Words of Seduction

by Dara Girard

  “This would be different.”

  Suzanne slowly turned to him. “How?” she said bitterly. “I didn’t marry Wallace for love, either.”

  He closed the distance between them. “I’ll never cheat on you. I’ll never shame you.” He touched her face. “And it may be a loveless marriage, but it won’t be a passionless one.” He lowered his voice. “Trust me. Don’t think. Just say yes.”

  “Rick! Suzanne!” Mandy called from the bottom of the stairs. “Aren’t you coming?”

  “What’s your answer?” Rick’s dark eyes pierced hers with a magnetic intensity that held her captive.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “Mandy’s waiting.”

  “Let her wait.”

  She turned to the door and shouted, “We’ll be there.” Then she looked at Rick and said, “Please give me time,” before running down the stairs, desperate to break his invisible hold.

  Suzanne had to hide her shock when she saw the condition of the pond. She hadn’t looked at it since her return. It was overgrown with weeds and the top of the water was covered with a thin film of plankton or some other form of water life. Initially she couldn’t see anything living, then Luke screamed out with excitement.

  “Look! Look! I see a tadpole!” His enthusiasm only grew after that. They spent another hour at the pond where he pointed out all the living creatures he could find. There were the three large bullfrogs sitting on a giant stone in the middle of the pond, a harmless garden snake that slithered over his shoes, a pod of tadpoles, several large goldfish, which had somehow survived the neglect, and dragonflies jumping on the water lilies, which her mother had planted, to make the unsightly pond, as she referred to it, more “presentable.”

  “It’s time to go,” Rick said.

  Luke turned to his father, upset. “Already?”

  “Yes.”

  Suzanne tickled him under his chin before he could argue. “Don’t worry, the pond is all yours now.” She stood and walked toward the house. “Come on.”

  He ran up to her and grabbed her hand. “I still don’t want to leave yet.”

  “You’ll be back soon.”

  “Can I spend the night with you?”

  Rick stared at his son, stunned, but Suzanne laughed. “You are your father’s child and may be not as shy as we think. I’m sorry, perhaps another time.”

  “That means no,” he said disappointedly, then followed Mandy to the car.

  “How about an answer to my question,” Rick said as Suzanne climbed the porch steps.

  She looked at him as she gripped the railing. “I told you I need time.”

  He took two steps until they were at eye level. “I gave you over an hour. What’s your reply? What do I get to tell Luke?”

  Suzanne frowned. “You play dirty.”

  He let his finger trail a sensuous path down her arm. “At one time you liked how I played.”

  “That time is gone.”

  His finger trailed up. “So you’re turning me down?”

  She folded her arms, her skin tingling. “No.”

  He stilled. “You’re saying yes?”

  “On one condition.”

  “I plan to sleep with you.”

  Her cheeks burned. “That wasn’t the condition.”

  “I just wanted to make sure we understand each other.” He took another step toward her. “What’s the condition?”

  “That you won’t shame me. If I hear even a whisper that you’re seeing another woman it’s over between us.”

  “I told you—”

  “I know what you told me, but I want you to promise.”

  He wrapped an arm around her waist. “So you do believe in men’s promises.”

  “Just say it.”

  He slid another arm around her. “Okay. I promise that you’ll be the only woman in my life.” He placed a kiss on her cheek. “And I promise that you’ll have no reason to doubt me.” He kissed her other cheek. “And one day I promise to make you believe every word I’ve said.” He bent to kiss her lips, but she pulled away.

  “Mandy and Luke could see us.”

  “So what? I’m not going to be your little secret again. If you plan to marry me, accept me as I am.”

  “I do.”

  “Then kiss me now.”

  She planned to kiss him quickly, but the moment her lips touched his he didn’t allow her to escape and deepened the kiss with a mastery that made her head spin. When he finally withdrew she was breathless.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said, and leaped over the railing, landing smoothly on the ground. He turned to her and his face broke into a smile. “You won’t regret this.”

  “Are you sure this is what you want?”

  He responded with a wink that said it all, turned and dashed to his car.

  Suzanne waved as they drove off, knowing that she wasn’t saying goodbye but “see you soon.” In an instant she’d changed her life. She’d closed the door to leaving this town, to protecting her heart against Rick. She knew from the first moment she saw him that she loved Luke and the thought of being his mother was a thrill. That didn’t scare her. Loving a child was easy. What did scare her was that she was in danger of falling in love with his father, too.

  Chapter 11

  Frieda inhaled her fourth cigarette while staring blankly out the window, waiting for Rick’s visit. She glanced at her watch with impatience then took a swig of whiskey. Good company was few and far between nowadays and she’d never admit to it, but she looked forward to her son’s visits. Sometimes he brought his son—or what he tried to pass off as one, she thought with a sniff as she twirled the liquid in her glass. The boy was too soft and quiet for her taste. Not like the brash, loud man her husband had been. Not that she missed the bastard, just the company.

  When the phone rang she stubbed out her cigarette on the arm of her recliner’s plastic cover and answered.

  “Is it settled?” a familiar voice asked.

  “Yes, the house is ours. He signed the papers.”

