by Jan Freed
Sam’s gaze followed her to the kitchen. That was one fine-looking woman. One of the few close to his age who looked as good going as she did coming.
“Whatcha starin’ at Mrs. Polk for?” Jason asked.
Sam’s face heated.
“You must really like chocolate cake, huh?”
“It’s one of my favorites.” Chocolate gave him hives.
Jason slurped again. “Mine, too. Come on. The living room’s over here.”
They entered a large room with a monochromatic color scheme ranging from pale cream to dark sand. Sam’s experienced eye estimated the cost of elaborate custom draperies, Italian marble coffee table, matching camelback sofas and porcelain geegaws scattered about with a decorator’s strategic touch. No expense spared.
Alec had given up some major bucks by leaving Harris, Bates and Whitman Advertising. Sam’s respect rose another notch.
Heading for the sofa, he tossed his cap down, sat forward and grasped his knees. His arrival must’ve interrupted the kid’s play. Those interlocking plastic things dotted the cream carpet like primary-colored confetti.
Jason plopped down with his back to Sam, lifted a jagged block of plastic and attached another square to the mass.
“Nice house you’ve got here. Lot’s of room for a boy to stretch his legs,” Sam observed.
The small hands stilled.
“Bet you could play hide-and-seek all day and never be found.”
The slender shoulders curled forward in a protective posture.
Sam frowned. What was the matter? Oh, hell.
Nice going, jackass. The boy was locked in a tiny liquor cabinet, and you’re talkin’ hide-and-seek.
He searched for a way to redeem himself. “You know, son, I grew up in a house not much bigger than this one room. Had to share a bedroom with four brothers. Sometimes at night, lyin’ in the dark, the walls would close in on me till I thought I’d suffocate.”
Head down, Jason cocked his ear. “What’s suff... suffa...?”
“I couldn’t breathe. Felt like I was gonna choke or throw up. You ever felt like that?”
The slim body curled tighter.
“Well, anyway, when that happened, I used to play a little game in my head.” Sam tensed.
Jason lifted his gaze. “What kind of game?” Wariness warred with hope in his turbulent blue eyes.
Sam released his breath. Please, Lord, don’t let me screw this up.
“Well, now, I’d close my eyes and picture this great big wide-open field of bluebonnets I saw once at my granddaddy’s farm. You ever seen bluebonnets, son?”
Enthralled, Jason shook his head.
“Guess not, you livin’ overseas, an’ all. Prettiest little flower you ever did see, though. Texas is loaded with ‘em in the spring. Our highway department seeds the—”
“What’d you do then?”
“Uh...when?”
“After you thought about the field?”
“Oh. Well, I pictured myself sitting smack-dab in the field, breathin’ clean fresh air and liftin’ my face to the sun. And pretty soon, darned if I couldn’t breathe easy again and fall asleep.”
Jason turned the plastic block around and around in his hands.
Sam flipped on his cap and pulled down the brim. “Anyone can do it, you know, not just me. Let’s say you got to feelin’ bad at night or something. Why, you could picture a field of bluebonnets and put yourself in the middle.”
The boy shot Sam a skeptical look. “I never seen bluebonnets. ‘Sides, you had brothers. It’s easier when you’re not alone.”
Poor kid. “You can do anything you want in your head. I’ll show you. Close your eyes.”
Thick dark lashes squeezed shut and trembled.
“Okay, pick a special place. Someplace that makes you feel happy and good. Then picture it in your head. Got it?”
Jason’s lips curved up a little. He nodded.
“Now, pick a special person. Someone who makes you feel happy and good. Then put that person with you in your special place. Got it?”
Breaking into a half smile, Jason nodded.
“So guess what? You’re not alone now. And you don’t ever have to be scared or alone again, ‘cause you can always go to your special place. Heck, I still go to mine sometimes.”
Jason opened his eyes slowly. Shining wonder evolved into a smile so joyful Sam’s heart expanded like a helium balloon.
Jason redirected his smile over Sam’s shoulder. “Mrs. Polk, you shoulda been here! Sam showed me how to go to a special place in my head,” he explained in an awed voice.
