That Boston Man

by Janet Dailey

  She was powerless to deny him anything. "Yes." And she was certain in that instant that she was insane.

  "Seven o'clock on Saturday. You'll be there," ordered Rome.

  "Yes."

  He pulled her arms from around his neck, letting her hands rest lightly on his chest. His dark gaze blazed possessively over her face and Lexie marveled at the way eyes that were so dark could seem so incredibly bright.

  Cupping her cheek with his hand, Rome traced the porcelain-smooth line of her jaw with his thumb. Then he let it seek the curves of her soft lips, outlining them. His thumb forced them apart to feel the white edge of her teeth. Her tongue touched its tip. With a stifled groan, Rome slid his thumb under her chin and let his mouth take its former place.

  Lexie was driven backward to the wall of the hallway by the unchecked force of his kiss. The lower half of her body was pinned there, crushed by the thrusting weight of steel-hard thighs and hips. With a bent arm braced against the wall for support, Rome arched her to him. Every nerve end was aware of his demanding male need and the hollow ache in her stomach longed for fulfillment.

  His mouth blazed a fiery path to her neck and the lobe of her ear. The moist warmth of his breath blowing unevenly against her skin sent shivers of passionate ecstasy racing down her spine. Lexie clung to his jacket, overwhelmed by emotions too powerful to deny.

  "Invite me in, Lexie." There was a husky, disturbed quality in his voice.

  "I…can't." It hurt to say it when she should have been relieved. "The landlady…she lives downstairs. She doesn't allow us to have…male visitors. Besides, there's my roommate," she finished, wishing she had simply refused instead of explaining.

  She heard the deep, self-controlling breath Rome took as he lifted his head, relieving the pressure that held her to the wall. His mouth crooked as he gazed at her, a rueful smile that held a trace of frustration.

  "Then you'd better go in," he told her, "before I make love to you in the damned hall."

  Despite the amusement lacing his tone, it was no joke and Lexie was well aware of the fact. It was difficult to move, even after Rome had levered himself away from her. Weak and shaken, she managed to reach the door, trembling under the touch of his gaze.

  "Lexie." She turned at the quiet sound of her name, the knob already turned, the door ajar. His hand lightly caressed her cheek, a fingertip trailing across her lips. "Dream of me?" Rome asked.

  In the blink of an eye, it seemed, his hand was withdrawn and he was striding down the hallway. Dazed and confused by what she considered to be a betrayal of her self-respect, Lexie entered the apartment.

  As she locked the door she remembered that she had agreed to see him again, to have dinner at his apartment. How could she be such a fool? The misty fog of raw passion began to dissipate under the cold breeze of reality. Senses previously controlled by desire surrendered to the control of her mind.

  From somewhere in the darkened apartment Lexie heard the sound of muffled sobs. It was obviously Ginger. More than anything, Lexie wanted to steal into her room and solve the problem of her own wretched agony, but she couldn't ignore the plaintive sounds of her roommate. She didn't bother with a light but made her way by instinct to the other tiny bedroom.

  "Ginger?" She paused in the doorway, hearing gasping attempts to hold back the sobs. "Are you all right?"

  "Yes," was the sniffing answer.

  As much as she wanted to, Lexie couldn't accept that. "Do you want to tell me what's happened?"

  There was more sniffling and the creaking of the bed springs as Ginger sat up. "Yes, but don't…don't turn on the light, please."

  There wasn't any need to. The street light outside shone through the window illuminating the tear-stained face and the rumpled golden hair Ginger was pushing away from her face.

  Lexie walked to the bed and sat on the edge, feeling suddenly like a very old lady coming to console a frightened child. Only there was a little child inside herself that was frightened, too. Who would console her?

  "What's wrong?" Lexie pushed aside her own needs. "Did something happen at the shower tonight?"

  "No, it's Bob," Ginger choked out the answer, her voice constricted with pain.

  "I might have known," Lexie murmured. Wasn't it always a man?

  "We…we had a fight," her roommate hiccuped out the explanation, scrubbing the tears from her eyes with shaking fingers.

  "What about?" Lexie prompted.

