Читать книгу The Backup Plan - Sherryl Woods, Sherryl Woods - Страница 9

Two weeks passed without a word from Bobby. Dinah was disappointed that he didn’t seem nearly as eager to renew their old relationship as she was. Or as she might be, she corrected. She wasn’t exactly sure what to expect. Was she just trying to find something to replace her career if she couldn’t conquer her post-traumatic stress issues and eventually go back to the network?

Acknowledging that possibility gave her a momentary twinge of guilt. Maybe Maggie was right. What right did Dinah have to disrupt Bobby’s life after ten years when she merely might be ready for marriage? Sure, at thirty-one her biological clock was probably ticking loudly, but she hadn’t even been listening to it until recently, not like a lot of women would be.

No, a relationship with Bobby was all about her desire to fill up her days with something that wouldn’t get her killed, to be around people who weren’t in danger of dying on a daily basis, to get her own equilibrium back.

Suddenly her reasons sounded damn selfish, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to meet Bobby and see how she would react. What was the point of having a backup plan if she wasn’t going to use it? If Bobby wasn’t interested in sticking to their deal then she’d have her answer. But how was she supposed to know how he felt without talking to him? Surely, after all they’d once meant to each other, he would at least tell her face-to-face that she was too late. He wouldn’t leave her twisting in the wind like this. It wasn’t one bit like him.

It was, however, a lot like Cord. There was always the very real possibility that Cord hadn’t gotten around to mentioning her visit to Bobby. It would be just like him to deliberately keep her message from his brother just to annoy her. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d done something totally underhanded to the two of them.

Another woman might have waited longer for Bobby to call on the off chance that he had made a conscious decision not to see her. Another woman might have feared being totally humiliated by the prospect of laying her heart bare and risking rejection, but Dinah wasn’t most women. She’d braved far greater risks than rejection.

Besides, she was growing restless and increasingly tired of trying to evade her mother’s worried interrogations. She’d come home on a mission. Perhaps it was a misguided one, but it was time she made something happen. Sitting around idle or being evasive wasn’t her style.

She intended to take Ray’s well-meant advice to heart. She was going to seriously consider getting married and having babies and put her dangerous, nomadic life behind her. She was beginning to wonder if she wouldn’t prefer being shot at, rather than bored to death but the instant that thought crossed her mind, she knew that she needed to find Bobby immediately. She couldn’t leave her fate in some other person’s hands, especially when that person was Cordell.

With that in mind, Dinah went shopping, found herself the prettiest little sundress in all of Charleston, then drove right back out to the Beauforts'. She planned on busting right past Cord if he was guarding the threshold again. This time she would see Bobby or find evidence that would point her in the direction of wherever he was.

As she made the trip, she realized what a wonder it was that she’d ever gotten to know Bobby and Cordell. They weren’t exactly poor, but they definitely hadn’t run in the same social circles as the Davises. They had been befriended by someone who did travel in the same circles and so Dinah had met them at an early age. Only much, much later had she realized the enormity of the gift that someone had given them by enrolling them in the best private schools in Charleston.

Cord had been a pain in the neck even then. Two years older and precocious, he’d seemed to sense that he and his brother were tolerated rather than accepted. He understood that they were in that fancy private school because of someone’s charity and he’d resented it. He’d set out to stir things up in a way that pretty much guaranteed that he wouldn’t even be tolerated by the time he hit his teens. Whoever their benefactor had been, he or she had let Cord’s ungrateful behavior pass. Maybe the person had even understood the cause of it. Dinah certainly hadn’t, not back then, anyway.

Of course, as time went by, that dangerous, rebellious streak had only made Cord more attractive to a certain group of risk-taking debutantes intent on giving their mothers the vapors. Dinah had most definitely not been one of them. If she’d held a secret fascination for the black sheep Beaufort brother, she’d been far too sensible to act on it. Even-tempered Bobby had suited her then and he suited her now. She’d come home in search of someone comforting, not a man who exasperated her at every turn, no matter what Maggie thought to the contrary.

Unfortunately, after she’d jarred her teeth driving over the rutted road that supposedly passed for a driveway, she found only Cordell. He was again sprawled in that shaded hammock, beer at his side, jeans riding low on his hips, his amazing abs now in full view. Her impression that he hadn’t changed from being a lazy, good-for-nothing jerk was correct. But for the first time Dinah couldn’t help but admire his body. Maggie had been right. God had given this man a real gift and he was wasting it out here in the middle of nowhere. He ought to pose for his own calendar, so women everywhere could ogle him in the privacy of their own homes. Dinah realized that even that would be too enterprising for Cord Beaufort.