Cringing, Sam swung around. Evelyn stood in the doorway balancing a tray of cake slices.
“I heard,” she admitted, looking straight at Sam.
He caught his breath at the soft glowing admiration in her eyes. No woman had looked at him like that since...well, since Jenny.
He felt marvelous, invincible, capable of taking on anything the world wanted to sling in his path. He rose and hurried to Evelyn’s side.
“Here, let me help you with that,” he offered, taking the tray from her unprotesting hands.
“Why thank you, Mr. Parker. That’s very thoughtful.”
“Sam. Please, call me Sam.”
“All right...Sam.” Blushing prettily, she patted her smooth silver hair. “And please, call me Evelyn.”
* * *
MORNING SUNLIGHT streamed through Brenda Lee’s dining-alcove window and lit the glass tabletop. Laura picked up two bottles of nail polish and sighed. Alec had virtually ignored her since the night of the baseball game last weekend, and there was only herself to blame. Would he be as aloof tonight at Sam’s party?
She sighed again, this time with more gusto.
Brenda Lee looked up from applying red polish. “Are you going to make a decision on that polish before Christmas?”
“Well, excuuuse me. You know I’m fashion disabled. So what do you think? Should I go with Cinnamon Spice or Apricot Kiss?”
“Cinnamon Spice. I’ve got some lipstick that’ll match it perfectly. Remind me to give you the tube before you leave.” Brenda Lee scowled at her own perfect nails. “I can’t believe Alec’s not taking you to the party.”
Laura shuddered to think what her friend would say about her hands-off warning to Alec.
“He’s got more willpower than brains, that’s for sure. Thank goodness Harold doesn’t have the same problem.”
Laura pounced on the change of subject. “Okay, that’s it. Spit out those canary feathers and talk. Just what exactly did happen the night you and Harold stayed late working on the Sanders proposal?”
Brenda Lee’s eyes widened. “Why nothin’, sugar. I was looking for a ream of copy paper when he came into the storage closet to ask me a question. Could I help it if the door accidently shut behind him?”
Chuckling, Laura shook her head. This fragile Southern belle had all the subtlety of a bulldozer. But then, who was Laura to criticize methods that worked? She’d blown it big time with Alec on the stairs that night. Frightened of being rejected, she hadn’t seized her chance to expand their relationship, consequences be damned.
“Harold and I want you to ride with us to Sam’s. Now don’t argue. It doesn’t make sense for us to take two cars when we live next door to each other.”
“Why do I think Harold might disagree?”
“We’ve already talked it over. We can’t really party hearty on Sunday, so it’s settled. You’ll ride with us, okay?”
Laura didn’t really want to walk into the party by herself.
“Are you sure Harold won’t mind?”
“Mind? Honey, with the dress you’re wearing tonight, I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t dump me and take you, instead.”
With one last stroke, she capped her polish and inspected her spread fingers. Apparently satisfied, she shot Laura a mischievous glance.
“Besides, there’s always the chance Alec will offer to take you home.”
The
tiny nail-polish brush in Laura’s fingers wavered.
“Here now,” Brenda Lee murmured, taking Laura’s wrist. “Let me do that before you mess up. I’m through with mine.”
Laura relinquished the job thankfully and took a steadying breath. Sam had invited Regency Hotels’ top management to the party, as well as many of his personal friends. She wanted to make him proud. She wanted to look beautiful.
Who was she kidding? She wanted to make Alec jealous.
There, she’d admitted it. She would flirt with every man at the party except him. Childish, yes. But she’d been raised by men and knew how their minds worked. The toy someone else wanted was always worth fighting for. It made possession that much sweeter. And she intended to make Alec both want, and possess, her tonight.
Fingers of warmth traced lightly over her belly.
Brenda Lee made short work of Laura’s last four nails, then sat back and leveled a stern look. “For heaven’s sake don’t do dishes or anything for a couple of hours. Now, did you get the stuff I told you about?”
“Yes, and they cost a fortune, too. I don’t know what’s so special about them.”
Brenda Lee smiled wisely. “You’ll see when you put them on. What about a handbag? Did you find one at Dillard’s?”
