Roberta Leigh - Love in Store

by Roberta Leigh

  "It isn't better for me." He put his hand over hers as it rested on his arm. She tried to pull it away, stopping in surprise as she saw Zachary coming toward them. She tugged at her hand again but Larry still held on to it, only releasing it as his cousin came abreast of them.

  "Not interrupting you both, am I?" Zachary said quietly.

  "Larry was just going," she said pointedly and gave the younger man such a sharp look that he grinned.

  "I'll see you later," he said. "Don't forget me."

  "Do you want me for anything?" Samantha asked Zachary the moment they were alone.

  "No. At least, I…" He frowned. "What were you and Larry whispering about?"

  "No secrets," she said. "We were only whispering because we didn't want anyone else to hear." She gave Zachary a sidelong glance, pleased to see him scowling. Perhaps a bit of jealousy might be good for him. It could have a cathartic influence on his mind and help to clear it of other women.

  "Larry is annoyed because I'm seeing so much of you," she admitted. "And he's particularly cross about this weekend."

  "You can always cry off if you wish."

  She faced him squarely. "Are you saying that because you are angry or because you are jealous?"

  He scowled even harder but she went on staring at him, and after a few seconds the scowl left his face and he smiled slightly.

  "I'm sorry, Samantha. I asked for that. But I was in a foul mood."

  "Why?"

  "Because I'm jealous and I don't like it."

  "You have no need to be jealous of Larry. I haven't seen him since the garden party."

  "You'd still be going out with him if he hadn't frightened you."

  "And you'd still be going out with Marie if she weren't in New York! Honestly Zachary, be adult about it." Though angered by his inability to see she had stopped going out with Larry because she loved Zachary himself, she tried to retain her control. "I went out with Larry because he kept asking me and was always friendly to me. I'd have gone out with you for the same reason—if you had asked me first."

  "I asked you the first week you were here but you refused."

  "Because I already had a date," she retorted. "And you didn't ask me again until last week."

  "Are you going out with me to show me how unbiased you are?"

  Astonishment took away her anger. "If you think that, we'd better stop seeing each other." She turned her back on him. "You can tell Larry you'll have room for him at your home this weekend. He can take my place."

  "No one can take your place," Zachary said, his breath tickling her ear. "I must be going mad, Samantha. You make me say things I don't mean." His hand was light upon her shoulder. "Please turn around and look at me."

  Slowly she obeyed. Their eyes met and he muttered something and drew back as a customer came in their direction.

  "If I stay here any longer I'll kiss yon," he whispered shakily. "I'll see you later."

  He strode away, pausing some yards distant to talk to another saleswoman. Samantha watched him, enjoying the sight of his dark, distinctive face. How he dominated everyone around him by the strength of his personality. It was also clear that he was the brains behind all the new ideas that had been put into operation since Uncle John's death. The more she learned about Zachary, the more incomprehensible it was that he had not been given control of Farrell's. Was it because Larry was the son of Uncle John's twin that her godfather had found it impossible not to give him an equal part of the business? This seemed the only logical reason, and she wished he had not seen fit to put her in the center of what she felt could become an unpleasant family situation.

  However her weekend in Zachary's country house exceeded her highest expectations. She drove down with him late on Friday afternoon, arriving shortly before the two other couples he had invited. One of them brought their two children and she was delighted by the way Zachary played with the youngsters, showing a light-heartedness that gave another dimension to his personality.

  The weather was excellent for most of the time, though on Saturday evening there was a thunderstorm and they sat in the rustic sitting room, playing Scrabble and various other games that Zachary brought out.

  On Sunday the weather was glorious again and they lounged by the pool. Zachary disappeared shortly afterward, a fact that spoiled Samantha's pleasure in the pool and the company, though she tried not to show it.

  "Don't tell me you had work you couldn't put off?" she said coldly as he finally joined them at noon and dived into the water to swim beside her.

  "I wasn't working in the real sense of the word. I was in my workroom."

