by Sandra Brown
"We don't have to be that ambitious about it," Drake laughed. "We can stand on the bank and do some fly casting from there. How about it?" Drake's smile was dazzling, and Lauri was irritated that he could handle this bizarre situation with such aplomb while she was nervous and edgy.
"Why don't you, dear?" her mother suggested. "You'll be cooped up in meetings for the next three days. This mountain air will do you good."
Andrew slid his thumb and index finger down the bridge of his nose while trying to make up his mind. His eyes alighted on Jennifer, and he reached over and patted her curly head. "Only if Jennifer can come with us," he said. Do you want to go? he signed.
She turned eager eyes to Lauri. She knew well the word go, just as every other child did. Go where, Lauri? she asked, as quickly as her chubby hands could move.
Go fishing, Lauri explained, but she could tell by Jennifer's uncomprehending eyes that the gerund had escaped her.
"You come along, Lauri. It'll be a good lesson for her," Drake said.
"No, I need to stay here with Mo—"
"Don't stay on my account," Alice added quickly, interrupting her. "I'm going to work on some needlepoint I brought along, and then I think I'll indulge in a nap. With the telephone ringing at home all the time, I rarely get a chance to have that luxury."
"Then it's all settled," Drake said, standing up. "Come on, Andrew, let's go check out the equipment. It's all stored in that shed out back."
Andrew needed no further invitation, and he hurried after Drake with Jennifer trotting behind them.
"Lauri dear, you'd better go change clothes. I'll do these dishes," Alice said as she began to clear the table.
"Okay," said Lauri dispiritedly. Things were getting out of hand, and she was powerless to do anything about it.
* * *
She changed into her oldest jeans, and shoes that mud couldn't damage. She picked up a jacket for Jennifer and one for herself, gathered up several old blankets, and went downstairs. Alice had packed cookies, fruit, and cold drinks as well as a Thermos of coffee in a large bag.
"Mother, we're not going to be gone for more than an hour or so," Lauri protested.
"I know. But you know how hungry one gets when out of doors," she defended.
"You're sure you'll be all right?" Lauri asked.
"Goodness, yes! As a matter of fact, I'll enjoy the privacy. All I'll be doing for the next few days is talking."
The four of them waved good-bye to her as they trekked off in the direction of the foothills behind Drake's lead. He was carrying most of the fishing paraphernalia, but Andrew had insisted on doing his share by lugging the blankets and a tackle box. Jennifer was holding a small creel and Bunny, and Lauri toted the snacks her mother had provided.
It wasn't difficult to find a pleasant spot for their outing. The foothills were ablaze with the golden aspens. The fallen leaves rustled under their feet as they walked through the woods. The brook that Drake had chosen gurgled down from the mountain and sparkled in the sunlight as the crystal-clear water gushed over the smooth rocks lining the stream bed. The sky was an azure bowl turned upside down over the earth; the air was crisp and bracing. All in all it was a perfect autumn day.
The two men set about their fishing, though as Drake had predicted, they weren't too ambitious about it. They derived most of their pleasure simply from casting their lines in the stream and reeling them in. Only a few times did they have a small trout attached to the hook, and these they threw back as soon as Jennifer had cautiously inspected them.
She was a glutton for knowledge. She asked Lauri the names for everything, and her tutor was hard pressed to keep up with her insatiable curiosity. The fishing intrigued her, but when Lauri explained that the fish were usually kept and eaten, her bottom lip began to tremble, and Lauri quickly interested her in the antics of a squirrel who was scampering from tree to tree. They had had a lesson on where food and meat came from, but apparently seeing the animal alive made a difference to the child. They would discuss it some other time when Jennifer was less emotionally involved.
The men joined them for a snack and rested on the blankets that Lauri had had the foresight to bring along. When Drake stood up and walked back toward the stream, Andrew said, "I think I've had enough. Why don't I take Jennifer back to the house, and we'll read a book or do something less strenuous."
"I'll go with you," Lauri said quickly.