When Cord didn’t immediately call out some insult, she concluded with relief that he was asleep. She decided to creep past him and go in search of Bobby.

She’d almost made it, when Cord’s hand snaked out and grabbed hers, hauling her to a stop. She couldn’t help noticing that despite his annoying, powerful grip, there was something amazingly sensual about the way her hand fit into his, the way his thumb rubbed a lazy little circle over her pulse. She swore to herself that the heat suddenly sizzling through her blood was due to the steamy afternoon temperature and had nothing at all to do with his almost hypnotic touch.

“I thought you were sleeping,” she accused, struggling to free herself.

“That’s not the first mistake you’ve made about me,” Cord said, his mouth curving into a grin. “I imagine you’re still prowling around looking for my brother.”

She saw no reason to deny it. “Yes.”

“He’s still out of town.”

Something in his overly-pleased tone told her that he most likely had something to do with that. “How much longer is he going to be gone?” she asked.

His gaze caught hers and held. “How long are you going to stick around Charleston?”

His words all but confirmed her suspicion. She scowled at him. “Why don’t you want me to see Bobby?”

Cord gave her a stunned look that was all innocence, or would have been if he were the sort to be constitutionally capable of maintaining an innocent act. Dinah acknowledged that it was a fairly decent attempt, though. Lord knew, he’d had enough practice perfecting it.

“Hey, my brother’s a grown man,” Cord told her. “He can see anyone he wants to see.”

“Then you’ve told him I’m here?”

He considered the question with a thoughtful expression. “Could be that it slipped my mind,” he finally admitted.

“Why?”

“I have a lot going on these days,” he said with a shrug. “I can’t remember everything.”

“Yeah, right. I can see for myself just how busy you are. It must be purely exhausting walking clear across the lawn to get your next beer.”

“Sugar, surely you’re not suggesting that I’m lying to you,” he said with a trace of feigned indignation.

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting,” she retorted.

“Why would I want to keep you and Bobby apart?” he asked, feigning innocence once more.

“I was wondering that very thing myself. I don’t understand it today any better than I did ten years ago when you made up a whole passel of lies to try to come between us. What is it, Cord? Can’t you bear the thought of your brother being happy?”

“With you?” he asked with such blatant skepticism that Dinah winced.

“He loves me,” she retorted.

“Is that so?”

“He proposed to me.”

“When exactly was that?”

“A while back,” she said, unwilling to admit just how long ago it had been.

“Ten years,” Cord said, proving he knew more than Dinah had suspected. “And you assume he’s been sitting around here pining for you all this time? How insulting is that? Bobby and I may not be a bit alike, but saint that he is, he’s still a man with needs, if you know what I mean.”

As smart and intuitive as Dinah had always thought herself to be, she was forced to concede that she’d never seriously taken into account the possibility that Bobby might have moved on. She assumed he’d dated, but she’d only considered then dismissed the possibility he’d found a new love of his life. But maybe Cord was right. Maybe she was taking Bobby’s affections for granted. In light of the deep feelings she’d developed for someone else during the past ten years, she had to acknowledge the possibility Bobby had indeed found someone else.

Studying Cord, she asked, “Is your brother involved with someone else?”

Cord seemed to be debating the answer to that one, but he finally said, “You’ll need to ask him that yourself. I got in the middle of your business once. I won’t make that mistake again.”

“Meaning he isn’t, but you wish he were,” she concluded with a little sense of triumph. Or was it relief she felt?

“No, meaning this is between the two of you,” Cord responded flatly.

His careful dance around the question echoed what Maggie had told her, which was more disconcerting than Dinah cared to admit. They both implied that they were leaving out an important truth that they thought only Bobby had a right to share with Dinah. She decided to try to get to the bottom of it, though she’d probably have better luck with Maggie than with Cord. He had a stubborn streak that Maggie didn’t share. Still, Cord was here and her best friend wasn’t. She might as well push him a little and see what happened.

“It would be between Bobby and me if you’d given him my message,” she said. “As it is, you’re right in the thick of it, Cordell. Why is that? Surely you’re not jealous.”

His low chuckle grated on her nerves. It spoke volumes about what he thought of that explanation.

“It’s not as if I’m a bad catch,” she grumbled.

