Fair Game

by Doreen Owens Malek

  The only person he saw on his way out was the desk clerk.

  Ransom had never felt worse in his life.

  * * * *

  Martin was up at six-thirty, drinking room-service coffee and hoping that Ashley would emerge from her room before too long. She had nothing to attend until the luncheon at one, but sometimes she stayed inside working for hours on end. He had resolved that today he would ask her what was going on with Dillon.

  It was still none of his business, but if he had to wonder about it any longer, he would surely go mad.

  Dillon had vanished after the auction, when he and Capo had seen him leaving in a huff, and Martin wondered if the lawyer’s disappearance had anything to do with him. The phone calls had stopped, the gifts no longer arrived, and Ashley attended everything alone.

  All in all, from Martin’s point of view it was a very interesting development.

  He had showered and shaved in the separate room Meg always reserved for that purpose, but now he was back in Ashley’s suite, waiting. He could hear the water running in the room next door as Capo got ready for the day ahead.

  Martin finished the last of the coffee and thought about ordering more. He was living on coffee and cigarettes, and had lost eight pounds since starting this tour. His cheekbones stood out like a fashion model’s, and he looked like a man visited nightly by an incubus, a man expiring of a surfeit of passion.

  Which was almost the truth. He could hardly bear to be around Ashley, for fear of what his expression might reveal, but when he was away from her it was worse, as he was tortured by his ignorance of what she might be doing.

  His only consolation was that he wasn’t away from her much.

  A waiter knocked and went past Martin into the bedroom with a tray at seven-thirty. At eight o’clock, he heard her on the phone with one of her cronies in the Justice Department, and at eight-thirty she appeared, wearing jeans and an oxford cloth blouse.

  “Good morning,” she said, coming through the connecting door.

  “Hi.”

  “Has Meg been in yet?”

  Martin shook his head.

  “Dad must still be having breakfast. Did you eat?”

  “Coffee.”

  She surveyed him disapprovingly. “You should eat more. You’re getting thin, and I think we’re responsible. The schedule we’re forcing you to keep would run anyone into malnutrition.”

  “You’re keeping the same schedule,” he pointed out to her.

  “But I get a regular infusion of pastrami sandwiches,” she said, and he smiled.

  “Holding out on me, huh?”

  “Could be.”

  “If I find out you’re hitting those greasy spoons with anyone but me...” He let the threat hang in the air, and she grinned.

  “Let me order you up some breakfast,” she said, reaching for the phone extension on the TV table.

  “I don’t want anything, really.”

  “Stubborn, eh?”

  “It will just go to waste.”

  “What will the police commissioner say when we return a skeleton to his ranks?”

  The mention of the end of his tour brought sobering thoughts for them both.

  “Ten more days,” Martin said.

  Ashley nodded slowly.

  “Then I go back to Philly,” he added.

  She nodded again, not looking at him.

  “What happens to you?” he asked softly.

  “I keep on with... this,” she said, gesturing around her.

  “And with Jim Dillon?” he said, looking into her eyes.

  She was silent.

  “What happened to him, Ashley?” Martin called her that only when they were alone together.

  “We had... an argument.”

  He saw that she wasn’t going to be more specific, so he prodded, “What about?”

  “Just a difference of opinion.” She was having trouble holding his gaze; she was a lousy liar.

  “Must have been a major one.”

  “You could say that.”

  “Ashley, was the argument about me?”

  There was no mistaking the flush that spread up from her neck to her cheeks.

  “Why do you ask that?” she murmured.

  “The way he looked at me when he left the boat the night of the auction,” Martin replied.

  “How did he look at you?”

  “Like he wanted to kill me.”

  “All right, yes. The argument was about you,” she conceded uncomfortably.

  “What did he say?”

  “He wanted me to call the police department and request that you be replaced,” Ashley responded.

  “Why?”

  “He thought there was something between us,” she answered. “I told him that we were friends, but he couldn’t understand that. He was jealous.”

  “Is he that insecure?” Martin asked.

  “He never was before,” she replied.

  “You never gave him reason.”

  “I didn’t give him reason this time.”

  “Yes, you did,” Martin told her in a low tone, taking a step closer to her.

  She closed her eyes. “Tim, please.”

  “You know you did,” he said huskily.

  She didn’t answer, her mouth working.

  “Are we just going to go on this way?” he said, pressing her. “I’m about ready to jump out of my skin all the time, we’re tiptoeing past each other like a couple of burglars, and when I think of leaving and never seeing you again...”

  “Shh.” She put her finger to his lips, and he kissed it.

  She moved her hand and touched his face, running her index finger over the hard line of his jaw.

  “It’s like a miracle to be able to touch you, after wanting it for so long,” she whispered.

  “You could always touch me,” he said, taking her hand and placing it against the pulse in his throat. “Any time.”

  “If only it were that easy,” she murmured, her eyes filling.

  “Why should it be hard?”

  “You’ll lose your job if your captain finds out you were doing anything more than guarding me,” she said.

  “What have I done?”

  “Oh, Tim, don’t be naive. This wasn’t supposed to happen, and you know it.”