“Yes. Shoes, too.”
“Let me see them.”
Laura led the way to her own apartment. She wasn’t offended by Brenda Lee’s manner. Having different strengths and sharing them made their friendship stron-ger.
By the time Brenda Lee left, Laura had received a refresher course in makeup, hairstyle, perfume, jewelry—even lingerie. This process of dressing to kill would be the death of her!
When her digital clock finally flipped to five o’clock, Laura washed her hair, shaved her legs and dusted herself from head to toe in her favorite talcum powder.
Oh Mama, is this how you felt dressing up for Dad?
She closed her eyes and inhaled the lavender scent, remembering the day she’d found a frosted purple glass container in her father’s bathroom cabinet. She’d been about seven at the time—old enough to know such a thing didn’t belong to her rugged father. Curious, she’d lifted the lid and sniffed. The sensation of being held in soft loving arms had overwhelmed her, and she’d swallowed back tears.
She’d used her mother’s brand of talcum every day since becoming a teenager.
Laura opened her eyes and glanced at the clock. Where had the time gone? She quickly applied makeup, then coaxed her hair into the windblown tumbled style she’d been taught. On impulse, she lifted a mass of locks next to her left ear and secured it high on her head with a gold comb. Not bad. Now the violet-and-amber rhinestone earrings showed to advantage. With a final uncertain glance in the mirror, she left the relative safety of her bathroom. The moment of reckoning had arrived.
Laura slipped off her robe and and stepped into a triangle of cream silk and lace. Next came the ivory garter belt, followed by sheer nylons shimmering with golden highlights. Brenda Lee had been right. The filmy underwear did make her feel more desirable. With trembling fingers, she opened her small closet, reached for her dress and slipped it off the hanger.
Stepping into the satin lining, she eased up the delicate fabric inch by breathless inch. Brenda Lee had insisted the dress didn’t require a bra. Laura wished for one just the same. Feeling strangely vulnerable, she inserted her arms through the sleeves and leaned over to settle her breasts in the proper position. Straightening, she viewed herself in the full-length closet-door mirror.
The décolleté dress consisted entirely of gold stretch lace. Its scalloped sweetheart neckline plunged deep enough to show cleavage, but just short of looking sleazy. She hoped. Long tight sleeves of sheer gold lace reminded her of an old-fashioned wedding gown. In contrast, the body-hugging fabric stopped with modern boldness a good six inches above her knees.
She’d never worn anything remotely like it in her life.
The doorbell rang, interrupting her agonized last-minute doubts. “Just a minute,” she yelled, slipping on gold leather heels before walking to the door. “Who is it?”
“It’s Harold. Your coach is waiting.”
Smiling, she flung open the door.
Harold gaped, then let out a low wolf whistle.
“Down, boy,” came a wry voice from behind his broad shoulders. Brenda Lee pushed Harold aside to look Laura over.
Laura looked back. The sleeveless black chiffon sheath, elegant on its own, was stunning against Brenda Lee’s white skin, platinum hair and curvy body. Her French twist was inspired. Just the touch of Grace Kelly class Harold would appreciate.
“I hate you,” Laura said.
“I hate you more.”
Both women burst out laughing. Brenda Lee glanced at Harold’s bewildered expression and patted his arm.
“It’s a girl thing, sugar. Don’t try to understand.”
Laura picked up her beaded clutch purse, locked the front door and followed the pair to Harold’s Mercedes. They made a lovely couple, Harold’s polished good looks and custom-tailored tuxedo a perfect foil for Brenda Lee’s petite blond beauty. When he handed her into the car as if she were a piece of Dresden china, Laura suppressed a stab of envy. Just because her own love life was pitiful didn’t mean she wasn’t truly happy for her friend.
Sam lived in the heart of Memorial, a prestigious subdivision of towering pines and gorgeous homes. Brenda Lee exclaimed at the glimpses of softly lit paradise they passed, then gawked as they turned onto Brown Saddle Drive.
“Sam said it was valet parking,” Laura volunteered from the back seat, growing queasier by the minute.