“You’d be a challenge, no question about it,” he replied, his smirk still firmly in place. “In fact, if I had to comment, I’d say you’re too much woman for my brother.”

“Now who’s being insulting to Bobby?” she retorted. “Bobby can handle me.”

“Is that so? Then this ridiculous backup plan the two of you hatched was his idea? He talked you into it?”

She frowned at that. “No.”

Cord cupped his ear. “What was that? Did you say no?”

“It would never have worked if Bobby and I had gotten married ten years ago. He knew that,” she said defensively.

“But it will work now?”

“Yes.”

“Because you’ve gone round the world sowing all your wild oats, so to speak?”

“I didn’t sow any oats, dammit. It wasn’t about that,” she said, feeling her temper kick in.

“Oh, that’s right. You had to go and make a name for yourself. You wanted to be somebody special. And now what? You’re ready to settle down and be my brother’s wife and let him count his lucky stars every night that you deigned to come back to him?”

“Why are you so determined to put an ugly spin on this? I don’t have to listen to you question my motives,” she declared, whipping around to go.

“Maybe you should listen,” he said, a quiet command in his voice that compelled her to turn back. “This is all about you, Dinah. I’d wager you haven’t spent more than a minute or two thinking about what might be best for Bobby. You probably sat over there in Afghanistan and got some bee in your bonnet about your own mortality and decided it was time to come home and play it safe. Bobby’s not the love of your life. He’s just convenient.”

Because there was an undeniable element of truth to his stinging words, Dinah flinched. She searched for a ready comeback to put him in his place, but there wasn’t one.

Just then the wind kicked up. Black clouds rolled in the sky above them. Dinah could all but feel the stir of electricity in the air.

“Looks like we’re in for a storm,” Cord noted without moving a muscle. “Run along, Dinah, before you get drenched. There’s nothing for you here.”

She hated the patronizing tone in his voice as much as she hated his dismissal. She would have said so, too, then taken off, if a bolt of lightning hadn’t split the sky just then, immediately followed by a crack of thunder.

Her brain told her this was nothing more than a good old-fashioned summer storm, the kind that hit hard, turned the hard-dried ground into rivers of mud, then passed on, leaving the air steamier than ever.

But her heart and her nerves took over her rational thought and she felt immediately transported back to Afghanistan where car bombs exploded and gunfire prevailed all around. She dropped to the ground, lay on her stomach, and heard her heart pounding so hard she thought it might explode, before the first drop of rain even fell from the sky. Humiliating whimpers escaped before she could stop them.

Two seconds later Cord was beside her, gathering her into his arms, holding her tight against all his solid strength and bare skin, murmuring soothing nonsense words as the storm raged around them. Dinah clung to him, no longer caring that he was the bane of her existence. She could hear the steady beat of his heart and her own pulse finally slowed to match it. Her terror eased, but still she clung, his skin warm and slick beneath her fingers.

“Sugar, I’m going to take you inside now, okay?” Cord said, his tone surprisingly gentle. All traces of animosity and disdain had vanished. “We need to get you dried off and cleaned up, okay?”

Dinah shivered uncontrollably, but managed to nod. She prayed he couldn’t distinguish between the rain and the tears spilling down her cheeks. Given that he’d seen her take a nosedive into the dirt at the sound of thunder, it seemed absurd to worry about having him see her cry, but she still had a tiny shred of pride left.

Of all people, why had it been Cordell who witnessed her coming unglued? It was just going to give him one more thing to gloat about, one more reason to say she wasn’t good enough for his brother. He’d probably tell Bobby that he’d have to be insane to take her on.

Inside the house, Cord started to set her down in an easy chair, but Dinah couldn’t let go of him. When he realized she wasn’t going to release him, he sat in the chair himself and held her cradled against his chest.

With surprisingly gentle fingers, he brushed damp curls away from her face. When she finally risked a glance at his expression, she saw not the contempt she’d expected but a combination of understanding and tenderness. It brought more salty tears to her eyes. Cordell Beaufort’s compassion was the last thing she’d expected, the very last thing she wanted.

They sat like that for an eternity, neither of them speaking. Dinah slowly lost the sensation that she was spinning out of control. When she finally relaxed and sighed, she caught a glimpse of the satisfaction on Cord’s face. Some of the tension in his body eased, as well.

In the back of her mind, she noted with more than a little surprise that he didn’t seem interested in taking advantage of the situation. Based on his reputation, the Cord of old would have turned this into a seduction, or at least an attempt at one. He’d have considered it his duty.