"No, no," her father said. "I can find my way, and I want to spend some time alone with my granddaughter. You stay here with your husband. I haven't forgotten that you two are on your honeymoon. I know when to make myself scarce."
Andrew winked at Drake, who responded with a devilish grin. Lauri had a strong compulsion to slap him. There was nothing she could do but consent to stay here alone in the woods with him. She buttoned Jennifer's sweater with slow deliberateness, prolonging their imminent departure. Andrew was explaining the autumn leaves to her as they walked off into the trees and left Lauri with Drake.
"Isn't this cozy?" he asked, scooting closer to her on the blanket. "Let's wrap up in the blanket."
She pushed him away with the heels of her hands on his shoulders. "Don't be cute and funny with me. You can drop your character now. There's no one around to view your stunning performance of the loving bridegroom. Please spare me."
"I really bug the hell out of you, don't I?" His face was far too close to hers. She could see the flecks of gold and brown in his green eyes.
"Yes, you do!" she flared.
"You'd better be careful," he warned in a singsong voice and wagged his finger in front of her face. "That's dangerous."
"What are you talking about?"
He clasped her jaw with strong fingers and forced her to look at him. He drew her face even closer. In the merest whisper he said, "If you didn't have the hots for me so bad, I couldn't possibly make you this angry." Before she could retort, he kissed her hard and quick, then hopped to his feet.
She sat there on the blanket and watched as he nonchalantly strolled back to the bank of the stream and picked up the rod and reel. Inwardly she was fuming, but his words had touched a nerve. He was right. Why was she torturing herself? Anger was just one of the emotions he evoked and she displayed them to him far too easily and frequently.
With an elaborate show of indifference she didn't feel, she turned away from him and stretched out on the blanket. Lying on her back. Lauri could feel the sun bathing her face with warmth, and she closed her eyes against its bright rays. He couldn't know that she reveled in remembrances of each kiss, each touch. He couldn't know that her heart pounded whenever she thought about that morning when she had lain naked under his practiced hands and mouth. His hands … his mouth … his eyes.
* * *
She was startled awake when something tickled her ear. She tried to brush it away, but Drake's hand clasped her wrist and held her hand at her chest as he continued to nibble at her ear. His lips moved down her neck, kissing it with brief, elusive kisses that made her lightheaded.
He was lying on his stomach, stretched out behind her in the opposite direction so that they formed a straight line with only their heads overlapping. He pulled the collar of her shirt away to allow him unlimited access to her neck. Unconsciously she arched her throat and provided him more room to explore. At last he raised his head and stared down at her.
"Waking you up is becoming a habit-forming pastime. Even upside down, you're gorgeous," he said.
"And you're a liar. I look terrible. I always do when I first wake up."
"Not true," Drake said seductively. "I thought you were gorgeous the first day I saw you standing there looking terrified – but defiant – beside that prop table."
Lauri laughed, remembering. "You were cruel to … Lois? Is that her name?" He nodded. "You were cruel to her that day when you said she tasted like an anchovy pizza"
"I never said anything of the sort!" He sounded indignant.
"You certainly did. It took Murray�
��" She broke off when she saw that he was teasing her. They both laughed. "I can see where it would be difficult to kiss someone you didn't particularly like and make it appear sincere. I'll never understand how actors do that."
"Oh, you learn that in Kissing One-oh-one," he said. "It's a compulsory course in acting school."
"Really?" she asked naively.
"Sure," he replied boastfully. "Here, sit up a minute." She sat up, and they faced each other on the blanket. "Now," he assumed a professorial voice, "the first kiss you learn is that careless kind given by the negligent or distracted husband. It's usually a near miss. Like this." He demonstrated by kissing the air near her temple. "Or like this," he said, lightly brushing her cheek before quickly turning his head. "It can be used with a little more emotion for welcoming a maiden aunt to the family reunion or greeting a close friend of the family's."
"Is this for real?" she asked dryly.
"Absolutely. We were tested on it."
"A kissing test?"
"I got a perfect score." His teeth gleamed from behind the mustache.
