She heard Berle suck her teeth. “Child, you Southern girls give me a pain. I’m from Minnesota. Up there, we don’t get balled up in this color mess. If he looked my way, I’d grab him before you could say Berle.”
Leslie sucked in her breath, as Berle’s remark sent blood flying through her veins like a liquid comet. But she didn’t give away her emotions. “Well, if that’s what winds you up, I understand he goes to Abel’s Feed and Grain every Monday morning.” She conceded that she sounded more clever than she felt. Seeing Berle with Jordan wouldn’t make her sleep nights.
“Don’t tempt me, girl.” When Leslie didn’t reply, she added, “Call me sometime, and don’t worry. I won’t tell anybody where you are.”
Leslie stared at the phone long after she hung up. She hadn’t dared ask what prompted that last remark, but she was grateful for the assurance.
She didn’t work on Sundays. However, since moving to the Estates, she took all of her meals with Julia, Cal and Jordan, so she insisted on helping Julia with the weekend cooking. They ate late on Sunday mornings, and when Leslie walked into the kitchen at eight o’clock one Sunday, she got a surprise.
“Who are you?”
“I was about to ask you the same question,” the big blond man replied, with a rakish grin. “Jordan usually goes for blondes, but looks like his taste has improved. I didn’t know Jordan had gotten married.”
“Neither did I,” she replied, expertly sidestepping him as he walked around the table and extended his hand. She didn’t like his easy familiarity, so she pretended not to see his hand, bounded up the stairs and knocked on Jordan’s door. It hadn’t occurred to her that her presence at Jordan’s bedroom door would rob him of his composure, but when he opened it, he gaped at her, speechless. And she couldn’t help staring at his wet black hair, washboard belly and the towel that clung precariously to his hips.
If ogling was bad manners, so be it. She couldn’t hide her admiration and didn’t try. Mom Haynes always said that when you see evidence of God’s perfection, you should bow before it. She wouldn’t go that far, but Lord…
To her embarrassment, her voice cracked when she spoke. “Jordan, did you know there’s a man downstairs, tall and blond?”
He savored her freshness, the soft curls caressing her face, and her inviting floral scent, as fleeting as petals on the wind. As his gaze roamed over her, he felt the heat rush through his body, startling him. “What the hell?” he muttered to himself. He must be getting some kind of glandular dysfunction.
“That’s Cal’s younger brother. Wait while I get into something, and I’ll go down with you.” When it came to Turner, her apparent lack of ease around men was anything but foolish. He wouldn’t go any farther than she let him, but he’d certainly test the water.
Turner met them at the kitchen door with his electric smile in place, but Jordan knew it wasn’t meant for him. Turner had arrived the night before after Leslie had gone to her apartment, his visit impromptu as usual.
“Where did you find her, Jordan? She’s skittish as a young colt. Cute, though. Just needs to be broken in.” He reached out if he meant to touch her, but Jordan restrained him. And not very gently.
“Turner, this is Leslie Collins. Keep your hands off her, and don’t crowd her.”
“Last time I looked, she wasn’t wearing a ring. Do you have his ring, Leslie?” She looked from one to the other. Jordan knew his face had the turbulence of a midsummer thunderhead. But he made himself stay relaxed, as though unconcerned. After all, what was he getting so riled up about? He squelched the urge to laugh when she looked at Turner in a way that should have shriveled him.
“I figure you’re getting this information for the Gallup Poll. Right? Otherwise, you wouldn’t be so personal, would you?” A scowl settled on her face, and she added, “Are you sure you’re Cal’s brother?”
“You’re not the first person to wonder about that. It could be the twenty-year age difference.” They looked around and saw Cal leaning against the doorjamb. “Miss Collins is off limits to you, brother. You’d do well to take Jordan’s advice.”
Turner’s half-smile was aimed to reassure them. “All right. All right. I was just testing the water. Why is everybody so uptight? I never take anything that isn’t given willingly.”
Jordan had never been certain what he thought of Turner. He wasn’t what he appeared to be. He had a ready grin, but he wasn’t fun-loving. He picked off women like buckshot picking off blackbirds, yet he never had one woman for a steady companion. And he didn’t come around his brother often. He looked steadily down at Turner from his advantage of three inches.
