by Sandra Brown
She pulled her arm away with a quick jerk. "Don't ever pity me, my family, or my sister, Mr. Rivington."
"I—"
"My sister is a beautiful woman. She's an accountant."
"I—"
"She is married and lives with her two lovely sons and her successful husband in Lincoln, Nebraska. Believe me, she knows more about the real values of life than you'll ever know." Her face was flushed with anger, and her chest rose and fell in agitation. The brown eyes that flashed with russet lights were fiery as they smote the man standing so close, he could feel the heat of rage radiating from her.
"Are you finished?" he asked dryly.
She drew several deep breaths and lowered her eyes. His had softened and were more threatening this way than when they were glinting ferociously.
"I wasn't implying pity," he said. "Rather, admiration and respect. Okay?" Her breath caught in her throat when he placed his finger under her chin and tilted her head back. "I've changed my earlier opinion. I think you're exactly what Jennifer needs. What I need."
His words were spoken in the barest whisper. The halls had cleared of students and faculty, and there was an aura of intimacy surrounding them. The expression what I need could mean something entirely different in another context. Lauri's heart had responded to that accidental choice of words and was pounding as though demanding release from her chest.
He was too close; the room was growing too dark; the building was too quiet; his breath was too fragrant; and the fingers still holding her chin were too firm and confident. Lauri was choking on her own sensations. Breathing became an overwhelming task. She tried to pull her chin away, but he wouldn't let her. He forced her to look up at him before he said, "You want to take the job."
It wasn't a question. He knew she longed for the challenges and rewards of bringing Jennifer out of her silent world and introducing her to a new one.
"Don't you?" he persisted.
"Yes," she breathed. What was she conceding? Was he leaning toward her or was that her imagination? It must have been, because he released her an instant later and reached for her blazer, draped across the back of the chair. "Let's go get something to eat."
As she shrugged into the jacket he held for her, he asked, "Have you shrunk? You were taller than this the other day."
She blushed slightly to think he had noticed and remembered her height. She grinned up at him engagingly. "I've started wearing sensible shoes." He ran his eyes down the white linen dress, now covered by the navy blazer, to the navy sandals that were much lower-heeled than the shoes she had worn to the television studio.
"Well, I'll be damned. So you have." Ruefully he ran his hand through the silver-brown hair and then laughed out loud as they went down the hall.
* * *
He had no trouble hailing a cab, and directed the driver to the Russian Tea Room. "Is that okay with you?" he asked as they settled in the backseat of the taxi.
"Yes, I love that restaurant," she answered honestly. When they arrived, the maître d' led them upstairs to the more secluded dining room and seated Lauri with obsequious courtesy. She was with Drake Sloan, and apparently that counted for something.
She had noticed several heads turning in recognition as they walked in, and she was suddenly self-conscious in the clothes she had been wearing at school all day.
She hadn't considered this a date, and therefore hadn't asked that she be taken home to change before going to dinner.
"I'm sorry I'm not more dressed up. I didn't think I'd be going out tonight."
He shrugged and said, "You look fine," and buried his head in the menu.
Thanks for nothing, Lauri thought as she opened her menu. A few seconds later she heard him chuckle. She looked up to see him watching her. His green eyes were squinting with humor.
"What's so funny?"
"You are. When I tell you you're beautiful, you get mad. And when I don't tell you you're beautiful, you get mad. You'd better watch that expressive face, Ms. Parrish." He lowered his voice and leaned over the table closer to her. "Everyone else does, I can assure you."
She took that as a compliment and saluted him with the Perrier that he had ordered for her. They sipped their drinks – his was a martini – as they commented on the ambience of the dining room. Its dark green walls, deep red trim, and brass appointments radiated elegance without ostentation.
They decided on chicken Kiev and rice. In a few short minutes the waiter arrived with an appetizer of smoked salmon, caviar, boiled eggs, and various relishes. Unselfconsciously Drake began eating with enthusiasm.
