by Lisa Jackson
“Oh, Kyle,” she moaned. “Please love me.”
“I do,” he promised. “Oh, lady, I do.” His words were comforting and filled with conviction. Maren’s eyes filled with unwanted tears and for one wondrous moment she let herself believe him.
“I want you to consider moving in with me in La Jolla.” It was a simple statement and sincere. His heartbeat had quieted, and his dark gray eyes seemed to pierce Maren’s soul.
Maren’s voice caught in her throat, and she hesitated. The words of love he had whispered while making love to her had to be considered nothing more than vague endearments murmured in the heat of desire. They couldn’t be construed as promises of a love everlasting. Maren knew that impassioned words of love deep in the night had a way of fading into forgotten vows with the coming of dawn.
“Did you hear me?” He pulled her more closely to him, molding her slim body to the contours of his. Maren’s throat was rough with unwanted tears. She sighed deeply as she lay in the comfort and security of his arms.
“I heard you,” she whispered, still facing away from him. “I just don’t know what to say…”
“Say yes,” he persuaded gently as he pressed his lips against the back of her neck and breathed in the scent of her hair.
Her supple body became rigid in his arms. “Kyle…I know that I laid it on a little thick when we first met.”
“What do you mean?”
She sunk her teeth into her lower lip as she gathered her thoughts. “You were coming on pretty strong, and I didn’t really know how to handle it. All that talk about commitment, it doesn’t matter, not now. At the time I was afraid of an affair.”
“But now you’re not? Is that what you’re trying to say?”
“Now I’m not,” she agreed softly.
Broad hands gently pushed on her shoulders until she was forced to face him. As she stared into his brooding eyes she thought she would like to drown in his gaze. Her love for him was so great that she could sacrifice her principles and live with him without marriage. She would never selfishly bind him to a marriage he didn’t want.
As if reading her thoughts, he frowned and his dark brows drew downward in confusion while he brushed a stray lock of auburn hair out of her eyes. “And you’d be satisfied with an affair?” Disbelieving gray eyes held her captive.
“Yes.” Her voice trembled only slightly. “Don’t get me wrong, I still don’t believe in casual sex…”
“I know that.”
“But I think…with us, it’s more than that.”
“Of course it is. That’s why I want you to live with me.” His hands were resting on her bare shoulders and his thumbs slid temptingly against her soft skin. How easily he could coax her into doing anything for him.
Her fingers clutched the sheet as she shook her head. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?” He pushed himself up on one elbow to stare down at her.
She smiled despite the tears welling in her eyes. More than anything she wanted to live with Kyle and share his deepest secrets. She swallowed with difficulty. “For one thing,” she whispered hoarsely, “I’ve got a lot of work to do…”
“Can’t you do it as well in La Jolla?”
“Of course not! Kyle, be sensible! You know how tight my schedule is already. You’re the one who put a crimp in it!”
“And you thought you had a little extra time to work on Joey Righteous’s video.”
“That’s hardly the same thing.”
“I know that, but can’t you forget about work, just for a little while?” he asked.
“Hard to do, considering that I’m in bed with the boss.”
“Don’t think of me as the boss—just as your lover.”
She blushed at the thought. His hands took hold of her slender wrists and held them bound to her sides. Slowly he lowered his head and moistened the tip of one breast. The dark nipple hardened in response. “Come with me,” he suggested. When she laughed and tried to resist him, he only held her more tightly. “Come with me,” he pleaded again.
“I’d like to, but it’s impossible.”
“Maren, please…” He released her arms to touch her tenderly on the chin. “Come down to La Jolla, just for the weekend. We’ll talk about the future after that.” He saw the protests forming in her eyes and fended them off with logic. “There’s a lot of work you can do from the beach house. You can use the library. It has a desk and a phone…” He sensed that she was wavering. “…and a breathtaking view of the ocean.”
“You’re twisting my arm.” She sighed longingly.
“Then say you’ll come.”
She considered his request and the earnest look of concern in his eyes. “Okay,” she agreed, “but it can’t be until tomorrow.”
“That’s fine with me.” He kissed her on the cheek before rolling over to the edge of the bed.
“Kyle?” Her voice halted his movements. “Why haven’t you asked me about your offer on Festival?”
As he stood, he rotated to face her. She was huddled on her side of the bed, the sheet clutched tightly over her breasts and her eyes uplifted to penetrate his.
“I didn’t think the timing was right.”
“But I thought you wanted an answer.”
“I do. I have an appointment scheduled later today with my attorney and Elise Conrad. Apparently she has some misgivings about the sales contract. Is that right?”
“There’re a couple of things she wants cleared up.”
“And if I satisfy her, will you be ready to sell?” he asked, regarding her carefully.
“I think so. Of course, I would have to talk to Elise first.”
“Of course” was his clipped reply. He noticed the question forming in her eyes. Draped in the blue sheet, her tangled coppery hair framing her small face, she seemed more vulnerable than he had imagined.
“There’s something I have to know,” she said quietly.
He braced himself against the accusation he felt would surely come. “What?”
“You know that you’re not obligated to me, don’t you?” she asked.