  "With your tables and chairs."

  "With my tables and chairs," he smiled.

  "You're very unsociable." Annoyed that he had not wished to be with her, she lunged forward, though she managed to have a smile on her face as she reached the side of the pool. Not waiting for Zachary to join her, she heaved herself up and sat on the edge. He swam leisurely across to her and with a lithe bound was beside her, the water gleaming on his body and clinging to the thick hair that lay across his chest.

  He eyed her, then leaned forward and placed his lips on her shoulder. They were warm on her skin and sent a delicious shiver through her body. Her anger disappeared. It was mean of her to be upset because Zachary had wanted to spend time in his workroom. It was his way of relaxing and no doubt it did him more good than having to make conversation with other people.

  "If you want to go back to your woodwork this afternoon," she said quickly, "I'm sure your friends won't mind."

  "What about you?"

  "I won't mind either. Honestly."

  "You're sweet," he said huskily, "but I've finished for the day."

  After tea the two couples and the children departed. Samantha waited to see what time Zachary would suggest they leave and wondered if he would ask her to spend the night here and return to London in the morning. What would she say if he did? Nervously she considered one answer after another then, not finding the right one, discarded them all.

  "I thought we'd leave about nine," he said into the silence. "We'll be home by eleven and you won't have too late a night."

  "You mean after my hectic weekend?" She was so delighted that he hadn't asked her to stay that she gave him a dazzling smile. "I've never had such a lazy two days."

  "But enjoyable, I hope?"

  "You know I've loved every minute of it."

  "The house and garden are rather nice," he said.

  "So is the owner of them."

  "Only nice?"

  "Irresistible," she smiled.

  "Is that why you keep saying no to me?"

  "You haven't asked me."

  "If I did?"

  "I'd say no!"

  His laugh was spontaneous and he looked young and without a care in the world.

  The sky was darkening as they headed back to town, driving in a bigger car this time and leaving the small one behind. "I'm taking a few things back with me," he explained at her questioning look but did not vouchsafe more until he arrived at her apartment, when he opened the trunk and took out the little rosewood table she had seen the week before. Even in the light of a street lamp it was beautiful, the marquetry top forming a precise and intricate pattern.

  "For you," he said, and held it out to her.

  She took it but he still kept hold because of the weight.

  "You—you c-can't mean that," she stammered. "It must have taken you hours of work."

  "I finished it this morning," he said and all at once she knew why he had spent all those hours in his workroom away from her.

  "And I was angry with you because of it," she murmured. "You knew, didn't you?"

  "Yes, but I wasn't hurt; only flattered that you missed me." He went up with her in the elevator. "Where would you like to put the table?" he asked. "In the living room?"

  "No—I'll have it in my bedroom. Then I can put my books on it."

  She opened the door of her room before realizing
it was the first time he had seen where she slept. Blushing, she hurriedly pushed her chiffon nightdress under the pillow, though he could still see it as he set the table by the bed.

  "It will be right beside you when you sleep," he said.

  "And beside me when I wake up."

  "Where I would like to be."

  "Zachary." She took a half-step toward him and he did the same. Then they stopped. His mouth twitched and then clamped tight.

  "No," he said in a strangled voice, "there's a limit even to way self-control." Turning his back on her, he strode to the front door. "I won't be able to see you tomorrow night. Marie is coming back and I promised to meet her."

  His words were like a splash of cold water and it was several seconds before she could speak. "You don't need to make excuses not to see me, Zachary."

  "It isn't an excuse; just an explanation."

  "You don't need to give me any explanation either."

  "Don't you want to know why I can't see you?" he asked roughly.

  "Not if the answer concerns Marie," she said evenly. "Your diplomacy is slipping."

  "I don't want to be diplomatic with you. I want to be honest."

  It was difficult to cap this, so she pretended to stifle a yawn.

  He took the hint and stepped into the outside hall. "I'll call you, Samantha."

  She nodded and closed the door, then swiftly opened it again.