"Wait," Lauri said. "You'll have a lesson first." Much to his irritation she made him learn the sign for everything on his plate and all the implements on the table before she would let him continue eating. At one point she laughed. "If there's a sign for caviar, I don't know it. For the time being we'll just spell it out," she said.
Conversation was light throughout the meal. When the table had been cleared and they were sipping cups of coffee, Drake broached the subject of Jennifer.
"You are going to accept the job as her private tutor, aren't you?"
She looked down at the table and drew a pattern on the white linen cloth with the handle of her spoon. "I'm still not sure, Drake."
"What can I do to make you sure?" There was a teasing quality in his voice, but his face was set in serious lines.
"You can promise me that you'll enroll in a sign language class and begin using it constantly. Start thinking in sign, even as you do in English. If I take the job, I'll be Jennifer's surrogate mother for a while. She will depend on me for everything. Someday, you'll have to take over those responsibilities. Will you be ready for them?"
"I'll try to be. I promise to try," he said solemnly. He leaned over the table, worry causing a deep furrow between his brows. "Lauri, what can I expect from Jennifer? What will she be like when she grows up?" It was a vulnerable, concerned father who faced her now.
She saw the familiar pain in his eyes, that longing to know what even the most learned experts couldn't guess. Every parent of a deaf child asked that question.
Lauri measured her words. "She's very bright, Drake. She knows more than she expresses. I think her deficiency is emotional, not mental. I'll incorporate every method of teaching I know. She'll learn sign for basic communication, but at the same time she'll learn the alphabet just as every child does. And she'll learn the sound a particular letter makes. Her hearing aid will help her distinguish speech sounds and patterns. Eventually she'll be able to talk." When she saw his eyes light up with hope, she qualified her last statement. "I want you to understand, Drake, that she'll always be deaf. She'll never hear things like we do. Her hearing aid isn't a corrective device, it's an amplifier."
"I've been told that, but I can't understand it," he admitted.
"Okay," Lauri said. "I'll try to explain. Eyeglasses are for correction. You put on your prescription glasses and you have twenty-twenty vision. The hearing aid only amplifies what Jennifer is capable of hearing in the first place. Suppose you were listening to a radio, but there was nothing but static. If you turned up the volume, you wouldn't hear anything more clearly. You would hear a louder distortion. Does that help?"
He tapped the beautiful white teeth under his mustache with his thumbnail. "Yes. I see what you mean."
"I want Jennifer to know everything. If I took her to the park and demonstrated the verb to run, she would learn it and understand it, but that's all that word would mean to her. I want her to know what it means to get a run in her stocking, to run up a bill, to be tired and run down. See?"
"She'll be able to learn that?"
"Only if we teach her, Drake. We've got to talk to her – sign – constantly, just as any child should be talked to constantly. Ellen, my sister, has developed lip-reading and speech so well that she seldom even uses sign anymore."
"Jennifer will be able to speak that well?"
"Never as we do," she emphasized. "She'll never
hear as we do, so she won't speak as we do. As an actor, you've experienced times when you knew your words of dialogue but couldn't get them out."
"Yeah."
"That's how it is with the deaf all the time. Each word is a struggle. But with proper training and patience, they become quite proficient. Don't expect too much and then you won't be disappointed."
He stared down at his hands, which were now folded on the table. Lauri felt such compassion that she longed to cover those hands with hers and speak words of comfort. Somehow she had to reassure him. "Jennifer can already say my name."
He looked up then and smiled proudly. "Doctor Norwood told me that you two were forming quite an attachment."
It was hard for Lauri to ignore the strings that tugged at her heart each time she entered a room and Jennifer looked up and smiled one of her rare smiles. She felt the same way now as she gazed into Drake's eyes, which looked like liquid emeralds. It was becoming very difficult to remain objective. And that, she knew, was a dangerous situation.
* * *
Chapter 3
«^»
From the time they left their table until they climbed into the taxi the maître d' had called for them, three different women stopped Drake and begged for autographs.