“Obligation has nothing to do with the way I feel about you,” he replied. He frowned darkly, his jaw jutting outward and his cold eyes drilling into hers in frustration. “I’m asking you to come live with me because I want to. Don’t delude yourself into thinking it’s out of any heroic sense of duty just because we slept together.”
“Or because I haven’t signed the contract of sale on Festival?” she prodded, witnessing the angry storm gathering in his eyes.
“You’re incredible,” he charged. “Sometimes that lingering sense of paranoia of yours surprises me, and that’s hard to do. I’m used to dealing with all sorts of fears and phobias in this business, and I had the erroneous impression that you were a woman who really knew her own mind.” He turned on his heel, angrily reached for his clothes and stalked furiously toward the bathroom. “I’m not about to dignify that question with an answer.” With a final oath, he slammed the bathroom door and effectively cut off any further argument.
Maren pursed her lips together. “Coward,” she whispered, pounding her fist into the pillow. Why did he get so furious? What was he hiding? She couldn’t ignore the shadows of doubt that would cross his eyes. It was as if he distrusted her. Something wasn’t right between them; Maren could feel it. There was something he wasn’t telling her and it involved his purchase of her business. Why did he have to be so damned cryptic and manipulative? Again Jan’s warning echoed in her mind.
Maren’s anger slowly simmered while she dressed. By the time Kyle emerged from the bathroom dressed only in black slacks, Maren managed a remorseful smile. His dark hair was dripping as evidence of a recent shower, and he seemed surprised to note that Maren was completely dressed and quietly sipping a cup of coffee. She sat in a chair by the windows near where they had made love the evening before. Observing him over the rim of her cup, her dark brows arched expectantly as he came over to her.
&nbs
p; “You can be a real bastard when you set your mind to it,” she charged with a sweet smile and a devilish glint in her eye.
“Only when provoked by the right woman.”
Maren’s lips pursed into a petulant pout. “I poured you a cup of coffee—it’s in the kitchen.”
He bent down and touched her shoulders with his fingertips. “You mean you’re not going to get it and serve it to me?” he cajoled, his secretive smile pleading.
“Not on your life.”
Kyle returned with the cup and sat in a chair facing hers. He slipped his arms through his shirt and left it gaping open as he sipped the hot black liquid. “Tell me,” he suggested with a self-satisfied smile. “Are you always so even tempered when you wake up?”
“Only when I’m provoked by the right man.”
Kyle smiled. “Can I take you to breakfast?”
She shook her head and set her empty cup on the table. “Not today. Especially if I’m coming to La Jolla this weekend. I’ve got a million-and-one things to do.” She checked her watch. “And I’m late as it is.”
“Will you be at the meeting with Elise Conrad?”
“I plan to.”
“Then we can have dinner afterward in La Jolla.”
“Maybe,” she replied.
“Other plans?” His eyes darkened.
“I just don’t know when I’ll finish with everything I have to get done. If you remember, I’ve got to put ‘Yesterday’s Heart’ into production immediately. Ted Bensen and I are going to run over the first scenes. They’re a little tricky since the setting is the Depression. We have to be sure that the sites appear authentic and that there are no modern trappings to mar the effect.”
“Then I’ll call you at the office.”
“Fine,” she agreed, standing. “I’ll try and wrap up everything by five, if I can, and I’ll bring the paperwork to La Jolla.”
She started toward the door, but his firm voice arrested her. “Maren?”
She turned inquisitively at the sound.
“Holly is living in La Jolla with me. I thought you’d want to know.”
“Your daughter? But I thought Rose had custody…”
Kyle willed back the rage that overtook him every time he thought about his scheming ex-wife. “She does,” he said. “At least, she has permanent custody for the time being.”
“So Holly is visiting you?” Maren’s thoughts were confused. Hadn’t she read that Kyle’s daughter was recuperating from a near-fatal auto accident?
Kyle tensed. Anger flashed in his gray eyes. He was careful with his words, but Maren could read the quiet wrath smoldering beneath the surface of his gaze. “Holly will be with me a few months—longer if I get my way.” He set his cup on the table, and his shoulders slumped. “You must have read that Holly was nearly killed just before Christmas?”
Maren nodded silently, understanding for the first time the pain she had witnessed in Kyle’s clear eyes. “It was a horrible accident,” Kyle whispered. “For a while I wasn’t certain whether Holly would pull through it.” His voice had thickened, and he was forced to clear his throat. “Anyway, I just wanted you to know that she’ll be at the house.”
“And you still want me to come?”
“Of course.”
“Don’t you worry about setting the wrong kind of example by throwing our affair in her face?”
“Are you worried about what she thinks about you?”
“Yes. Aren’t you?”
“No.” He shook his head as if to relieve himself of a great sadness. “Holly and I don’t communicate very well.”
“This won’t help…”
“I think it will. Holly needs to see that I can care for someone other than myself,” he stated thoughtfully.
“And you’re sure that I won’t intrude?”
“Not a chance…”
Maren sighed in deliberation. Her love for Kyle overcame her fears. “Then I’ll see you tonight.”
A relieved grin broke across Kyle’s rugged face. “I knew you’d see things my way,” he said as he pulled a tie from the closet and knotted it around his neck before shrugging into his jacket.
