Against the Wind

by Gwynne Forster

  “Leslie, can you come over here for a minute?”

  She came to him in quick, lithe movements. Youthful. He’d never thought of her age, but it occurred to him now that she always acted much older than her twenty-eight years.

  He put an arm around her waist. “Are you happy? Do you enjoy this?”

  “It’s wonderful. Another world. A wonderful world. Thank you for bringing me.”

  He didn’t want her thanks, only her joy. “This is my pleasure, Leslie. I’ve been on these waters a lot of times, but I’m enjoying it more today. Maybe it’s because there’s a peacefulness about you that I haven’t seen before. I’m going to anchor a few feet from here, and we can get something to eat. Okay?”

  “I guess so. I’d forgotten about food. After all, we only had lunch three hours ago.”

  He dropped anchor, reached for her hand and started down the steps. “The salt water always gives me an appetite. You mean you’re not hungry?”

  She shrugged. “Truth is, I’m too excited to be hungry, but I’ll eat if you do.”

  He put a white cloth on the table and opened the basket. When she started toward the kitchen to get plates and glasses, he stopped her. “This is my treat. You’re my guest, so I do the work, what there is of it.”

  He set out the smoked salmon, shrimp and watercress sandwiches, lemonade and brownies and pulled out a chair for her. He had a shrimp sandwich halfway into his mouth when she stopped him with a hand on his wrist.

  “Aren’t you saying grace?”

  He took in the devilish twinkle in her wide brown eyes and didn’t bother to control the laughter that roared out of him. When he could manage, he said, “Okay, you say it.”

  But she was staring at him as if seeing him for the first time, a seeing that was intimate and filled with longing. Quickly, he bowed his head and said the few words Julia had taught him when he was nine years old, because he had to diffuse the situation before he did the unthinkable. As long as they were on that boat, he wouldn’t dare touch her and let her think he’d brought her only for that reason.

  Feeling barely short of holy, he put their dishes in the dishwasher and got them back on deck. “I’m calling Cal to tell him they can eat supper by themselves. The men are off this afternoon, so Cal can take Julia out to supper if that’s what suits them.” He dialed Cal and Julia’s private phone number. “I thought we’d stay out here till dusk, Cal, so Leslie can see the lights from the boats and the restaurants.”

  He could imagine Cal’s slow smile crawling over his face. “I’m glad you called, Jordan. Julia’s been throwing hints ever since you left. She said you wouldn’t get off that boat any sooner than you had to. We’ll see you in the morning.”

  He watched the glow on Leslie’s face as they stood on the deck at sunset. He might ruin what had been a pleasant interlude, but he had to know. He took her hand, walked over to a bench on the starboard side of the cruiser and sat with her.

  “Leslie, I know I’m risking putting a damper on things, but I have to know.” She tried to move her hand from his, but he sandwiched it between his two. “Leslie, when you came to the Estates, you were afraid to be alone with me. What happened to change that? I need to know.”

  He could feel her whole body relax and knew at once what she’d thought he would ask her. “I…Ever since you made Turner stay away from me…He took you seriously, so I did too. And I guess I…well, the more I get to know you…You’re…I trust you. That’s all.”

  He welcomed that news, but he hoped she understood that there were different kinds and levels of trust. “Is that why you were so comfortable with him when he came back a few days later?” His breath stalled in his throat while he waited for her answer.

  “I suppose. He said if he got out of line with me, you’d let him have it, and I believed him. Then I found we were both interested in developing computer programs for big businesses. He turned out to be nice.”

  He let go of his breath and got up. “Where’s your pocketbook?”

  She pointed to the shoulder bag that hung on her arm. “Right here.”

  “All right. I’ll take this refuse out to the dock; then we’ll go.”

  So she trusted him. But did she have enough confidence in him to let him kiss her senseless? Straighten your head out, man, he admonished himself. This is new ground, and you aren’t sure you’re ready to cultivate it.