Lauri was amazed that he could shift his mood so quickly and thoroughly. One minute he had been a confused, concerned parent. The next, he was a confident, arrogant television star, totally in control and in his element as he flashed that famous smile to his adoring public. He spoke to each woman softly, intimately.
The privacy be lent to each conversation must make that woman feel that he actually cared for her. Was he sincere or was he playing a role? It was a disturbing conjecture, and one that Lauri didn't want to dwell on.
"Does that ever get old?" she asked, indicating the mesmerized woman on the sidewalk. The ardent fan was still clutching to her bosom the napkin that now bore the name Drake Sloan.
"Yes, very. I try to play down the star syndrome and handle the ladies with patience and forbearance. I ask myself, 'Where would I be without them?' That usually puts their ardor into perspective."
Lauri had asked him to return her to the school, as she had some papers there she needed to pick up before going to her apartment a few blocks away.
"Good," Drake said. "I wanted to see Jennifer for a minute anyway."
Lauri quickly checked the gold watch on her wrist. "But it's after nine o'clock. She'll already be asleep."
"Then we'll have to wake her up," he explained blithely.
"Don't any rules apply to you, Mr. Rivington?"
He laughed. "A few. Doctor Norwood knows that sometimes I work at the studio until eight or nine o'clock, depending on the miasma Doctor Hambrick has managed to make of his life that week. So she lets me sneak in a few nights a week to spend some time with Jennifer."
Lauri used her key to let them in a private door that was set to lock automatically after daylight hours. They tiptoed down the shadowed hallway of the dormitory till they reached the room that Jennifer shared with three other little girls her age.
Drake allowed Lauri to precede him into the room, but she stood back when he sat down next to the sleeping child on the bed. He switched on the dim lamp on the bedside table and tapped Jennifer lightly on the shoulder. The child stirred, then opened her eyes and saw Drake leaning over her. She gurgled with joy and sat up instantly, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.
Lauri hadn't known what to expect, but it certainly wasn't this spontaneous reaction from the child who was usually so constrained and stoic.
"How's daddy's girl, huh? Are you happy to see me?" The question was rhetorical. Jennifer was snuggling against his broad chest while he ruffled her blond curls.
This was yet another Drake Rivington. His features had softened and left no trace of the cynicism that curled his mouth and veiled his eyes. They sparkled with a glow of love when he looked down at his daughter.
When the initial kisses and caresses were dispensed with, Jennifer began searching through his pockets with her tiny fingers and giggling as he playfully shoved them away. Finally she triumphantly produced a package of chewing gum and began unwrapping it.
"Wait a minute, young lady. You can't have that now," Drake said. Then he shrugged and said, "I guess you can," as she successfully peeled the paper from one of the sticks of gum.
"No, she can't," Lauri said quietly but firmly. Drake looked up at her, but, of course, Jennifer hadn't heard this pronouncement. She was just about to pop the chewing gum in her mouth when Lauri thumped the end of the bed to get the child's attention.
Jennifer looked up at her and smiled. Lauri smiled back and signed, Hello, Jennifer. What is my name?
Jennifer signed Lauri's name and spoke a facsimile of it in a timid, soft voice. Drake's mouth opened in surprise.
"Sweetheart, that's wonderful," he cried, hugging the little girl closer to him. Jennifer basked in the obvious show of approval from the tall wonderful man who came to her room periodically and gave her special attention. He never talked to the other girls. Only her.
Lauri took advantage of the situation. Getting Jennifer's attention again, she said, "This is Drake," and showed Jennifer the sign for his name that they'd invented. "I'm not sure she understands family relationships yet. We'll have a lesson soon on father and daughter. For the time being, you'll be simply Drake," Lauri explained.