  “What does that mean? Your daddy won’t like it?”

  Her hand fell away.

  “Is that it?” Martin insisted.

  “If you really believe that, then you don’t know me at all,” Ashley replied.

  “Then what? Why is it so impossible? Damn it, Ashley, why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Do you think I don’t know the contempt you feel for all of us?” she said quietly. “I’ve felt it myself, seeing us through your eyes. You think we’re all rich parasites who’ve never done a day’s work, and you think my father is about as qualified to be President as you are to teach at the Sorbonne.”

  “That has nothing to do with you.”

  “Of course it does! This is what I am. I come from the Fair family, and I want my father to be President! He may not be perfect, but he’s better than anybody else who’s running now, and he’ll do the best job he possibly can.

  “Ashley, this isn’t about your father. Don’t confuse the issue.” He took her chin in his hand and forced her to meet his eyes. “Can you face the idea of never seeing me again after I’m through here?”

  She bit her lip, her eyes searching his.

  He reached for her and pulled her into his arms. When he kissed her, the satisfaction was so intense for both of them that they remained for a long time locked in a fierce embrace, like teenagers who are loath to lose contact for fear the magic may never happen again.

  When Martin finally lifted his head, Ashley wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face against his shoulder.

  “Come down to my room with me,” he said huskily.

  “What room?” she whispered, luxuriating in the feel of his hard body under her hands.


  “Where I shower and change. It’s empty.”

  She stepped back from him and looked up into his face. He was regarding her with a fixity that told her he was feeling exactly what she was.

  She nodded.

  “I’ll go,” he murmured. “Come after me in five minutes.”

  He left without looking back at her. Ashley stood rooted, her heart pounding, wanting to race after him but forcing herself to remain until he was gone.

  She was in love with him, but she didn’t want to be. It was all wrong, they would never be able to make a future together, but she had never felt anything as powerful as the need to follow him and be with him. It overrode everything else.

  When she had waited long enough she slipped down the hall, as furtive as a thief, and when Martin heard her footfall he opened the door and let her in. As soon as she entered, he closed the door and locked it firmly behind her.

  They fell into each other’s arms. Ashley found herself pulling at her shirt and his almost in a frenzy, trying to undress both of them at the same time. He kept kissing her, as if he could never get enough of her mouth, and they were half undressed when the phone rang on the table beside the bed.

  “Ignore it,” Ashley whispered urgently.

  But he was still a cop. He set her aside and picked up the receiver, saying into it breathlessly, “Yeah?”

  He listened, said, “Got it,” and hung up the phone.

  “Capo,” he said tersely. “I’m needed downstairs.”

  Ashley sagged visibly in frustration.

  “I’ll go,” Martin said, picking up his shirt from the floor and shrugging into it. He buttoned it rapidly, but Ashley noticed he was not as controlled as he seemed; his fingers were having a lot of trouble.

  “Don’t go,” she moaned.

  “Have to. You slip out after I’m gone.” He made for the door.

  “Is that all?” Ashley demanded, bewildered. “You have nothing else to say to me?”

  “If you don’t know how I feel by now, you never will,” he replied, and left.

  Ashley went over to the bed and sagged onto its edge. Slowly, she put her blouse back on and straightened her clothes, absorbed in thought.

  He had made himself clear, and the next move was hers.

  After a while, she got up and went back to the suite. Meg arrived shortly after she did and strolled into the room.

  She took one look at Ashley’s expression and said, “What?”

  “Come inside with me,” Ashley replied quickly, and fled into her bedroom.

  Meg followed Ashley into the bedroom and closed the door behind them.

  “What was that all about?” Meg asked.

  “I’ve just been with Martin. We were... uh... if the phone hadn’t rung, we’d be in bed together right now.”

  Meg looked stunned. “He’s on duty,” was all she could say.

  “We were... I don’t know what we were,” Ashley said, hardly listening. “We were talking beforehand, and we made... a confession? An admission? Can’t I express myself in anything but legal terms? Meg, I’m very confused about this.”

  “That much I gathered,” Meg said flatly.

  “Oh, God, what am I going to do?” Ashley moaned.

  “I want him so much I have to restrain myself every minute from following him around in a trance. It can’t work, but that doesn’t seem to matter. Why doesn’t that seem to matter?”

  “All right, calm down,” Meg said, glancing at the door as if wondering if they could be overheard.

  “He’s only a little less conservative than Birch Bayh and thinks my job puts lifelong felons back on the streets to continue their criminal careers,” Ashley went on. “He has a fine disdain for my family and friends and would probably be happiest going back in time to the Eisenhower administration. How can I possibly become involved with somebody like that?”

  “Because you’re crazy about him,” Meg said.

  “I did leave out that one point,” Ashley agreed miserably.

  “It’s an important one.”

  “I spend almost all of my free time fantasizing about him making love to me.”

  “I see.”

  “Do you think it could be just a superficial physical attraction?” Ashley asked, almost hopefully.

  “I seriously doubt it, Ash. You’re not the superficial type, and neither is he.”

