”

Gritting her teeth, Andrea forced herself to take his arm and to smile. Crossing that large room on Keith Owens’s arm, with nearly every eye in the place on the two of them, was pure torture. She knew she shouldn’t let it bother her. After all, she was there for the charity presentation, but how people did love to talk! To whisper and speculate and imagine. Andrea could see them doing it as she and her self-appointed escort moved among the tables. Escort indeed. What nerve!

“Here we are,” Keith announced, stopping at a circular table with four couples and two vacant places. “I think you already know some of these people, but let’s make this easy. Starting on the left we have Will and Diana Bradford, then Rob and Rebecca Cole, Sebastian and Susan Wescott and finally Jason and Merry Windover. Everyone, this lovely lady is Andrea O’Rourke.”

Hellos were said, Andrea’s chair was pulled out and then she and Keith sat down. Conversations began, and Andrea participated graciously. In mere minutes the first course of the meal was served, and Andrea found herself relaxing with these friendly people. From bits and pieces of the table talk she overheard while eating, she gathered that all of the men were members of the Cattleman’s Club, which forced her to alter the hard-drinking, crude-talking, cigar-puffing image of the typical member of this club with which she’d arrived. These were intelligent, attractive people, every one of them, ranging in age from mid-twenties to early forties, and it occurred to Andrea that she could like them—some more than others, of course—if they weren’t such bosom buddies with Keith.

She fell silent, while enjoying a delicious salad made with tender greens, warm mushrooms and crunchy pecans, and thought about the kiss he’d ambushed her with in the limousine. She was glad, of course, that she hadn’t embarrassed herself by kissing him back. With his massive ego Keith would have taken even the slightest response from her as a green light and no telling what would have happened next.

Andrea suffered a sinking sensation over the scenario that idea conjured up. She knew exactly what would have happened if she had given Keith the encouragement he’d obviously hoped for. The problem with that relatively certain theory was the sensual ache it created in the pit of her stomach.

No! She would not ache for Keith Owens! For heaven’s sake, had she lost her mind tonight? She never thought about sex. She wasn’t looking for a man now, nor had she even considered another man since Jerry’s death! Lord love a duck, if you have to suddenly rediscover your libido, why pick Keith?

Right in the middle of that horrifying question she felt Keith’s leg press hers under the table. She moved her leg away from his and furtively reached under the tablecloth and pinched him on his nervy thigh, at the same time giving him a phony smile and saying in a low, for-his-ears-only voice, “Try that again and I’ll sue you for sexual harassment. There are eight witnesses around this table, and friends of yours or not, if I suddenly stood up and told you to keep your hands to yourself, they would testify on my behalf in court.”

“All I did was accidentally touch your leg with mine. You’re the one with the wandering hands. Who pinched whose thigh, you sneaky Pete?”

“Who kissed whom in the limousine, you Don Juan degenerate?”

“Oh, oh, the club photographer just snapped your picture. Could be one for the books, what with that accusing, vengeful expression on your pretty face.”

“You’re lying through your teeth. I know how to maintain a normal expression however furious my thoughts.”

“Learn that trick during your marriage?”

Andrea gasped. “How dare you? My marriage was…was wonderful!”

“Yeah,” Keith drawled. “So was mine. That’s why I’m divorced.”

“You know perfectly well my husband passed away. We never would have gotten divorced!”

Keith regretted his comment at once. He never should have wisecracked about Andrea’s marriage, not when he really knew nothing about it except that her husband had died. He just seemed to be more nervous around Andrea than he’d anticipated.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have implied anything.”

“No, you should not have!” Andrea turned away. In a second she sent him another resentful look. “And I am not a snob. You’re incredibly rude, which, when I recall the past, you always were.”

“Rude, vexing Keith,” he whispered with a dramatic sigh. He had to get over it, he knew, and forced himself to lighten up and ask, “How did you ever put up with me for so many years?”

Andrea decided they were both going too far. If it hadn’t been for the din of so many conversations plus background music, their dinner companions would already easily have overheard them. She didn’t want to cause more gossip, since she was positive it was already occurring all around their table. It was better just to ignore Keith as much as she could.

Dishes were cleared away for the next course and Andrea looked up to see Laura Edwards, a waitress from the Royal Diner, working at another table. Laura wasn’t a friend, but Andrea knew her from stopping into the diner occasionally to indulge in one of Manny, the cook’s, fabulous hamburgers. The diner itself was an assault on one’s senses with its red vinyl décor and smoke-stained walls and ceiling, but there was no question about Manny’s burgers being the best in town.

Something about Laura tonight gave Andrea pause. The woman looked pale, pinched and—was haunted the right word for that wary, frightened expression on Laura’s face? Or perhaps hunted was more appropriate. After a few moments of watching the waitress at work, and pondering her unusual demeanor, it occurred to Andrea that Laura looked exactly like the terrified women who came to New Hope’s shelter to escape abuse!

Andrea pushed back her chair. “Please excuse me,” she murmured to the table in general. Keith leaped up and the other men started to rise, also. Andrea smiled her thanks at them and walked toward the Ladies’ Lounge sign. As planned, she intercepted Laura on her way to the kitchen with a tray of dirty dishes.