  * * *

  On a Sunday evening in mid-July, Leslie, Cal and Julia were well into a game of cutthroat Pinochle, but Leslie couldn’t keep her mind on it. Jordan had grilled her about a man who’d followed him from place to place for half a day in Dexter and, when she’d denied knowing the man, he’d lost his temper. She hadn’t lied, because she didn’t know a man such as he’d described. Certainly the man did not have Faron’s physique and wasn’t his facial type, but she hadn’t seen him in almost five years.

  “Cal, why does Jordan spend so much time in that den these days? Is he being antisocial?”

  “No, Leslie. He’s gotten way behind with his bookkeeping since he started working on that corn-yield research project with those people out in Wisconsin.”

  “What corn-yield research project?”

  “I guess Jordan doesn’t tell much. He’s a specialist in plant development, particularly certain grains. He’s got a large plot out there behind the potato field that he uses just for improving plant yield and quality.”

  Leslie laid an ace on Cal’s queen. “He’s a man of many talents.”

  Julia tossed out a trump card and took the game. “He’s got no more sides to him than I see you’ve got, and I have a feeling that you’ve got some I haven seen yet.”

  “Probably have,” Leslie replied, downplaying the significance of Julia’s remark.

  She couldn’t imagine why Jordan’s bookkeeping required so much time. Well, bookkeeping and accounting were what she did best. When they finished the game, she made a fresh pot of coffee and put a hefty slice of her apple pie into the microwave oven to warm, then hesitated, thinking that he might not appreciate either her concern or her suggestions. “Well, nothing ventured, nothing won,” she told herself, putting the coffee and pie on a tray and heading for the den. She paused at the door, suddenly nervous and uncertain, but she made herself knock in spite of her jitters.

  “Yes.” It was curt and unfriendly. But having gotten that far, she wasn’t going to be scared off. She went in and closed the door behind her. His hand remained suspended over a wide sheet of paper. She pulled out the desk sleeve and put the tray on it. He looked first at her and then at the tray. Leslie then watched in amazement while Jordan slowly transformed his fierce scowl into a shimmering smile of unadulterated pleasure. He looked up at her, grinned and warmed her all over.

  “You spoil me,” he said. “Thank you. Maybe this was just what I needed. I’ve been over this sheet and these receipts a dozen times, and they just don’t tally.”

  “If you computerize this, twenty or thirty minutes a day is all the time you’ll need to keep everything current.”

  “I know that. I had my business computerized, but my accountant not only programmed a hefty take for himself, he put a virus in the system when I caught him. You can’t imagine the damage that caused. Not again!”

  “Do you trust me enough to let me do it?”

  The pie almost fell out of his mouth. He regarded her soberly. “Why don’t you sit down? Are you telling me that you can set up a computerized bookkeeping system for me?”

  “Not only that, but teach you how to operate it.” He raised one eyebrow, put his fork down and finished chewing his mouthful of pie.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Of course, I’m serious. I could do that before I ever got my bachelor’s degree. Don’t you remember that when I came here, I was looking for a job as an accountant? The degree I’m working for now is a master’s in business administration. Get me a Windows system computer, and we’re in business. I’ll set it up in a few weeks in my spare time
. It’ll take you about an hour to learn the system, and I’ll write out the instructions clearly in case you ever forget. What could be simpler?”

  “Tell me what you need, and I’ll buy it tomorrow. But I can’t let you do this at your wages. We’ll have to discuss your pay.”

  “Jordan, please don’t spoil this for me by talking about money.”

  A week later, Jordan walked into the den to find Leslie and Cal sitting in the middle of the floor proofreading receipts and invoices against printouts.

  “She’s got this thing operating, Jordan. Everything’s in there, everything you put out and everything you take in, even the men’s bank balances, in case the books get lost. You name it, it’s here. She’s a goldmine, boss.”

  Jordan’s expression revealed to her more than an appreciation for her skills as an employee. “Yeah. She’s precious, all right.”

  Seeing his embarrassment, Leslie joshed, “Tomorrow you get your first lesson, if you have the time and want to, that is.”