  “So it’s a done deal,” Wallace said.

  “That’s right.”

  “And you plan to hold up your end of the bargain?”

  “Don’t I always? Why do you want her back?”

  “That’s my business. I just want to make sure the way is clear for me.”

  “Yes. Without the house I’m sure she’ll fall right back into your arms.” Frieda paused when she heard a car. “Rick’s back. Gotta go.”

  “He still doesn’t know anything?”

  “No.”

  “Good.” Wallace disconnected.

  Frieda hung up the phone and quickly put the whiskey away. Rick hated seeing her drink. She smoothed down her dress, picked up a magazine and sat back in the recliner, so that when Rick entered the room she looked the picture of domestic tranquility. “You’re late,” she said. “I’ve been waiting.”

  He kissed her on the cheek. “Hello, Momma.”

  “Do you know what time it is?”

  “I told you we went to visit Suzanne.”

  “Where’s Luke?”

  “At the hotel.”

  “Why didn’t you bring him by?”

  “You’ll see him next time.”

  She tossed the magazine on the ground. “So you let Suzanne meet that little girl you’re raising?”

  Rick wiped crumbs from off the couch cushion and sat. “Luke is just shy.”

  “As shy as a virgin in a biker bar. He needs some balls.”

  Rick picked up the magazine and set it on the side table. “He’s only five.”

  “Nearly six. You were further along at that age.”

  “He’s not me.”

  “You’re sure he’s yours?”

  “He’s mine and we’re not having this conversation again.”

  Frieda shrugged and grabbed a chip from the bag on the cluttered coffee table.

  Rick frowned at the mess. “I thought I arrang
ed a housekeeper to come every week.”

  “I can keep my own house. Besides, they steal.”

  Rick didn’t reply. Of all people, his mother would know about the habits of some housekeepers. She’d been one for ten years. Unfortunately, his older brother had gotten his sticky fingers from her and had landed in prison twice.

  “When is she moving out?” Frieda asked.

  “She’s not.”

  Her heart began to race. “What do you mean? The house deal didn’t go through or something?”

  “It went through. The house is mine.”

  She looked at him with confusion. “I don’t understand. Is she going to rent a room?”

  “She’s going to be my wife.”

  Frieda snatched another cigarette from her carton and lit it. “You always did have a nasty sense of humor.”

  “I’m not kidding.”

  She stared at him, stunned. “You’re serious.”

  “Yes, I’m going to marry her.”

  “How do you know she’ll marry you? Just because you got money doesn’t mean she’ll lower her standards.”

  “She already has.”

  Frieda gripped her cigarette, unaware of the ashes falling to the floor. “She said yes?”

  Rick nodded.

  Frieda took a long drag of her cigarette, her hand shaking as she thought of the phone call she’d just received. “She must be more desperate than I thought.” She exhaled, trying to think of what she would say to Wallace. “Did she convince you of this?”

  “No, it was my idea.”

  “Why the hell do you want to marry her? Remember how she treated you?”

  Rick ignored the second question. “She’ll be good for Luke.”

  “I know you need help with that—” she stopped when she saw Rick’s face and knew this was no time for teasing “—with Luke, but you don’t need a Rand. She’s got you in her claws again and you’re too stupid to see it.”

  “I’m doing exactly what I planned to do.”

  “You didn’t tell me.”

  He tugged on the strap of his watch. “No, but you’ll get used to the idea.”

  “You’re making a mistake. Think this through. There are other people who—” She halted and concentrated on her cigarette, letting the smoke burn her lungs and the nicotine ease her worry.

  “What other people?” Rick demanded.

  She waved her hand in a dismissive manner. “Nothing.”

  “This is my business and no one else’s.”

  “Why don’t you marry that ninny you hired?”

  “She’s a nanny and she’s family.”

  “A distant cousin, thank God, and I meant what I said the first time. She’s as empty-headed as they come but I guess you’re satisfied with the way she looks after the boy.”

  “She’s temporary.”

  “Then make her permanent,” Frieda demanded.

  “Calm down. Do you want to have another stroke?”

  “It wasn’t a stroke,” she grumbled. “It was a TIA, a ministroke.”

  “I don’t care what it was. I don’t want to go through that again.” He shook his head. “I didn’t expect you to be happy, but you’re taking this a little too hard. What’s going on?”

  “Don’t do this, Rickie.”

  “Why not?”

  “I told you why not.”

  “Not every reason.”

  She picked up her ashtray and tapped her cigarette against it. “Suzanne’s a traitor. That book—”

  “I don’t care about the book.”

  She pointed her cigarette at him. “You should care. What if she starts writing about—”

  “It doesn’t matter. In a few days you’re going to have a new daughter-in-law so start getting used to it. It’s done, Momma.”

  “She might not show up.”

  “I’ll make sure she does.” He stood. “I’d better go.” He bent to kiss her on the forehead but she turned away.