  "The table is wonderful. I'll—I'll always cherish it, Zachary." Her voice cracked and she closed the door and rested her head against it. Why did Marie have to come back so soon? If she had stayed away another week, Samantha thought, Zachary might have fallen in love with her. Yet that brought no comfort. She didn't want Zachary to love her just because Marie was away. She wanted a genuine love; one that would last and deepen. No, it was better for the girl to return. At least then she and Marie would know where they stood. Blinking back her tears she bolted the door. But perhaps neither of them mattered seriously to him. It was a dismal thought and her tears flowed faster, making it impossible for her to stop them.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Whether it was fate or because he knew Zachary would be otherwise engaged, Larry sought out Samantha on Monday morning and asked her to have dinner with him. Reluctant to be alone and think of Zachary smiling into Marie's pert little face, she accepted the offer.

  By the time Larry came to pick her up, she regretted having agreed to go out with him. It was an effort to pretend to a cheerfulness she did not feel and she drank two champagne cocktails quickly, pleased when they gave a lift to her spirits. Larry set out to amuse her and did not refer to his cousin until they were half way through dinner; and only then because he had had a row with him earlier in the day and was still upset by it.

  "I was hoping he'd buy a big block of my shares," he informed her, "but he won't."

  "Why not?" She was astonished. "He wants to have control of the store, doesn't he?"

  "He says he can't pay the price I want."

  "Can't he raise the money?"

  "He won't. He says my price is too high."

  "Is it?"

  Larry hesitated, then shrugged. "I have someone who is willing to pay me treble the face value if I sell out my entire holding."

  She thought what this would mean to Zachary and said carefully, "Uncle John would have hated to think of you selling out."

  "I know. But you can't rule people from the grave. Circumstances change and so do attitudes."

  "But you're a Farrell. Doesn't the store mean anything to you?"

  "Not much." Larry faced her squarely. "Anyway, it hasn't happened yet. This man will only buy me out if he can get your shares too."

  "But that's tantamount to a takeover!" she exclaimed. "Zachary would be in a minority." She gave Larry a hard look. "I would never sell my shares to an outsider."

  "Why not? It would mean a fortune for you."

  "You know how I feel about my shares. I'm holding them in trust for you and Zachary. I'm quite willing to give you half each."

  "What use is that?" Larry said irritably. "There'd still be a stalemate. No one will pay treble for my shares if they're locked into a company that they can't run." He sighed heavily. "I knew you wouldn't do it. I've no hard feelings toward you, Samantha. In your position I'd probably do the same."

  She doubted it but did not say so. After all, there was no point antagonizing him.

  "Are you sure you can't deal with Zachary?" she ventured. "Perhaps if you didn't want all the money in one go…"

  "I've talked to him until I'm blue in the face but he refuses to pay my price. The only thing he'll do is—" Larry stopped. "Anyway, it's no deal."

  "What isn't?"

  "Nothing. I'd rather not say anymore."

  "You've said too much to stop now. Please tell me, Larry."

  "You won't like it."

  "I'll like it even less if I think you're hiding something. What is Zachary willing to do?"

  "Give me a high price for a limited number of my shares. Enough to give him control in case you decided to sell out to anyone!"

  "He knows I'd never do that," she said indignantly.

  "Zack's a suspicious person. He doesn't have much faith in anyone."

  For the rest of the evening Samantha mulled this over. The more she thought about it, the more determined she became to see Zachary and have it out with him. Had he not been with Marie tonight she would have telephoned him the moment she arrived home; instead she had to be content with the knowledge that she would see him in the morning.

  However the next day she learned he had flown to Paris. Instantly she imagined him there with Marie, a vision that did nothing to set her mind at rest. The day seemed interminably long. She had far too much leisure in which to think and each thought was more mortifying than the last, with Marie featuring in all of them.

  Because of this she was taken aback when she saw the girl strolling toward her across the mushroom-colored carpet. As always she was exquisitely dressed; her navy and white silk suit exactly matching a navy and white handbag and gloves.