“Don’t try me on this, Turner. I won’t tolerate it even for one second.” Still smoldering and not remembering that he’d promised himself he’d avoid touching Leslie, Jordan draped his arm around her shoulders and steered her to his den.
“Let Julia cook. You shouldn’t be in there with him.” He didn’t question his proprietary manner and neither, apparently, did she.
To his amazement, she didn’t move from his arm. He opened the door, expecting her to refuse to enter it with him, but she did, adding to his incredulity.
“Is he going to stay here?”
“He’ll be gone in the morning. He isn’t really brutish. He just loves to tease, but the problem is that he tends to take teasing too far. Unless you’re receptive, that’ll be the end of it. He knows me well, and he isn’t foolish.” She seemed at ease with him, so he took a chance. “Leslie, what makes you uneasy with men? Tell me. Let me help you. This isn’t normal, Leslie.”
Immediately, her demeanor changed. Within that second, she had become evasive. Uncomfortable. “I told you some things, Jordan. Please. I don’t want to go into it now. I’d better help Julia.”
He’d give a lot to know what made her so evasive. He remembered the man he’d found loitering around the garage. “Leslie, I’ve been wanting to discuss something with you. A couple of weeks ago, a man came here asking about you, but he wouldn’t state his business. I sent him away because he looked like a reprobate. I didn’t like it. Would you know what he wanted? Since then, I’ve learned that he’s been pestering the neighbors and he’s given them a pretty good description of you. Of course, they’re my friends, so they wouldn’t tell him a thing.” He observed her intently and couldn’t miss the apprehension that clouded her eyes.
She shook her head. “I don’t know what he wanted with me, Jordan.
“What about the finance company that you owe?”
She brightened. “Could be, though I’m not behind in my payments. Still…” Her voice trailed off. “I’ll go help Julia.”
He stood there staring at the open door. Not much shocked him, but that bad performance of hers had come close. She hadn’t told him the truth, at least not all of it. He rested his hip against his desk. What was he supposed to do now? A few minutes earlier, he would have boxed Turner’s ears to protect her. Still would. He grimaced. Taking on Turner wasn’t something you did casually; he was as good as a man got. One thing was certain: he didn’t know enough about Leslie. Maybe this was just the medicine he needed to straighten up his head and get her out of it. Leslie appeared to be principled. But hell, the woman was in trouble and too scared to accept the help that was right there for her. He went back upstairs, got his jacket and headed for the garage. He didn’t want to see Leslie right then; he’d get breakfast in town.
* * *
Leslie didn’t question Jordan’s right to an explanation of her behavior or as to why a man he described as disreputable-looking would inquire about her. If she were in his position, she’d probe, too. She’d give anything if she could tell him all that she had stored inside herself, and especially if she could tell him about Faron Walker. She longed to open up to him with the truth, but more questions would follow, and she couldn’t bear to relive the cross-examination, the suggestive—if not outright—accusations, such as the ones she’d faced in court. And she didn’t want to be diminished in
his eyes. Worse still, Faron had promised to kill her if he found out that she had told anyone that he was looking for her.
She had done nothing wrong, but even in her vindication, they’d draped the heavy curtain of suspicion over her. If Jordan didn’t want her to stay, she would have to leave, and she would. She could stand up to almost anything but his scorn. She gazed through her bedroom window at the lush fields that reached as far as she could see and asked herself why it was so important that Jordan think well of her. She turned away from the window and switched on the radio, unwilling to pursue the thought, afraid of where it might lead.
* * *
Late in the afternoon several days later, Leslie and Julia sat on the back porch shelling June peas for supper. In Leslie’s mind, Julia’s perfectly manicured nails should have been holding a porcelain teacup in a salon, not shelling peas on the back porch of a farm house. She looked at her own tapered and buffed, but unpolished, nails.
“Julia, you do the job of two people. How do you manage to look as if you’ve never worked in your whole life and wouldn’t deign to consider it?”
Julia patted the blonde French twist at the nape of her neck. “I figure I don’t have to look frumpy just because I chop onions. Besides, I never know when Cal will walk in here, and I intend to keep his head so full of me that there won’t be room in it for any other woman.”