  “Just go,” she said and kept her face turned until she heard the front door close. The moment he was gone, Frieda began to pace. This wasn’t what she’d planned. This would ruin everything. How could Rick marry Suzanne? A Rand? She hated the Rands and everything they represented. They were liars and destroyers. Her life would have been different if it hadn’t been for them. She could have made something of herself if their influence and power in the town hadn’t been so fierce. Gerald Rand had sent her son to prison, instead of giving him leniency. Malcolm was a good boy deep down, but the Rands didn’t care and putting him away had taken from them the extra income they needed and had forced Rick to work two jobs.

  And that harlot of a daughter had used him. She remembered her coming by wanting to speak to him, but she wasn’t going to let Suzanne anywhere near her son if she could help it. And she did. Frieda was glad when Suzanne married and Rick moved away. But then she wrote that book and Suzanne made her hate the Rands all over again. How dare she profit off of their pain, and now she’d captured Rick’s heart again. Suzanne was supposed to be free for Wallace. She had to think. She pulled out her whiskey bottle and poured herself a drink. She finished it in one long swallow and picked up the phone. When the line connected she said, “There may be a problem.”

  Wallace hung up the phone after talking to Frieda, then burst into laughter. The old woman had to be mistaken. Suzanne would never marry Gordon. And he’d done his best to make sure. She’d accepted his gifts and seemed intrigued when he’d talked about Gordon’s intentions regarding 468 Trellis Court. He would have had her already, if her friends hadn’t stopped by. And he would have her no matter what. He didn’t just want her back. He needed her back.

  It wasn’t until after their divorce that he learned how much the success of his practice depended on her. How much he’d listened to her quiet advice. How much he’d depended on her clever mind and keen observation to handle a client or a case. He never paid her a salary, because she was his wife, and he didn’t feel he had to since he provided for her.

  Gerald Rand had taught his daughter well, and he’d handed him a cash cow that he’d let slip through his fingers. He should have followed Rand’s advice and been more discreet, but he’d been arrogant and as the years passed Suzanne made sure his bed became colder than an icebox. He’d thought of divorcing her during that difficult time, but his old man hadn’t wanted him to. He liked Suzanne and liked his association with Gerald Rand even more.

  Wallace knew this and lived his life to make his old man proud so he kept the marriage up. More times than not Wallace had felt like a pale imitation to his brilliant father until he’d developed his ability to listen and uncover people’s weak spots. Soon that trait served him well and impressed his father and improved his business, but it hadn’t saved his marriage.

  Wallace let his good humor subside and rubbed his chin, pensive. He should have worked harder at keeping Suzanne. He hadn’t expected paying alimony to be such a pain. At first it hadn’t bothered him. Then she wrote a book and became a celebrity. He’d helped her get there, with his information about certain people in town, but she kept all the glory for herself. But now, he had even more information—the type that affected Suzanne personally and Frieda had given it to him when she’d appeared in his office over a month ago asking for a favor.

  “You know Suzanne is coming back to town?” she said, sitting in her chair as though ready to spring out of it.

  Wallace stared at the older woman with boredom. His father had told him that in the past she’d been a good lay, but he couldn’t imagine that now. However, he’d been taught to respect his elders so he continued to listen. “Everybody knows that. She has to take care of her father’s estate.”

  “Rick wants to buy the house from her.”

  “So?”

  “That’s the only exchange I want between them. I’m wondering if you could make sure of that.”

  He sat up, interested. “You think there’s something going on between them?”

  “No, but
Suzanne is dangerous. She tricked my son once and I won’t see that happen again. I could make this worth your while.”

  The prospect of money always caught Wallace’s attention and he needed money to take care of some heavy debts. “I’m listening…”

  And he listened for over an hour as Frieda told him all he needed to know to keep Gordon in line. Too bad she didn’t know how much that would cost her.

  Claudia and Noreen stared at Suzanne as though she’d just announced she was flying to the moon. They sat in a fashionable restaurant in Raleigh, while the remnants of their meal lay abandoned on the table.

  “You’re getting married?” Claudia said just to make sure she’d heard correctly.

  Suzanne nodded. “Yes.”

  Noreen adjusted her glasses. “To Rick Gordon.”

  “Yes,” she repeated.

  “The man who bought your house?” Claudia said.

  “Yes.”

  “The same one who broke your heart?” Noreen added.

  “I know it sounds a little strange,” Suzanne admitted.

  “It sounds absolutely crazy.”

  “Don’t we get a chance to meet him first?” Claudia asked.

  “There’s not enough time,” Suzanne said.

  “Make time.”

  “I don’t want to,” she snapped.

  Noreen stared at her, surprised by her forcefulness, but Claudia smiled. “Wow, Suzanne’s getting some fire.”

  Suzanne stared at Noreen helplessly. “Don’t be angry.”

  “I’m not angry, I’m worried.”

  Claudia toyed with her straw, bobbing it up and down in her glass. “I can’t believe you’re marrying the man you wrote about in your book.”

  “I only based the character on him,” Suzanne corrected, wishing she hadn’t shared the basis for her inspiration.

  “You named him Roland Grant.”

  “So what?”

  Claudia ignored her. “Noreen, you should be taking notes. This would be a great plot for one of your books.”

  Noreen frowned. “It’s irrational. Personally, I think it’s more in your arena. Isn’t there some psychosis for an author who falls in love with her creation?”