“Laura, hello,” she said. “I’d like to speak to you. Can you take a minute?”

“Oh, Mrs. O’Rourke,” Laura said in recognition. “It would have to be only a minute…we’re all real busy…but let me get rid of this tray first.”

“Of course. Can you meet me in the ladies’ lounge?”

“Employees aren’t supposed to use that facility, but I’ll tell the boss that you asked to see me about something. That should clear it.”

“Good. See you shortly.” Andrea continued on to the lounge and Laura disappeared into the kitchen. Andrea was touching up her lipstick in front of a long beveled mirror over a pink marble counter—pink marble was the last thing she might have expected to see anywhere within the confines of this otherwise blatantly male retreat—when the door opened and Laura slipped silently into the room.

Andrea turned from the mirror. “Thanks. Laura, I can see from the look in your eyes and on your face that something is seriously wrong. I’m sure you’re aware of my connection to New Hope and of the good the organization does for battered and abused women. You can talk to me, Laura. Nothing you say would ever be repeated, except perhaps to a counselor at the center, and only with your permission.”

Laura was visibly squirming, obviously taken by surprise. “It…it’s not that, Mrs. O’Rourke.”

“Call me Andrea. I know how hard it is to talk about certain troubles, Laura, but if you’re in an abusive relationship you really must get out of it. I can help. New Hope can help.”

Laura wouldn’t quite meet her eyes and something sighed within Andrea. It happened so often. Too many abused women simply couldn’t speak of their torment and suffering until it got too horrible to bear. Andrea couldn’t spot any bruises on Laura, but some men beat their women in places that were ordinarily covered by clothing. And then, too, emotional bruising wasn’t visible.

Andrea reached into her small handbag for a business card, which she put in Laura’s hand. “Please call me if you ever need to talk, Laura,” she said gently. “Along with New Hope’s number, my home number is on this card. Call anytime, day or night.”

“Thank you,” Laura said hoarsely, slipping the card into a pocket of her uniform. “I…I really have to get back to work.”

“I understand.” Andrea smiled. “I wish I knew what to say to put a smile on your face.”

“You’re a kind person.” Laura smiled a little before hurrying out.

Andrea sighed again. That wan, mirthless smile that Laura had attempted spoke volumes, but the subject matter could only be guessed at. Obviously the woman was miserably unhappy over something, but was that something a man? An abusive man?

Leaving the ladies’ lounge, Andrea returned to her table.

Three hours later Keith walked her to the waiting limousine. The check made out to New Hope Charity in Andrea’s purse was such a generous sum that she had let its many zeroes influence her normal good judgment and had stayed at the ball much longer than she’d intended. Yes, she had even danced, with Keith and with several other men, and she regretted playing the social butterfly now because Keith was insistent about seeing her home.

“I’ll just ride along, walk you to your door to make sure you get home safe and sound, and then leave.”

Keith had been honestly concerned about Dorian forcing that introduction to Andrea, although Dorian must have left immediately after. Keith had watched all evening for him and had also alerted his friends to Dorian’s presence and intrusion, so they’d been watching, as well. But just because he’d vanished from the ball didn’t lessen Keith’s concern about Andrea going home alone.

She, of course, only saw Keith’s insistence as more attention than she wanted from him. “Please,” she said. “I’m exhausted and I don’t need anyone walking me to my door. I’ve lived alone for five years. I go home by myself after dark all the time.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t.”

“Nonsense.” Andrea extended her hand for a handshake. “Let’s say good-night here, and thank you again for a most generous donation.”

His dark eyes bored into her. “I’d rather kiss you than shake your hand.”

She sucked in a sudden sharp breath. “Don’t, Keith! You and I are not going to take up where we left off twenty years ago.”

“Eighteen years, and why aren’t we? Give me ten good reasons.”

“I’ll give you one. I don’t want to. Good night.” Andrea got into the limousine, the chauffeur closed the door and hurried around to the driver’s door, and they drove off. Andrea looked out the back window and saw Keith standing there, watching, just watching. He looked disappointed and…worried? Why on earth would he be worrying about her?

Turning around to face front, she put her head back and told herself that she didn’t care what was going on with him. They weren’t friends or lovers, merely very old acquaintances, and she had absolutely no desire to change the status quo. He had his world, she had hers, and it was best that they each stay within the boundaries they had been living within for many years. Why he would suddenly want to cross over into her world, or coax her into his after so long was beyond her.

She only knew she couldn’t let it happen.

Keith stood there until the limousine’s taillights were out of sight, then avoided the clubhouse and the valet, and walked to the parking lot to get his car for himself. It was much cooler at midnight than it had been earlier and the fresh night air felt good to him. Even so, he walked with his head down.