  Understanding her perfectly, he said, “I’ll make the time. You just say when.”

  Cal looked from one to the other wondering whether they knew what was happening.

  * * *

  Leslie and Jordan’s heightened awareness of each other was not lost on Julia. She saw that they did not look at each other when they spoke, and that Leslie made an even wider circle than usual around Jordan whenever she had to pass him. They didn’t tease or joke with each other, although each of them exchanged pleasantries with Cal and her. She decided that whatever it was, it was on its way to becoming a problem.

  And it was a problem that troubled Leslie as well, for her mixed feelings about Jordan were beginning to wear on her. He thrilled her, and he made her apprehensive. He was wonderful, but he was off limits. Yet, in spite of the lectures and warnings she gave herself, he was seeping into her whole being day by day, glance by glance, and she hungered for information about him.

  “How long have you known him?” she asked Julia as casually as she could manage one afternoon after dinner.

  “Who, Jordan?” Julia guessed. “I’ve worked here for twenty-seven years. Came here when I was twenty-one and lived here ever since.”

  “But Jordan couldn’t be more than…”

  “Thirty-six. I came to work for his uncle when Jordan was nine. His parents had died of food poisoning in the northwest where they were both university professors. Seems they picked wild mushrooms and got some bad ones. Fortunately, the boys were away at boarding school and didn’t eat any. Jordan’s paternal uncle brought Jordan and his older brother to live with him here. In those days, the farm was only about five hundred acres. Jordan’s brother was nineteen and didn’t want any part of farm work, so he just took off and nobody ever hears from him Jordan was raised by me and his uncle. Cal, too, later on.”

  Leslie wavered for a minute and decided to ask the question that had bothered her most about Jordan. “Julia, why do I have the feeling that Jordan isn’t a farmer, although I see him farming? Did I see the real Jordan in that gray silk suit yesterday when he went to Baltimore?”

  “Honey, you’ve got good instincts. Jordan’s uncle died six years ago, leaving a barely profitable farm of about five hundred acres. Jordan was a full professor of agricultural science at the university, still is, for that matter. But since he’s a tenured professor, he was able to switch to part-time teaching temporarily and take over the farm. He soon reduced his teaching to Monday nights and built the farm up to what it is today—two thousand acres with just about the largest and best quality output anywhere around here. What made you think that he was something other than a farmer?”

  “At first, it was his vocabulary, his speech and his beautifully manicured hands. Especially his hands. I didn’t think farmers had hands like that. After a week, I couldn’t see a working farmer with his level of sophistication. Not even those ridiculous overalls that never fit could hide it.”

  Julia laughed. “I’ll have to tease Jordan about that. Come to think of it, I don’t remember seeing a farm worker or a cook with your level of sophistication, either.”

  Leslie forced a laugh. “Really?”

  “Hmmm,” was Julia’s reply, letting Leslie know she hadn’t been fooled by the casual behavior and evasiveness.

  * * *

  “Where’s Julia?”

  Startled, Leslie swung her gaze from the scene past the kitchen window to where Jordan relaxed indolently against the doorjamb.

  “Julia went to her room to write some letters.”

  A roguish grin spread over his face. “That’s interesting. Cal decided to go write letters, too. That leaves just you and me. What’ll we do? You want to write some letters, too?” He was laughing now. He couldn’t help it. Leslie was getting madder at him by the second. He hadn’t realized how much he would enjoy teasing her.

  She hadn’t seen this side of him, and he knew he had her nonplussed.

  “Will you please go away and leave me alone?” she sputtered. “What’s so funny?”

  He straightened up slowly and sauntered toward her, and she took a step backward for every one he took forward.

  “What’s the matter with you, Jordan? I never saw you act like this.”

  He tried to stop grinning, but it wasn’t easy; she looked “a pickle.” He stopped right in front of her, almost close enough for his shirt to touch her blouse.

  “Jordan?” She croaked it out, as if being that close to him tied her in knots. His grin got broader. Winking wickedly at her, he tweaked her nose. She backed away, landing against the wall. He didn’t crowd her further, just stood there with his hands in the pockets of his slacks looking at her. He could see her getting a grip on her emotions.