“Yeah, but you could pull off those jeans and sneakers, slip on an evening gown and sandals and go straight to a gala.”
“I wasn’t born beautiful, Leslie. You were. All you have to do is wash your face and blow-dry your hair. Men love to be around attractive women, even if they’re not interested in them. So I give ’em plenty to look at.”
Leslie pondered raising a matter that had long bothered her. “What if a man you don’t want gets interested?”
Julia’s well-shaped eyebrows shot up. “You can’t worry about that. It’s natural. I get a bang when a man does a double take and looks at me a second time. Makes my blood race. That’s what this man-woman thing is all about. Cal is my world, and when he gives me that look that says he’s got loving on his mind, I get dizzy. You see me looking like this in the kitchen and you wonder why. It’s because that man responds to me. When I want something from Cal, I let my hair down, put on something feminine that he likes, tell him how wonderful he is, and he’d give me the moon if he could reach it. Try it. There isn’t a man walking who wouldn’t eat it up.”
Leslie tucked several strands behind her left ear and paused over her next words. She’d always thought it best to be honest with a man. “But, Julia, that’s manipulative.”
Julia shrugged. “Right. But from what you’ve seen of Cal, you wouldn’t suggest that he’s too stupid to know what I’m doing, would you?”
“’Course not. Which is why I don’t get it.”
Julia grinned, and the grin broadened into a wide smile, as though she savored a rich memory. “He likes it. He knows I’m strong-headed, but he’d rather I tease and pamper him than demand what I want like a bully squaring off for a fight.” She licked her lips. “He likes me soft and sweet, and I give him all the sweet stuff he can handle.”
“If that’s what boils his water,” Leslie said, and covered her amusement when Julia patted her hair, looked at her nails and grinned at some private thought.
Julia pointed an unshelled pea at Leslie. “You’d be right down gorgeous, a head turner, if you’d just let your hair hang down and put on a little lipstick. You’re kicking God’s gift square in the teeth. You have to be a real woman twenty-four hours every day. No matter what.”
Leslie figured she’d already turned one more male head than had been good for her and besides, it suited Julia to flaunt her femininity; she’d rather do what came naturally. Hearing the crunch of heavy steps on the graveled walkway leading to the back yard, they sat forward, alert. Cal and Jordan had just left for Dexter, and they hadn’t heard a car. Anxiety tested her courage, and she could feel the tension reverberating around Julia. A vision of Faron crowded all else from her mind. Suppose he had seen Cal and Jordan leave! The sight of Turner brought such relief that she welcomed him with more warmth than she felt. He explained that he was on his way back to Washington and thought he’d drop in.
“How about a little lemonade or something else cold, ladies? It must be ninety degrees.” Julia went to get some refreshments, leaving Leslie with Turner.
“How’ve you been, Leslie? You’re pretty jittery, aren’t you? Well, worry not, honey, you’re safe with me. Jordan’s laid claim, and I’m not one to go after another man’s woman.”
Jordan’s woman? He had to be out of his mind. She opened her mouth to deny it, but decided that it might be safer not to. “What do you do in Washington?” she asked him.
“I live and work there. I run a software design business. I’ve just decided to develop some programs for farmers, cattlemen and horse breeders, and I’m working my way through Maryland, Virginia and Kentucky to find out what people need and how to package it.
Her interest piqued, she warmed up to the conversation. “What kind of information would you need to write a program for a big operation like this one?”
In his element now, Turner took a pencil and some paper out of his briefcase and began to list items and draw diagrams. She pulled her chair closer to examine Turner’s sketches, and was soon so engrossed that she drank the lemonade and ate the cookies without realizing when Julia had put them there.
Julia surveyed the cozy scene and contemplated the probable fallout, because Jordan had warned Turner not to play loose with Leslie as he did with so many woman. She loved her brother-in-law and she loved Jordan, and she didn’t want any antagonism between them. But she’d never before seen Leslie so enthralled in anything, so she decided to cook the supper and let Leslie enjoy herself. As she worked in the kitchen, a thought plagued her. Would Jordan have challenged Turner about any cook or other female employee, or only about Leslie? He hadn’t trusted Turner with her. Jordan protected the vulnerable; that was as much a part of him as his hands, but he’d walked out of the kitchen with his arm around his African-American cook. She liked Leslie, and she could see that a man, any man, would want her. She didn’t like what she was thinking, and she hoped they’d use some sense and stay away from each other.