Jennifer made the sign for Drake's name and pointed to him. "Yes," Lauri said, nodding her head. Proudly Jennifer repeated her motions until it turned into a game, and all three of them were laughing. When she started to put the temporarily forgotten gum in her mouth, Lauri stopped her with a gentle tug on her arm. Using what communication devices she thought Jennifer could understand, she conveyed that they would leave it on the bedside table until she woke up.
Hopefully Jennifer looked to Drake for support, but he shook his head, placed the package of gum on the table, and made the sign for sleep, which he had noticed Lauri using moments before.
Jennifer yawned and lay back down on the pillow. She looked like an angel with her blond hair and frilly pink nightgown. She clung to Drake's neck as he tried to pull away. He kissed her quickly on the forehead and stood up. Just before he switched off the lamp, Jennifer looked to the foot of the bed and extended her chubby arms to Lauri.
Lauri looked at Drake, who was smiling tenderly. "I think that's eloquent enough," he said. She went to the side of the bed and leaned down for Jennifer's wet, enthusiastic kiss.
They tucked her in for the night, turned out the light, and left the room. Lauri took a few steps, then stopped. Her mind was so full, she couldn't seem to think and walk at the same time. She stood still in the middle of the hallway.
"I think the two of you have just put me through emotional blackmail," she mused.
"That was our intention." Drake's voice echoed her soft, serious tone.
Lauri looked up at him. She spoke her thoughts aloud. "She loves you. You'll be separating yourself from her by moving her across the country. She's very young. Right now you are the most important person in her life. Drake, do you realize that I'll replace you in her affections?"
He looked down the deserted hall, staring at nothing as he slipped his hands into the pockets of his slacks. "Yes," he said, hardening his jaw. "I hate it. If there were any other way – I don't want her to grow up in the city. I can't do for her right now what you can." Then he faced her. Tm giving you a tremendous amount of responsibility, I know. But I think it's the right thing to do. I'll come to see her whenever I possibly can." He grinned wryly. "I don't lead near the decadent lifestyle the magazines say I do."
She extended her hand in a businesslike manner. "I accept the position you offer." He shook her hand.
* * *
He insisted on seeing her to her door when they arrived at the comfortable – but far from luxurious – apartment building. He paid the cab fare, saying he would hail another after seeing her safely insid
e.
As they rode the elevator up to her floor he said, "I think I can make all the arrangements in about two weeks time. Will that be enough for you?" At her nod he continued. "The house is nice, nothing fancy. I'll buy a car to be delivered to you upon your arrival in Albuquerque. Someone will have been hired to thoroughly clean the house. When you get to Whispers, everything should be ready for you and Jennifer to move right in."
"Whispers. I like the name." His hand was under her elbow as he ushered her out the elevator. He didn't remove it.
"It's a quaint town. A lot of retired people live there, a few mine workers and their families. It's quiet and peaceful. The scenery is gorgeous in every season."
They were standing in front of her door now. Drake said, "I'll pay you whatever the school does. Then of course, you'll have the house and car at your disposal. And I'll give you a generous allowance for food, clothing for Jennifer, whatever you need."
"I'm not worried about money," she said as she inserted the key in the lock.
She turned to tell him a civil good night, but the words were never formed. He moved forward until she was forced to step backward in retreat, until she could go no farther. She was against the wall of the hallway, and he placed his palms flat on either side of her just above her head and leaned toward her. Only inches separated them, but he didn't touch her.
"I like you this way," he whispered.
What had happened to her voice? She couldn't utter the words that came to mind. Finally she managed to gasp "What way?"
"Quiet and congenial and cooperative. But then" – he chuckled – "I liked you the other day, when you were breathing fire at me and so furious that your hair glowed like a torch." He moved even closer. "In fact, Ms. Parrish, I'm trying damn hard to find something I don't like about you."
Instinct told her he was going to kiss her. She knew she shouldn't allow it but was powerless to move as she watched his face come nearer hers. A heartbeat before his lips met hers, she closed her eyes. Though she had known it was going to happen, she wasn't prepared for the onslaught of emotions that rioted through her body at his touch.