“You’ve been through a rough time, huh?” he said, breaking the silence.

The note of sympathy in his voice made her eyes sting with more tears. “I can’t talk about it,” she said. She didn’t even want to think about the last year and she certainly didn’t want to discuss it with him. Of course, not talking about it hadn’t worked all that well.

“Maybe you should. It usually helps with this sort of thing. Brings the demons out of the closet, so to speak.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said disdainfully.

“You think not? The Gulf War wasn’t much of a picnic, Dinah. There were …” He hesitated, seeming to search for a word. “After-effects,” he said eventually. “There were after-effects for a lot of us.”

She blinked at that. “You were there? You had post-traumatic stress syndrome?”

He nodded, his face empty of expression. “Still do, I suppose.”

“And?”

“I survived.”

She gave him a wry look. “Apparently you don’t think what’s good for the goose is good for the gander. You could be a little more forthcoming than that.”

“It’s been more than ten years, Dinah. I’ve done my talking. I’ve put most of it behind me, at least as well as anyone ever can.”

“How?” she asked, unable to keep the plaintive note out of her voice. She hated sounding vulnerable, especially in front of Cord, but she needed to know that the dreams, the panic attacks would eventually end.

“Time, mostly.”

Dinah sighed. “I’m not sure there’s enough of that left in my lifetime.”

He gave her a faint grin. “You’re not that far over the hill, Dinah. You’ve probably got at least one or two good years left.”

“Sometimes I feel ancient,” she responded wearily.

A whisper of a breeze stirred over them and Dinah shivered, then realized that they were both sitting under a ceiling fan soaking wet. Though she hated leaving the unexpected comfort of his embrace, she pushed away and stood.

“I should go.”

“Not when it’s pouring like it is out there. The driveway will be a sea of mud. You’ll just get stuck and then I’ll have to tow you out of a ditch.”

As much as she wanted to go now that the panic had faded, she knew he was right. “Why don’t you pave the stupid driveway?” she grumbled.

He chuckled. “Because keeping it like it is generally keeps away unwanted visitors.” He gave her an insolent once-over that heated her blood. “Lately it’s not working half as well as it’s meant to. Some people apparently can’t take a hint.”

He stood up slowly and tucked a finger under her chin. “Stay put, okay? I’m going to get you one of my shirts and a towel, then you can take a warm shower and dry off while I throw your clothes in the washer.”

His sudden kindness was confusing her. She wasn’t sure how to react to it. It was easier to deal with Cord when he was being exasperating. “Why are you being so damn nice to me?”

“Maybe I don’t want you suing me for letting you catch pneumonia on my property.”

She gave him a disbelieving look. “I don’t think you can file lawsuits for something like that.”

“You have no idea what people will sue over these days. The world’s a crazy place. Now, are you going to stay put like I asked, or are you going to be stubborn and try to set out in this weather?”

“I’m stubborn, not stupid. I’ll stay, at least till the storm’s over.”

Something told Dinah there was a distinct possibility she was going to live to regret it.

Cord listened to the shower running in his bathroom and thanked his lucky stars that he’d gotten Dinah out of that sexy, soaking wet sundress and sent her off to change before she’d noticed that he was completely and totally aroused by the sight and feel of her. She’d fit a little too snugly in his arms, smelled a little too provocative. Her dress, respectable enough when dry, had been way too revealing when wet.

Sweet heaven, what was he thinking? Him and Dinah Davis? No chance in hell. She might be grateful to him right this second, but she’d come to her senses before the night was out and remember that she hated him, that she had good reason to. Add in that he was just too low class for her and any relationship between the two of them was doomed.

What grated was that he was certain now that she’d never dismissed Bobby as low class. Hell, she was all set to marry his brother, or thought she was. Cord figured it would be a cold day in hell before that happened.

By the time he heard the shower cut off, Cord had poured a couple of beers into glasses, mostly to prove he could be civilized when it suited him. He’d put a couple of chicken breasts topped with mushroom gravy into the oven to bake. He was in the process of making a salad when Dinah came into the kitchen.

She didn’t make a sound when she entered, but he knew she was there just the same.

“What’s all this?” she asked.

“Dinner. I figure even people who watch their waistlines for the camera have to eat something. Besides, the adrenaline rush from one of those attacks always left me starved.”

“What’s in the oven?”

“Chicken.”

“It smells … good,” she said hesitantly, with yet another note of surprise in her voice.