“Your lack of confidence will lead to your undoing,” Maren predicted, with just the trace of a smile.
“No, I don’t think so,” Kyle replied with a wink. He put his keys in his pocket. “I believe that my ‘undoing,’ as you so aptly phrased it, will come from a beautiful woman with a razor-sharp tongue.”
Maren laughed, and the rich sound echoed against the rafters of Kyle’s apartment. He took her arm, opened the door and held her tightly to his side as they walked to the elevator.
THE DAY WAS MORE HECTIC than Maren had predicted. Jan called in sick, forcing one of the production personnel to answer the telephones. Maren worked with Ted Bensen on the proposed sites for the location shots on “Yesterday’s Heart.” Of the three sites, only one was suitable for the Depression setting.
By the time Maren got back to the office, it was after three and her meeting with Elise Conrad and Kyle was scheduled for four. Fortunately Elise’s office was nearby. Maren had just finished adjusting her lipstick and combing her hair, when the woman taking Jan’s place stepped meekly into the office.
“Ms. McClure—I hate to bother you. I know that you’re leaving, but this one guy keeps calling and insisting to talk to you.” She handed Maren a stack of telephone messages. They were all from Brandon. “He’s adamant about talking to you.”
Maren disguised her dismay when she accepted the memos by smiling at the girl. “Thanks, Cary, I’ll give him a call.”
After the young girl had exited, Maren glanced regretfully at the clock before sliding into the desk chair and dialing the phone. It was several seconds before Brandon answered.
“Hello, Brandon. My secretary told me you wanted to get hold of me.”
“Maren? What the devil took you so long?”
“I was out of the office,” Maren replied, wondering why she bothered to explain herself to him. “What’s up?”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” Brandon replied somewhat angrily. Maren could picture the indignant arch of his brow. “The physical therapist seems to think he’s done all he can for me.”
“That’s great,” Maren replied with genuine enthusiasm.
“Oh, yeah, you think so. Now you won’t have to fork out for the therapy.”
“The money has nothing to do with it, Brandon. I was just relieved that you were back on your feet again.”
“If you can call it that,” he spat out.
Maren closed her eyes. The recovery she had been praying for obviously hadn’t occurred. “Are you still having trouble?” she asked quietly.
“They told me I could never play tennis again.”
“They’ve told you all along that might be a possibility,” she reminded him softly.
“Tennis is more than just a game for me.”
“I know that, Brandon.”
“I was good. I was damn good! If it hadn’t been for the accident…I’d probably have been number one last year.”
The guilt within her twisted in her heart like a dull blade. “And the physical therapist says you can’t play?”
“Not professionally.”
“I assume the orthopedist concurs.”
“Who knows? I never can get a straight answer out of that guy! He seems to think that it’s all in my head. Easy for him to say.”
“Have you talked to a psychiatrist?” Maren asked patiently, knowing the answer before Brandon replied.
“A shrink? Are you kidding? I don’t need someone to psychoanalyze me, Maren. I need my legs back!”
“Wait a minute. The therapist says you can’t play professionally. But you still can teach, right?”
“I don’t know,” he pouted. “I don’t want to teach. I want to play—I have to.”
“Maybe you will,” Maren encouraged. “Look how far you’ve come. A year ago you thought you might never walk agai
n.”
“Well, it doesn’t help to have the therapist back out on me.”
“Back out? What do you mean?”
“He seems to think that he can’t do anything else for me. He wants to send me packing with a list of exercises.”
Maren tried to remain patient. “It sounds to me as if you’re making real progress. You knew that it would come to this.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” he shot back hotly. “You’ve never had your career…your entire life, ripped away from you, have you?”
Maren’s free hand clenched into a tight fist. “No, Brandon, I haven’t. But I know that you have to work with the doctors and not against them in order to make the most out of the situation!”
“Yeah, well, tell that to them.”
“What is it you want me to do?”
“Talk to the therapist, or get another. I’m on the verge of making it all work, I can feel it, but I’ve got to have help!”
“Why don’t you talk to your doctors?”
“Because they won’t listen to me! Damn it, Maren, is this too much to ask?”
Sighing, she replied. “No, it’s not. I’m just not sure I’ll have any influence.”
“People with money always have influence!”
Maren bit back the hot retort forming on her tongue. She’d never let Brandon know how expensive his treatment was. Nor had she told him how tight her own pocketbook was. She had hoped that he might recover more quickly if he wasn’t burdened by the knowledge that her financial condition was far from wealthy.
“I’ll see what I can do,” she agreed, glad that the trying conversation had come to an end.
“Good!” With this final remark, he hung up. Maren slammed the receiver into the cradle of the telephone.
Hot tears welled in her eyes as she thought about the hopelessness of her situation. “Damn it,” she mumbled to herself as she pounded a small fist on the desktop. “Damn it, Brandon, why won’t you help yourself?”
Looking up to the ceiling, as if in supplication, her shoulders slumped with the weight of her guilt. Whether or not Brandon fought for his independence wasn’t the issue. It made no difference. It was her burden to help him, and she would shoulder it with all the strength she could find.