  "He wanted me to go out with him tonight but I told him I couldn't because I had to go to Madge's shower. Bob thought I could just go over there and drop the presents off and…and go out with him. When I wouldn't do that, he got mad. He said if a…if a bunch of girls meant more to me than he did, then maybe we should call it quits." Tears began streaming down her cheeks again. "When I got home from the shower I called him but he didn't answer. I've called and called and called, but he isn't there. Oh, Lexie, he really meant it." Her shoulders began shaking in silent sobs. "He's out with somebody else—I just know it!"

  "And it's probably a good thing, too. I know that sounds cruel," Lexie apologized, "but do you really want a guy who expects you to give up your friends for him?"

  "You don't understand," Ginger wailed. "I love him!"

  "He doesn't deserve it," Lexie argued. "He doesn't appreciate you. You're just wasting your love on him, and he doesn't want it. All he wants is—"

  "No!" Ginger's strident cry wouldn't let Lexie complete the sentence. "You never did like Bob. I don't know why I ever thought you would understand. Just go away and leave me alone!"

  With a sigh Lexie rose from the bed and left Ginger alone with her misery. Ginger was right; she hadn't trusted Bob. And who was she to give advice when she didn't practice the wisdom that she preached?

  A pain shot through her heart. "Dream of me," Rome had said. That was going to be easy to do. His touch, his kiss, his image haunted her. Yes, she would dream of him, Lexie realized, but it would be a dream that would soon turn into a nightmare of hurt and anguish.

  Fool that she was, didn't she know it? Or didn't she care? Hadn't she learned anything? Or was it all inevitable?

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  Chapter Six

  LEXIE KNEW SHE COULDN'T keep the dinner invitation. She didn't dare. At her desk the next morning, she thumbed through the pages of the telephone directory for Rome's number. After a fruitless search, she dialed information. The operator informed her that his telephone number was unlisted.

  Back to the thick telephone book. She began leafing through the pages for his office number. She had to give him her decision and offer brisk apologies, even though she knew he wouldn't like it. He might argue with her, but she was determined not to give in to his persuasions. Her fingers had just located the telephone number for Lockwood Enterprises and she was reaching for a pencil to jot it down when a shadow fell across her desk and the pages of the telephone book. Lexie glanced up and blanched guiltily under the shrewdly curious eyes of the female columnist.

  "Am I interrupting something?" Shari Sullivan inquired in a too-smooth voice.

  Lexie quickly closed the phone book. "No, nothing." Her voice was thin in its rush to assure. "I was just going to call the garage to see if my car was fixed yet."

  "You took your car into Sam's, didn't you?" the columnist remembered. You won't find him under the L's, but you might find Rome Lockwood's number in that section."

  "How clever of you to notice," Lexie remarked, and smiled a tight, false smile.

  "What happened? Did you leave your notebook in his car last night?" Shari asked in a voice reminiscent of a cat's purr.

  "Last night?" Lexie repeated. Then she demanded, "How did you know about that?"

  "Oh, I have my own private grapevine," came the throaty reply, filled with deliberate mystery.

  "Only one person knows about last night, besides myself and Rome. Mac told you, I suppose," Lexie guessed with grim accuracy. "I sometimes think that man never knows when to keep his
mouth shut."

  "Was it a secret, honey?" The bleached blonde's eyes widened with false innocence.

  "Of course it wasn't a secret," she answered impatiently, not wanting to put too much importance on the incident since it would only increase Shari's interest. Shari might be a friend, but as a reporter, Lexie didn't trust her to keep anything quiet. "But I can just imagine the way Mac made it sound when he mentioned it to you."

  "Lexie, honey, please don't try to convince me that Rome Lockwood gave a lowly little reporter a ride home simply out of the goodness of his heart." There was something cunning in the smile she gave Lexie. "Knowing his reputation, I'll never believe chivalry had anything to do with his motive. So what gives?"

  "Nothing." Lexie stubbornly tried to make light of the incident. "Rome happened to be talking to me when Mac said he had to leave and asked if I could hitch a ride home with someone else. Maybe courtesy dictated that Rome should offer me a lift. I don't know and I don't care."