Cord grinned, though he was glad she couldn’t see his face. He doubted she would appreciate knowing how much she amused him with her faltering attempts to be polite. “You keep dishing out those lavish compliments, sugar, you’re going to turn my head.”

“I was trying to be polite,” she said crossly.

“I get that, but there’s no need to try so hard. Us low-lifes don’t expect much. A simple please and thank-you now and then will do.”

He turned to set the salad on the table and got his first good look at her in one of his old light-blue dress shirts. He damn near swallowed his tongue. He should have remembered how those long, bare legs of hers affected him. If he had, he would have come up with something else for her to put on … maybe baggy sweatpants, even if it was still eighty-eight degrees, despite the storm passing overhead.

“Why don’t you have a seat?” he suggested when he could speak without stammering. He needed to get those legs of hers out of sight before he started to imagine them wrapped around his waist while he buried himself inside her.

He yanked open the freezer door and stuck his head in, wishing it could be another part of his overheated anatomy.

“What are you looking for?” she asked, sounding puzzled.

“Ice,” he said.

“Isn’t that an ice dispenser on the door?” she inquired, amusement in her voice.

Cord cursed the oversize, stainless steel refrigerator Bobby had insisted they buy. “Broken,” he lied tersely. He turned back to the table with a handful of ice, almost regretting that he couldn’t shove it down the front of his jeans.

“I see,” Dinah said, though she still looked skeptical. “And what was it you needed the ice for?”

“Water,” he said at once, dumping the handful of cubes into a glass, then running tap water over them and drinking every drop of the cold water straight down. It slaked his thirst, but did nothing for the hunger that had been gnawing at him since he’d gotten a good look at Dinah in his shirt.

He busied himself with getting the rest of their dinner on the table, grateful that Dinah had finally gone silent. Maybe she’d realized just how close he was to hauling her into his arms and kissing her senseless.

When he finally sat down at the table, she studied him quizzically. It was the kind of curious, penetrating look that he imagined her using on some reluctant interview subject. No wonder she’d won so many awards. All but squirming under that gaze, he’d have told her just about anything she wanted to know.

“What have you been doing with yourself all these years?” she asked eventually.

Cord was a little surprised her mother hadn’t told her, maybe not about the company, but at least about his role in the restoration of Covington Plantation. Then, again, maybe he wasn’t a hot topic for the Davis women.

“This ‘n that,” he said, not sure why he didn’t want to tell her the truth and disprove once and for all the apparently low impression she had of him. In the end he figured he wasn’t the bragging type.

She frowned at his response. “Don’t you think you should have found steady work by now?”

“Oh, I do well enough,” he said.

“You can’t rely on Bobby to support you,” she said.

Her assumption that he was dependent on Bobby’s largess stuck in his craw. “Oh? How do you know it’s not the other way around? Maybe I’ve been carrying Bobby all these years.”

She gave him a look filled with undisguised skepticism. “Please, Cordell. We both know that Bobby would never depend on you. He got an excellent college education, which I’m sure he’s put to good use.”

Cord could barely suppress a grin at her uppity tone. “Is that so? And just how much do you know about what Bobby’s been doing since you took off? Maybe he’s gotten friendly with Jack Daniels and hasn’t done a lick of work. Wouldn’t be the first time one of the Beaufort men couldn’t hold his liquor.”

She looked a bit flustered by the question. “Are you telling me that your brother is an alcoholic?”

“Nope. Just saying you can’t possibly know one way or the other. You’ve made a lot of assumptions in the last couple of weeks, or am I wrong? Have folks been filling your head with tales, Dinah?”

“No, I haven’t heard anything specific,” she admitted. “But I do know you.”

He shook his head at her confident tone. “Oh, sugar, I wouldn’t be too sure of that. The truth is you don’t have a clue about either one of us. Never have. Never will.”

She regarded him with a huffy expression. “I’ve known you since grade school, Cordell. Bobby was always thoughtful, generous and hardworking. You were an arrogant, smart-alecky kid without a lick of ambition and I don’t see any evidence that you’ve changed a bit.”

He laughed at that. “Then you must not be half the journalist you’re cracked up to be.”

“Meaning what?” she asked, her cheeks pink with indignation.

“That you must have missed all those lessons on objectivity and fact-gathering. You’re making assumptions right and left here.”

“Then set me straight,” she retorted at once.

“Why should I?” he asked. “I think it’s going to be a whole lot more entertaining to let you make a few discoveries all on your own.”