Harold followed a BMW up a bricked circular drive and waited his turn. The Mercedes advanced in line and rolled to a stop. Laura’s door opened and a white-gloved valet reached in to help her out. She managed to stand without fainting.
Why had she worn this dress?
Harold held out an arm to each woman and escorted them to the door. As he rang the bell, Brenda Lee caught Laura’s eye.
“You look fabulous,” she mouthed, giving her a thumbs-up.
Laura felt a strengthening rush of determination. No more pulling back. She would stop behaving like a schoolgirl and respond like a woman to this attraction between her and Alec.
But first, she would make him suffer.
* * *
HE HATED CHAMPAGNE. He hated wearing a monkey suit and making small talk with people he didn’t know, would never see again. Come to think of it, he hated everything these days.
And it was all Laura’s fault.
Alec’s gaze swept the room, searching for a glimpse of chestnut hair. Where the hell was she, anyway?
He’d taken a dozen women to bed since his divorce, but had never gotten within ten feet emotionally. Damn this need to see Laura, speak to her, be with her. If only he’d imagined the heart-stopping look she’d given him for praising her beauty. If only he hadn’t heard her intimate confession. Maybe then he wouldn’t long to be a shoulder she could lean on, a lover she could trust to repair her damaged self-image.
Sam beckoned from across the living room. Alec headed for the black marble fireplace, where the older man stood surrounded by a cluster of Regency Hotels employees.
“We’ll be ready for the onslaught of calls in Reservations, Mr. Parker,” a sandy-haired young man promised. “Don’t worry about our department.”
An attractive brunette placed her hand on Sam’s arm. “Wonderful party. Just what the troops needed for morale. But I think we should personally check out the buffet and give you a report later.”
Her companions laughingly agreed, and the group drifted off as Alec moved up to replace them.
He was startled to see Evelyn Polk, resplendent in a blue dress with silver beads, standing at Sam’s side. His hand rested at the small of her back, and her warm brown eyes glowed with happiness.
The couple had met a week ago at Alec’s house. When had their relationship progressed to th
is point? “Evelyn, how nice to see you here. You look lovely as usual.”
“Get your own date, Alec. This one’s mine.” Sam slid his hand up Evelyn’s back to drape possessively over her shoulder.
She blushed and made a shooing motion. “Oh, you two must want some of my devil’s food cake to flatter me so. Jason could have told you it won’t work.” Her eyes lit with fondness. “Who’s watching the little scamp tonight, Alec?”
“He’s sleeping over at his friend Joey Thompson’s house. Couldn’t get rid of me fast enough to see that new puppy, Biscuit. The only thing Jason would have liked better is staying at your house.”
“Smart boy,” Sam said, his sexual nuance clear.
The two exchanged a radiant look. Apparently Sam had found someone worthy of replacing Jenny in his affections. Alec experienced a sharp pang of longing. He could be standing here with Laura, if only he’d asked her.
“Where’s Laura?” Sam asked. “I thought she’d be with you.”
Alec felt his face heat. “I...I haven’t seen her.” He cleared his throat and scrambled for a new topic. “You’ve really outdone yourself. Everything looks great.”
And it did, he realized. The house was a sprawling ranch style, filled with open space and floor-to-ceiling windows. The draperies were open to reveal a beautifully landscaped backyard dominated by a free-form pool.
“It’s been fun throwing a party,” Sam admitted. “But then, the caterers did most of the work. ‘Cept for the spinach dip. Made that myself.”
Alec cocked an eyebrow.
“Swear to God. It’s next to the lobster. Taste it and tell me what you think. But be prepared to lie.”
Alec was heading for the dining room when a flurry at the front door caught his attention. Harold and Brenda Lee stood in the foyer, creating quite a stir by arriving as a couple. Good God, when on earth had that happened? The petite blonde looked radiantly happy, but no more so than Harold, Alec noted. Longing seized him again. He started to look away, only to be riveted by a pair of tawny eyes staring from behind Brenda Lee.
It was just like the day Laura had barged into his office at Harris, Bates and Whitman. Only then his heart hadn’t pumped like a runaway locomotive.