  "How many times have you seen him these last couple of weeks?" Shari changed her tactics, switching from sly innuendo to direct questions.

  "I haven't seen him at all." Lexie could truthfully and vigorously answer Shari's prying question.

  "Haven't you?" A finely drawn eyebrow was delicately arched to dispute Lexie's statement. "I suppose it was purely coincidence that Rome was attending that political function last night."

  "I told you before that I'd seen him at similar things occasionally," Lexie reminded her.

  "So you did," Shari admitted. "But the two of you could just as easily have arranged to meet there. Your car was conveniently in the garage, and Mac is notorious for his disappearing acts once his part of an assignment is finished."

  "Your two and two are adding up to five," Lexie declared.

  "You can't blame me for being suspicious. It all looks very arranged." The columnist put suggestive emphasis on the last word.

  "Well, it wasn't. It was purely accidental." Considering the disastrous results of the meeting—disastrous at least as far as she was concerned—accidental seemed the appropriate word.

  "When will you be seeing him again?" Shari wanted to know, watching her closely.

  Lexie tried to cool the warmth in her cheeks. "I don't know," she replied, knowing that there was still the dinner engagement to be cancelled. "Probably the next time Rome hobnobs with the politicians."

  "Do you mean that he hasn't asked you out?" The question was asked as if the blonde already knew better—which was impossible.

  "If he did, Shari, I wouldn't tell you," Lexie retorted. "As a matter of fact, I would hope you'd be the last to know. You've ferreted out all the information from me that you're going to get."

  "Is that any way to talk to a friend?" The older woman looked offended.

  "If you are my friend, you'll let the subject of Rome Lockwood drop and not use me to claw your way to the top," Lexie challenged.

  A coldness swept over the columnist's face. "We're both in the business of news, Lexie."

  "Then go find your news someplace else instead of rehashing old gossip," A sigh of irritation took much of the steam out of Lexie's reply.

  After Shari had walked stiffly away, she opened the phone book again and found Rome's office number. His secretary informed her that he wasn't in. Lexie tried several times the next two days to contact him at his office during business hours, but he was always out when she called. Lexie couldn't help wondering if it was deliberate. But she never left a message nor asked that he return her call, nor even identified herself. She didn't want her name joining a monumental list of other female callers.

  All her suspicions that he was avoiding her had to be thrown out. On Friday, Rome called her at the newspaper. She held the receiver in her hand, too stunned by the voice on the other end of the line to speak.

  "Lexie, are you there?" His questioning voice held a hint of amusement.

  It prodded her into answering. "Yes, I am. Sorry. I'm glad you called, I…"

  "It suddenly occurred to me that you might need transport tomorrow night," Rome interrupted to explain why he called. "Is your car out of the shop yet?"

  "Yes. I…"

  "Templeton!" Mike barked behind her. "How come you're still here? I thought I told you to get over to city hall."

  "Just a second." She cupped her hand over the mouthpiece of the receiver, and glanced impatiently at Mike, "I'll be leaving in a second," she promised.

  "See that you do," he warned, but despite his gruffness, he wasn't really angry.

  Lexie removed her hand, "Sorry," she said to Rome, "I…"

  "You're busy. I'll see you tomorrow night at seven, my place."

  "No! Wait!" Lexie protested, "No, I…can't make it." The last part of the sentence trailed off lamely as a dial tone buzzed in her ear.

  "All right, let's get going Templeton!" Mike urged behind her.

  Lexie stared at the telephone in frustration, then, grabbing her shoulder bag and note pad, headed for the exit. She knew she had missed her one and only chance to tell Rome her decision.

  By Saturday night, Lexie was being pulled in two directions at the same time. One insisted that she simply ignore the invitation she had accepted and not show up at Rome's apartment. The second wanted her to go, tell him she couldn't stay and leave.

  As she was dressing, she kept searching for a third choice and found none. The door to the apartment opened and closed, and a few seconds later Ginger called to her.

  "Lexie, I'm home. Where are you?" The rattle of paper bags indicated that her roommate's shopping expedition had been successful.