  "I didn't know you were working in this department," Marie said. "I thought you were still in dresses." She fingered a hat on a stand. "I like this but it's the wrong color. Do you have it in blue?"

  "I'm afraid not."

  "In white then?"

  Samantha's eyes moved across the models displayed on the various counters. Suddenly she remembered a beautiful creation that had recently arrived. The cost would astonish Zachary but, remembering how quick he had been to misjudge her, she was sorry it wasn't double the price.

  "You've thought of something for me?" Marie exclaimed. "I can see it on your face."

  Fervently hoping Marie did not also see the gibbet on which she would have liked to put her,

  Samantha hurried to the stockroom, returning with a navy felt slouch.

  "That's for me," Marie said promptly and put it on. "You know my style exactly, Samantha. I'll always come to you in future."

  She watched the bill made out and then scribbled her name on it. "You know it goes to Zachary?" she said carelessly.

  Samantha nodded and held out her hand for the hat.

  "No, no," Marie said. "I'm going to wear it. But you can pack my old one. I'm so glad you entertained Zachary while I was in New York," the French girl continued as Samantha tied the hat box. "It stopped me worrying about him."

  "I enjoyed playing the Good Samaritan."

  "I hope you'll continue to be one."

  "Will that be necessary now you are back?" Samantha asked coolly.

  "I wasn't suggesting you give Zachary your company," Marie said abruptly, "so much as your shares."

  "My what?"

  Marie's eyes blinked as she saw the look on Samantha's face. "You don't mean he hasn't asked you yet? From what he said to me yesterday I was under the impression he had. I'm afraid I've spoken out of turn. You'd better forget it."

  "Everybody seems anxious to keep me in the dark about Zacha
ry and what he wants," Saman- tha said bitterly. "If you don't tell me, I'll ask him myself."

  "You mustn't. He'll be furious with me for being so indiscreet." There was no doubting the fear in Marie's eyes or the way she looked over her shoulder, as if afraid Zachary might materialize out of the air.

  "Then you'd better tell me," Samantha repeated.

  For an instant tiny white teeth nibbled on Marie's full red lower lip. "Someone has offered Larry a fantastic price for his shares and Zachary is afraid you'll sell yours too. The day I left for the States he told me he was going to make you an offer for them. That's why I—that's why I didn't hurry right back."

  Any faint hopes Samantha had that Larry had been exaggerating last night, died as she heard Marie's story. "Zachary can't believe I'd sell them to a stranger—no matter what I was offered."

  "In his heart he doesn't believe it," Marie said instantly. "He knows how devoted you were to your godfather. But he is a businessman and when it comes to business he can be very hard-headed. That's why he felt he had to—how do you put it—cover things from all angles and make absolutely sure you would do nothing that might put him in an impossible position."

  "Then why didn't he openly offer to buy my shares?" Samantha retorted. "We never even discussed it."

  "Perhaps after he had taken you out a couple of times he might have realized it wasn't necessary," Marie said softly. "If you liked him—and he knew it—he probably also knew he had your loyalty."

  Samantha turned away, knowing full well what Marie meant. Once Zachary had taken her out a couple of times he had known she was in love with him and would never do anything that would put him at a disadvantage. No wonder he hadn't mentioned buying the shares. After their first evening together—when she had practically fallen into his arms—he must have decided he had nothing to fear from her. How cleverly he had played his little game; letting her believe she meant something to him. Yes, he was a past master at the art of flirtation, tying her into such an emotional knot that he had been sure not even Larry could straighten her out.

  Larry couldn't have done it either—indeed he had failed to do so last night—but Marie had succeeded instead.

  "You do see why Zachary was so upset?" Marie was speaking again, her voice nervous. "Like you, he believes Farrell's should never be taken over by strangers. You can't blame him for not being totally sure of your reaction if you were faced with the temptation of a fortune."