  “But every time I see him I want to take him by the hand and lead him to the nearest bed. That doesn’t strike me as a particularly mature attitude.”

  “You’re just in love, Ash. That’s the way it feels.”

  “Did you ever notice his hands?” Ashley asked dreamily.

  “No.”

  “The backs of his hands have these big veins, and there’s downy black hair on his wrists.”

  “Oh.”

  “I keep picturing those hands all over me.”

  “I don’t know if I’m old enough to listen to this,” Meg said jokingly, raising her brows.

  “And did you ever see anyone look sexier smoking a cigarette?”

  “Keith Carradine in Choose Me Meg suggested.

  Ashley wasn’t listening. “I don’t like cigarettes,” she ranted. “I hate smoking. I never would go into a restaurant unless it had a nonsmoking area. Now I don’t even care. In fact, I’m growing fond of that tobacco smell because it reminds me of him.”

  “Humphrey Bogart in Key Largo,” Meg said.

  “What?”

  “Somebody who looked sexier smoking a cigarette.”

  “I thought you were going to take this seriously.”

  “Well, you asked.” Meg thought a moment and added, “Harrison Ford in Hanover Street.”

  “I’m sorry I brought it up. With your encyclopedic knowledge of movies, we could be here all day.” She paused and said thoughtfully, “Do you know what the worst part of it is?”

  “What’s the worst part?” Meg asked sympathetically, sitting next to Ashley on the bed.

  “Despite his infuriating attitudes, I need him desperately, and I know that if I were ever in trouble, he’d be there for me. That quiet strength of his is very reassuring.”

  Meg nodded.

  “But I’m scared. I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’m usually not combative, but I’ve been so edgy lately, first fighting with Jim and now this… I wanted to punch Tim when he walked out on me just now. The frustration was incredible.”

  “If you’re getting emotional, it’s probably a good sign,” Meg interrupted her. “You were always too restrained, Ashley. This man is finally shaking you up.”

  “This man is driving me insane.”

  “I think I know what your problem is,” Meg said. “You’ve led a very sheltered life and have never really gotten to know anyone outside your own rarefied circle. Now you find yourself falling for a very different kind of man, and it’s unsettling.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “You have a choice, you know. You can let him go back to Philadelphia when he’s finished here and end the relationship before anything really happens.”

  Ashley put both hands over her mouth and shook her head, her eyes wide.

  “Then you’d better learn to accept him,” Meg said.

  “It’s not a question of accepting him. I do. His values are sound, and I understand why he feels the way he does. I’m actually proud of his convictions. But he’s so rigid.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I introduced him to Carlo on the yacht the night of the auction. And I know if Carlo hadn’t left as quickly as he did, Tim would have been horribly rude to him.”

  “That’s not so surprising. I’ve come close to being horribly rude to Carlo myself. What happened, did Carlo make a pass at him?”

  “Not exactly. He made some remark about Tim being attractive or something. You should have seen the look on Tim’s face.”

  “I can imagine. But did you really think that somebody like Tim would take that sort of thing eas
ily?”

  “I guess I thought that he would be sophisticated enough to laugh it off.”

  Meg shook her head. “You don’t want ‘sophisticated,’ Ash. You’ve been drowning in sophisticated all your life. Tim is straightforward and solid and decent, and if you’re honest with yourself you’ll admit that’s a large part of what you find so compelling about him. Aside from his hands, of course.”

  “But if he can’t deal with Carlo, how can he possibly be with me? You know what my life is like. Carlo is the least of it. How could Tim handle the people I meet in my career, the clients I represent?”

  ‘‘Are you sure you’re giving him enough credit? I suspect he’s capable of compromise, and if he wants you, as I think he does, he’ll meet you somewhere in the middle.”

  “And what about my family? Can you imagine Sylvia’s reaction to all of this?”

  “Since when have you ever cared what Sylvia thought?”

  “My father cares what she thinks. I really don’t want to cause an uproar.”

  “You may have to do just that. Don’t you think it’s time you stopped playing good little Ashley and did something you wanted to do, did something for yourself, regardless of your image or what the rest of the world might say?”

  Ashley sat thinking for a long moment, and then said, as a slow smile spread across her face, “Maybe you’re right.”

  “What are you going to tell Tim?”

  “Nothing, for the moment. I need time to think about how to handle things with Jim, my family, everyone.”

  “Why don’t you just get Jim on the phone and tell him you’re throwing him over for Tim Martin because Tim has sexier hands? It makes sense to me.”

  Ashley smiled thinly. “Very funny. Jim is not so easy to get rid of, as you may have noticed in the past. He’s mad right now, but he’ll get over it and turn up again. He won’t want to miss out on the publicity connected with the rest of the campaign, and he knows Tim’s assignment will be over soon.” She sighed and surveyed Meg objectively. “Now that I’ve bored you with my problems, how are you? I must say you’re looking very chipper this morning.”

  “I am chipper. Peter stayed with me last night.”

  “You mean here?”

  “Yup.”

  “And I missed him!”

  “He left very early this morning for a meeting.”

  “Was it wonderful?”