  "In the bedroom." The taut state of her nerves made Lexie's voice sound shrill. She ran a smoothing hand over the flame-colored curls of her hair before turning away from the mirror to walk to the doorway to the living room.

  Ginger's back was to the door as Lexie entered. "I didn't realize it was so late. I hope you haven't eaten dinner. I picked up some Chinese food on the way back and got a bit carried away. There's plenty here, more than I can eat."

  "I'm not really hungry." Lexie's nervous stomach began to roll at the thought of food.

  Ginger turned, a protest forming on her face until she caught sight of Lexie. "Are you going somewhere?" she frowned. "I don't remember you mentioning that you had a date tonight."

  "I don't." Lexie hadn't confided to her roommate about her meeting with Rome or the invitation to dinner she had foolishly accepted. There was too much risk that Ginger would let it slip to Shari Sullivan. And then, too, Lexie had been less than understanding when Ginger had been all confused about Bob.

  "What are you all dressed up for?" her roommate persisted.

  "I'm…just going out for a little while," she said evasively. "When is Bob coming over?"

  "Eight. That's why I grabbed all this Chinese food, so I wouldn't have to fix anything to eat here," Ginger explained. "Do you want me to put some of it in the refrigerator so you can have it when you come back? You might be hungry by then."

  "Maybe," Lexie replied, conceding the possibility. Once this meeting with Rome was over, her nerves might settle down. "Thanks."

  "Where are you going? Shopping?" Ginger started toward the kitchen.

  "No place special. Just out for a while," she lied.

  Ginger stopped and flipped her long corn-silk hair over a shoulder. She stared curiously at Lexie, a puzzled frown knitting her forehead.

  "Are you sure you don't have a date?" she questioned again.

  "I told you I'm just going out for a while," Lexie repeated, but avoided the girl's look.

  "You are going on a date," Ginger accused in breathless rush. "I'll bet it's with Rome Lockwood, isn't it?"

  "Whatever gave you that idea?" She tried to laugh it away, but ended up sounding guilty.

  "Shari said the other day that she was positive there was something going on between the two of you. I didn't believe her, but it's true."

  "No, it isn't," denied Lexie.

  "You neve
r said a word to me." The full force of her spaniel eyes was directed at Lexie. "You wouldn't have told me if I hadn't guessed you were going to meet him."

  "Look, I don't have a date with him," Lexie insisted, then fell back on the truth. "Actually I do have a date with him, but I'm breaking it. I'm supposed to have dinner with him tonight. Unfortunately he has an unlisted telephone number so I couldn't call him to cancel it. As much as I'd like to, I just can't stand him up. So I'm going over to his place to tell him the dinner is off."

  "That's why you didn't want any of the Chinese food I bought—because you're going to have dinner with him. Why didn't you say so?" Ginger asked in a confused voice.

  "I'm not going to have dinner with him," Lexie repeated. "I'm not eating with you because I'm too nervous."

  "Nervous? Why?"

  "Because I know he's going to argue with me, that's why." And he could be so persuasive, she thought. But she didn't tell Ginger that, not after all the preaching she had done. "And don't you dare breathe a word of this to Shari. I had all the comments I could stand from everybody in the building the last time I went out with Rome. It's finally been forgotten, and I don't want Shari churning things up again by printing something in her column."

  "If you feel that way, then why did you say you'd go with him tonight?" It didn't make any sense to Ginger.

  "I think I was out of my mind at the time," Lexie admitted. "Promise me on your mother's life that you won't tell Shari."

  "I won't. You can trust me, Lexie," her roommate promised.

  Lexie glanced at her watch. The hands pointed to a few minutes past six-thirty. "I'd better leave. Unless I get caught in traffic, I should be back before Bob comes."

  "Good luck."

  By the time she had driven to Rome's apartment her toes were like ice cubes. She paused in front of Rome's door. Before she could retreat she pushed the doorbell. This time there was no waiting, no time to think. The door opened and Rome was there, so casually male, so devastatingly handsome; a satyr with his dark, knowing eyes and that black mane of hair.