She punched the intercom, called the men’s quarters and asked Ossie to bring her a bunch of scallions. She enjoyed talking with Ossie, and knew he’d do most anything for her, so she couldn’t understand why he soured from the time she’d spoken with him until he walked into the kitchen. He’d opened the door with his usual smile, but had seemed to become angry when he saw Leslie and Turner huddled over Turner’s sketches. She hoped Ossie wasn’t sweet on Leslie.
Jordan found Leslie and Turner head to head and deep in a quiet, almost whispered discussion of the technicalities of computer program design. He observed them for a few minutes, then spun on his heels and walked away. Out in the barn, he saddled Casey Jones, his big bay stallion, and galloped out to the brook. He wanted his supper, but he needed to cool off, and he needed to think. If you mentioned a man to her, her knees got rubbery. She was uneasy with men, and he knew it; at least that was what she had led him to believe. She kept plenty of space between him and her and, just four days ago, she had definitely not wanted to be in the kitchen alone with Turner. Now she was sitting head to head, shoulder to shoulder with him as comfortable as a queen holding court. He remembered the coolness with which she had misled him Perhaps she wasn’t afraid of men. That could be a screen. Maybe she just liked Turner; most women did. He didn’t know what to think. And what was Turner doing back there so soon? He lived within seventy-five miles, but they hardly saw him twice a year. Instead of cooling off, he got madder.
Julia stepped out on the porch. “Cal and Jordan are back, Leslie, so supper will be served in a few minutes.” Surprised that so much time had passed, Leslie apologized for not helping with the meal.
Julia waved he
r hand, dismissing it. “Don’t mention it, Leslie. Wasn’t much to do.”
“Where’s Jordan?” Leslie asked, but Julia had stepped back into the kitchen.
“Wherever he is, he’s mad as hell.” Turner folded his paper and put it in his shirt pocket.
“Mad? About what?”
Turner responded with a brittle laugh. “He saw you out here with me. Lady, that man wants you.”
Even as she denied it vehemently, he narrowed his eyes. “Leslie, Jordan is a civilized man. He uses his head before he uses his fists, though God knows you don’t want to be the one standing there when he starts to swing. But if I hadn’t backed off last Sunday, he would have taken me on in a minute. Jordan and I were teenagers together when I spent my summers here with Cal and Julia, and I used to whip him as often as he whipped me. But roughness isn’t his style. He’d beat the brains out of anybody who bothered Julia, and that includes Cal, but fight over any other woman? I never thought so.”
“What exactly are you saying? I’m his employee. The only thing he wants from me is a good day’s work and a steady supply of buttermilk biscuits and apple tarts.”
Turner’s laugh carried a hard edge and no humor. “It’s a good thing I’m smart enough not to believe you. If you don’t want him, you’d better get out of his way. Excuse me, Leslie, but I’ve got to find him before he gets back here.” He grinned at her. “Somehow, I think I’d be safer meeting a rattler.”
* * *
In the stable, Jordan stood beside Casey Jones grooming him. He sensed Turner’s presence without turning around and addressed him through clenched teeth. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your company this time, Turner? You don’t usually need to see your family so frequently.” Jordan knew his expression signaled his readiness for just about anything, and it didn’t surprise him when Turner didn’t reply with his usual sarcasm.
“Don’t get your back up, Jordan. I came back here expressly to see you.” At Jordan’s look of disbelief, Turner laughed. He hoped his suspicions were correct; Leslie wasn’t what he would have expected Jordan to chose, but he could do a lot worse. All the stupidity about inter-this and inter-that didn’t make sense to him anyway. Women were women and men were men, and a drunk was obnoxious, no matter what color he was. Besides, a man went for the music that made him dance, and if that was the case, bully for both of them.
Against the Wind Page 5