"I'll bet you did."
"Can we get on with the lesson?" he asked in exasperation. She nodded.
"There's the kiss that's hurried and brutal. It's usually motivated by some violent emotion like fear or anger or desperation. It's like this." His fingers bit into the flesh of her upper arms, and she was crushed against him as his lips came down hard on hers.
She was stunned when he pushed her away from him. "See what I mean? The mouth is always closed on that kiss," he said pedantically.
"Thank the Lord for small favors," she mumbled as she tentatively touched her bruised lips.
"The most important kiss, of course, is that of lovers," he continued smoothly. "It takes hours of rehearsal to perfect. It must be convincing. Everyone in the audience must be able to feel that kiss.
"Usually the actor takes the girl in his arms like this." He wrapped her in a warm embrace. 'Then his lips hover over hers until the audience is panting in anticipation of the actual contact. Then the actor—" He didn't finish because his lips had closed over hers. Into the spirit of the game by now, Lauri raised her arms and encircled his neck. His mouth moved against hers but didn't pursue the kiss any further.
He raised his head and pierced her with his green eyes, which stared directly into hers. His voice was hoarse. "Then there's the kiss that says unequivocably, 'Let's cut this foolishness and get on with it.' It goes something like this."
He leaned against her until she fell back on the blanket under his hard body. His tongue tickled the corners of her lips and outlined the bottom one before it explored the sweet hollows of her mouth. She returned the kiss in kind, teasing and sipping and searching until they pulled apart and gasped for air.
"You're not only an excellent student of kissing, you're a good instructor as well," she said unsteadily.
"Only with the most gifted pupils," he grinned.
She weaved the silver-brown strands of his hair through her fingers. "And how many of those have there been?" she asked jealously.
"Thousands, at least." He traced her lips with a provocative finger. "When she was taking some acting classes, Susan—"
His finger stopped its tender torment, and the name hung in the air between them, invisible yet puissant. Onto the green eyes that had been liquid and warm spread a steely, cold glaze. For moments that pulsated with tension, they lay perfectly motionless. Then Drake shifted his weight.
"Maybe we should be getting back," he said, rising from her.
She couldn't reply. The constriction in her throat wouldn't permit even the slightest sound. She nodded in agreement.
They gathered up their things in silence. All the sunlight had been extinguished; Lauri felt plunged into gloom. Susan. Always Susan.
They wended their way down the leaf-strewn path toward the house. Drake tried to make conversation, but when he sensed her withdrawn mood, he gave up the effort.
As they approached the house they saw a compact station wagon parked in the driveway. It was parked beside the Mercedes and the Parrishes' rental car.
"Who can that be?" Drake asked as they walked up the sidewalk.
"I don't know. That's not Betty's car."
Drake opened the door and ushered her through. She was met with the lightning flash of a camera. Stunned and momentarily blinded by the bright light, she recoiled and sought the strong support of Drake's chest. Impulsively his arms went around her waist.
"What the hell?" he exclaimed.
The camera flashed again.
"That should be enough for now, son. Let them get in the house at least," Andrew admonished.
When their eyes had adjusted to the dim interior of the house, and the bright purple spots before them had faded to a pale yellow, Lauri and Drake could see the young man who wielded the camera. He was dressed in jeans and jogging shoes, incongruously teamed with a sport jacket, sport shirt, and a necktie.
"Hi, Mr. Sloan. I'm Bob Scott with The Scoop Sheet. Boy, this is great!" His permed hair was bouncing like a giant sponge on his head as he bobbed excitedly.
Lauri had no idea why this young man was here in the company of her parents and Jennifer, who was sitting in Andrew's lap and watching the proceedings with avid interest. Lauri was, however, familiar with the publication that Bob Scott named. It was a weekly magazine that was sold by the millions in grocery and convenience stores across the country. It bore lurid headlines that slanted stories, often to the detriment of their subjects. The editors relished uncovered scandals, secrets, and indiscretions. What was he doing here?