The night had not gone as well as he’d hoped. Dorian’s appearance had put everyone that knew the score on edge, of course, but even without that, Keith wasn’t satisfied with the evening—all due to Andrea’s adamant refusal to let down her guard with him. There was a wall around her that he hadn’t been able to breach with teasing good humor, open and admitted admiration or a pass he probably shouldn’t have made. It was odd how differently each of them saw the past. Possibly they’d been in love in college, but he couldn’t be sure. His head had been so full of ambitious dreams and he’d honestly believed Andrea had felt the same way. Even now Keith was positive they hadn’t been ready for the responsibilities of marriage back then; there were too many things to be done before taking that particular step.

Still, there had always been a serious connection between them, from their toddler sandbox days to that first experimental kiss and on through the rigors of high school. It was during the summer following high-school graduation, Keith recalled, that they had begun seeing each other as adults. And then in college they had gotten closer still. If it had been up to him they would have spent most of their free time in bed. Damn, he’d wanted her! Andrea was the one who’d kept things cool between them, but hadn’t her attitude been rather childish? After all, they had ended up in a horrific fight that had completely destroyed what they’d had, and, thinking about it now, Keith couldn’t help blaming Andrea’s stubborn insistence on chastity as the cause of their breakup.

Oh, well, he thought with a heavy sigh as he reached his car and got into it. Tearing apart the past was useless. He needed to concentrate on the present, on his campaign to prove Dorian’s guilt and on what he was going to do about Andrea now. They were completely separate issues, but each was seriously crucial to Keith’s peace of mind.

He simply was not going to accept Andrea’s avoidance any longer, that was all there was to it. Andy Vance O’Rourke was going to learn that he could be every bit as stubborn as she was, and what’s more, he was going to have fun in the process.

And so was she. Seeing her tonight, watching her so closely, sensing her withdrawal from anything that didn’t measure up to whatever high-handed rules she lived by had told him that she needed some fun in her life. Some real fun.

He was the guy to provide it, the guy to make her laugh and love and enjoy herself.

He knew it in his soul.

Andrea had an awful time sleeping that night, or what was left of it. She came wide awake at six the next morning, lay in her bed tired and resentful for an hour, then got up and stood under the shower until her head felt clearer.

Usually she ran in the morning. Rarely did a morning pass, in fact, that she didn’t run at least three miles. Her route took her from Pine Valley, Royal’s upscale community in which she and nearly everyone who could afford it had their home, to Royal Park, which had a well-used hiking trail completely surrounding it. A couple of turns around that trail and then the return trip to Pine Valley added up to three miles, a good workout.

It bothered Andrea that Keith lived in Pine Valley, too, although his mansion was on Millionaire’s Row, as that one particular area of Pine Valley was called by those in the know, and her house was quite some distance away. But she’d always known where he lived, even when she’d purchased her home, so she had eventually taken his presence—albeit mostly invisible—in stride.

Her house was lovely, small by Pine Valley standards, but very cozy and homey. It was a typical rancher but with lots of bells and whistles. After Jerry’s death she had sold the house they’d lived in during their marriage and bought this one. It would never do for a family, but it was perfect for one or two people. She had decorated it exactly to her liking, the very first time she’d been able to do that, and the interior colors were soft and conducive to peaceful relaxation.

This Sunday morning Andrea felt neither peaceful nor relaxed. She didn’t want to run, either. She was restless, barely able to sit still for more than a minute, but running held no appeal today, and these were very uncommon feelings for her to have. She knew who to blame for her unusual edginess.

How dared Keith kiss her last night? Memories of the entire evening seemed to bombard her from every direction.

It was noon before she felt halfway normal again, before she was calm enough to phone the officers of New Hope and relate the amount of the Texas Cattleman’s Club’s donation. They were, of course, overjoyed.

After that Andrea went back to bed, ignored several telephone calls that she let her voice mail pick up and spent a perfectly miserable afternoon switching channels on the large-screen television set in her bedroom.

It appeared that Keith Owens was succeeding in ruining her life, just as she’d feared would be the case if she were ever nice to him even one time.

Keith’s Sunday was almost as unproductive as Andrea’s, the main difference being the time he spent in searching the files in Eric Chambers’s computer. Keith had brought the computer home rather than to his company office, as he wanted the club members’ interest in this whole sad affair to remain as low-key as possible. That was the way the men of the club that were involved in saving lives and/or bringing criminals to justice worked—discreetly, strategically, invisibly.

The computer’s hard disk was laden with accounting files, understandable since Eric had been vice president of accounting at Wescott Oil. But there were numerous sub-files with far more information about clients of Wescott Oil than Keith thought necessary, indicating to him that Eric had been obsessive about detail. Nowhere, however, were there any notations or entries regarding the missing money. Considering Eric’s penchant for detail, Keith thought that strange.

After hours of searching, he opened Eric’s personal journal file and looked for hidden attachments. He could find nothing more than Rob had, but that didn’t satisfy Keith. He was positive that he had to be missing something, and he wasn’t giving up on finding it after only one session. Still, he turned off the computer, got to his feet and stretched his back.

For the rest of the evening he thought about the ball and Andrea. Just as he couldn’t give up on cracking Eric’s computer secrets, neither could he give up on Andrea just because she hadn’t encouraged his interest last night.

And he had an idea of what to do next to get her attention, too. He only hoped it would work.