  “Jordan, why did you do that? What’s come over you?”

  He presented to her the picture of innocence. “Beats me. I guess the devil made me do it. You know what they say about idle hands. Well, I don’t have anything to do right now, and you won’t write letters.”

  She poked him in his rock-hard chest. “How old did you say you were?”

  He couldn’t restrain the laughter, because she was trying so hard to be annoyed. But she didn’t fool him; her body language told him she wanted him near. She could pretend all she wanted to. “I didn’t say, but I’m a man, if that’s what you’re after.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I know you’re a man.”

  “Do you?” he asked her, his voice soft and the grin gone, replaced by sober reflection. “How do you know I’m a man, Leslie?” She opened her mouth to answer, but closed it as he moved closer.

  “Don’t tell me you figured that out from the couple of times you accidentally found yourself in my arms,” he mocked, the teasing gone.

  “What do you want, Jordan?”

  This time, he was giving no quarter. “What do I want? If I told you, you’d be out of here as fast as lightning.” He looked her in the eye, letting her see his smoldering passion. “And don’t push me, not even a little bit, because if you do, I’ll tell you what I want, even if you don’t want to hear it.” And damn the consequences, he thought, but didn’t add.

  Fully a minute passed before he moved or made a sound. Then he tipped her chin up with one finger and stared into her soft brown eyes. Eyes that made him question his goals, his priorities and all of the reasons that he had ever given himself for remaining unattached. She caught her breath and ran her tongue around the rim of her lips. And still he stared.

  Finally, clearly unable to stand it any longer, she whispered to him, “Don’t. Don’t toy with me. I’m no match for you.”

  He realized he’d gone too far. “You know you needn’t be afraid of me, Leslie,” he told her, his voice conveying gentleness and tenderness. “You may some day find that I’m the one who’s no match for you.”

  What had begun as a tease had become serious, and he knew she wasn’t ready for a serious discussion of what was happening between them. He stepped away, hoping to diffuse the situation q
uickly.

  “Is there any coffee in that urn?” he asked, disconcerting her. Her relief was picture clear. He asked her whether she knew how to ride.

  “Ride what?”

  “A horse, Leslie,” he explained patiently, gruffly. “What else would you ride on a farm?”

  He gazed down at her, wanting her badly, but his common sense told him that he had better bide his time.

  “How would I know? I’m a city girl. Anyway, I don’t ride.”

  “Everybody else on the Estates can ride a horse, so I’ll teach you. You’ll enjoy it. There’s nothing so relaxing as cantering along on your favorite horse.” He grinned. “Or galloping like hell, if that’s your fancy.”

  He wanted to do something nice for her, to make her feel…cherished. He thought for a minute. “If you want to go into town for anything tomorrow afternoon, I’ll take you. Just let me know.” He left without waiting for her reply.

  Leslie watched as he strode toward the stables. Long rhythmic strides punctuated his sexy gait. What made him so sure she didn’t want to know what he wanted from her? She’d gotten tired of the bantering and teasing. He charmed her like a sleek jungle animal that simultaneously menaces, entices and beckons. And she hadn’t wanted him to leave her, but to stay there with her. Not strutting his male prowess, a handsome peacock with his plume spread wide and his cone at full height, but just being himself as he’d been on the boat. Sweet and tender. She’d have to pay more attention to Julia’s ways with Cal, because there was a lot she didn’t know.

  She noticed him watching her all through supper that evening, and she wished he’d stop it. The butter intended for her biscuit slid instead to her jeans, and to her chagrin he saw it. That and the way her fingers shook when she reached for a crab cake. She made herself look at his face, intending to censure him, but his smile sent butterflies swirling around in her stomach. She stared at her plate, because she could feel Julia’s eyes on her.

  “How about going for your first riding lesson around seven-thirty this evening, Leslie? It’ll be cooler then, and the horses will enjoy the chance to stretch out.”