As the excited man put the camera to his eye again, Drake dictated, "Will you put that" – he broke off his descriptive word with a swift glance toward Andrew and Alice – "will you put down that camera and kindly tell me what you're doing in my house?"
For the first time some of the exuberance went out of Bob Scott's demeanor. Lauri wasn't surprised. Drake's expression would have intimidated Attila the Hun.
"I – uh – well, sir, I've been tracking you for weeks. There's been all sorts of speculation about why you're not on the set of The Heart's Answer. That producer or director or whatever the hell he is – Murray? – well, he wouldn't tell me anything. He's as silent as a corpse. I finally dragged it out of a cameraman that you came here to New Mexico to spend some time with your daughter. I got on your trail – airport, rental car, that kind of thing – and found you here today."
"Well, now that you've found me, what do you want to know?" Drake had learned long ago that these scandal-sheet reporters could be tenacious and that, if one didn't humor them, they could be vicious.
"Well, jeez, you gotta admit that news of your marriage will knock everyone on their ass!" He grinned, but only met Drake's stony stare. Realizing he'd gone too far, he gulped and mumbled, "Excuse me, ladies," addressing Alice and Lauri.
Lauri was incredulous. How could this have happened? Surely Drake would deny their relationship, but then what would she tell her parents?
Alice stood up and came over to Drake, placing a beseeching hand on his arm. "Drake, I hope that you're not upset with me. He came to the house soon after you left. He was talking so fast and asking so many questions that before I knew it, I had blurted out the fact that you and Lauri were married. I know you said you had planned to keep it a secret for a while." Her voice began to quiver. "I'm sorry—"
"Here, now," Drake said moving around Lauri and placing a comforting arm around Alice's shoulders. "I know how reporters can be when they're on the trail of an exclusive story. You've saved me the trouble of having to notify the press myself"
Had Lauri not loved him already, she would have loved him then. He could just as easily have berated her mother, for under that calm facade, she knew he must be furious with the turn of events.
Bob Scott looked somewhat relieved by Drake's more relaxed manner and said, "If I may say so, you sure picked a good-looking chick to marry, Mr. Sloan." He winked at Lauri, w
ho still hadn't culled enough mental fortitude to react to what was happening.
"You may say so, but keep it under wraps," Drake growled, and lowered his brows over his eyes in an exaggerated warning. "I'd like to keep her to myself for a while." He was using his acting skills again. The young, audacious reporter was eating out of his hand now.
"I take it you've met my wife's parents?" Drake asked courteously. Bob Scott nodded. "And this is my daughter, Jennifer." Drake lifted the child up in his arms and patted her back lovingly.
"We all knew you had a little girl somewhere, but you've always steered us away from her. Is that because she's deaf?"
Lauri gasped and expected Drake to grind his balled fist into the reporter's face. Instead, only she saw the muscle in his jaw twitch as he answered smoothly. "No. I wanted to protect her from members of the media who may not be as sensitive as you. Mr. Scott. I didn't put her in a private boarding school because I was ashamed of her."
The reporter licked his lips nervously and said, "Well, jeez, Mr. Sloan. I didn't – I mean—"
"Say hello to Bob," Drake said, interrupting the stammering reporter as he signed the instruction to Jennifer.
Jennifer responded sweetly, smiling that angelic smile that captivated anyone who was graced with it. Bob Scott asked, "How do I say hi back?"
Drake showed him, and Jennifer laughed when he awkwardly made the sign. Go sit by Grandpa, Drake signed to her as he put her down beside him and patted her on the bottom as she obeyed. When he straightened up, he said, "And this is Lauri. She was Jennifer's teacher." He came to stand beside her and puts possessive arm around her waist, drawing her against him.
"Jeez. Can you tell me how you met?"
Drake embroidered the story outrageously, but told it so glibly and with just the right amount of poignancy that she almost believed the lies herself. When he had finished, the reporter asked, "Can I take some more pictures?"
"Only a few, and then I'm going to have to ask you to leave. The Parrishes are going to Santa Fe this afternoon, and we want to spend as much time as possible with them."