After a while he said, “Pull over at the next turnout. I’ll take over.”
“I’m fine.”
His eyes trailed her slowly. “Yes, you are. But I’d like to drive.”
This time there was no stopping the flush up her neck. What had gotten into him anyway? “Morgan, I think it would be better … it makes me uncomfortable …” When my mouth and my brain disconnect?She could give a flawless PowerPoint presentation for the entire school and never miss a word.
“Here’s one on the right.” He pointed.
She slowed into the turnout and brought the car to a stop. They both got out and Morgan waited at her door until she slid in. Then he closed the door and walked around.
“I’ll be glad to drive again.”
He slid into his seat. “That’s already more than anyone else has done.”
“Don’t I feel special.” Then when he didn’t answer, she stammered, “For getting to drive the car, for being the only one who …” She clamped her lips shut.
Wrist draped over the wheel, he turned to her, indigo eyes like the night sky over Antarctica. “It didn’t mean anything.”
Of course it didn’t. If there were a hole handy she’d climb right in. Maybe the drop-off would do. But she nodded mutely, her throat squeezing, then focused on the scenery as he pulled out much faster than she would have dared.
He knew exactly what she had intended to say. Don’t do or say anything that might suggest there was something between them. “It makes me uncomfortable …” The throbbing in his head had dulled to a nagging burn—nothing he couldn’t deal with. What he couldn’t deal with were her flippant remarks. “Don’t I feel special?”
He shoved his breath out through his teeth, then wove out and around a slower car plugging along the divided mountain grade, letting the silence of the road take the edge from his mood. How much time would he give Ascon, Inc. to respond? Another month, possibly. After that Marlina Aster could find another turnaround specialist. He had more pressing concerns at the moment anyway.
Last night’s call to Bern Gershwin had set things in motion financially. “Are you crazy? You’re liquidating that kind of money to gift a foundation without—”
“I want it ready, Bern. The procedure is on Thursday. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars to start with. The funds have to be there.”
“Paternity is not legally established. You’re throwing in the only card you might hold in order to force an interview.”
Those words had sunk in. “I can’t worry about that now.” He could sue later if it came to it, show that they had accepted his gift.
“Well, here’s what you can worry about. If you sell those tech stocks now when they’re in the basement, that’s a hit you will not recover from. Your portfolio is less than half its worth already.”
“Thanks for the reminder.”
“You’re not thinking this through, Morgan. Get with me at the first chance. I’ll make room. Someone needs to be objective.”
“That’s a luxury I don’t have.” But he promised to play racquetball when he got back in town.
No, he was not objective at the moment. His daughter needed more than his marrow, and the funds had to be transferred for Kelsey’s care to go forward. Try to handle that objectively. Jill had placed her in a family that scratched by, had mortgaged everything already for her care, and couldn’t even find decent insurance. Drywall.
He darted out around a van huffing along in the left lane and noticed Jill’s knuckles pale on the edge of her seat. There was quite a drop-off to the right. He slid back over smoothly. He had no intention of putting them over the edge. Not before his marrow was safely inside his daughter.
Of course, there was still the agreement to be available for several more years if further draws were necessary, and more immediately for plasma and the like. The fewer different blood factors she had to deal with the better. And all of that took money, and most of his money was accounted for in nonliquid assets, such as his mortgaged four-million-dollar home, and growth stocks that had flattened for the moment. He had seen the tech-market crash coming and held only the ones he thought would rebound. They hadn’t yet, and this was not a good time to liquidate.
But no one had consulted him. He eased up on the gas and sensed Jill’s relief. He hadn’t been that far over the top, but then she probably had little experience with the Rocky Mountain curves and plunges.
He put in an Eagles CD and cranked up “Hotel California.” He was almost ready to eat, and Jill had to be, too. He glanced at her again. That fierce control was worse than her insouciant remarks. He reached over and touched her hand. “Are you hungry?”
“I guess.”
“Fast food, or do you want to go in somewhere?”
She swallowed. “It doesn’t matter.”
Something besides hunger twisted his stomach, something like guilt. Oh, there was always guilt connected with Jill. But he had been harsher than he intended. She was only trying to get along. As the needle of his speedometer reached ninety, he eased off the gas again and put the Thunderbird on cruise. He settled back in his seat and realized there would not be many food opportunities for a while. Well, she hadn’t sounded famished, only hurt.
He sighed. This madcap idea was proving harder than he’d thought. At least she stayed focused on the scenery, which gradually changed from forested mountain slopes to stark red mesa canyons through Glenwood Springs and beyond. In Grand Junction, he exited and found a Taco Bell drive-up.
Jill said, “I need to use their rest room.”
“Okay.” He pulled through and parked instead. They could stretch and take care of all their needs with one stop. She was out before he had the engine turned off. He watched her cross the parking lot on her long, fluid legs in those halfway-down-the-calf pants. If anything, her legs were more defined and shapely than before. Not that it helped to notice.
He climbed out and took in the towering stone walls that surrounded the area like a bowl, desolate eroded cliffs with flat mesa tops surrounding the green land of the irrigated valley. The edge of civilization was stark; one side of the highway lush with grass, trees, and orchards, the other rutted peaks of dirt, stone, and heat. Amazing.
He went inside, visited the men’s room, and met Jill at the counter. She’d already purchased a couple tacos, accomplishing her intention of going dutch. He ordered three tacos and a Pepsi, and by the time he joined her at the table, she was halfway into her first taco.
As she reached for her water cup, he caught her hand. “I’m sorry for being irascible.”
“It’s all right. Morgan …” She tugged her fingers in his hold. Touchy, wasn’t she?
He caught it between both of his. “You said friends. Dan was way friendlier than this.”
Her eyes flattened. “It’s hard to eat tacos one-handed.”
He smiled. She did have a point. He let go and bit into the crunchy taco, warm spicy meat and cold lettuce with a touch of cheese. He chewed it slowly, studying her face. He still had two left when she finished, but she got up and cleared her trash, then seemed lost whether to sit down again. He stood and motioned her to the chair. “Don’t worry, I only bite in the morning.”
She sat down, probably wishing she had not rushed through her meal and left her hands with nothing to do.
“Would you like something more?”
She shook her head. “No thanks.”
“Did you get your letters done?”
Her gaze finally lighted. “Some of them. I had some mail to deal with, as well.” A flush crept over her features.
Must have been personal. “Dan?”
Her brow puckered. “What? No, it wasn’t Dan. Morgan …”
“I know. Off limits.”
“It’s just not what you think.”
He cocked his head. “Those photos were strongly incriminating.”
Another flush. “Well, Dan is … physical. But we’re not … we weren’t …” She huffed her frustration.
“Intimate?”
She snatched his taco wrappers and wadded them, shoved them into the bag, and wadded it so tightly it popped.
He caught her wrist. “Do you think I care whether you and Dan got it on?”
She jerked her hand away with a look somewhere between kicked puppy and attack dog. Obviously not a wise choice of words.
“Jill, your love life is your business. I was just making conversation.”
She got to her feet, stalked to the trash bin and deposited the bag, then walked out. Morgan took a last drag on his soda, then tossed it in the trash and followed her. She stood at the car, way more shaken than circumstances warranted.
He had the keyless remote in hand, but he didn’t unlock the door. “Jill.” He fingered the buttons on the remote. “I don’t know what has you so frosted.”
She turned her face away.
“Why don’t you tell me so I can avoid it next time.” He hadn’t meant to be cruel. If he had a clue, he’d undo it. “Did you want me to care? Is that it?”
She pressed her hands to her eyes. “It was your automatic assumption.”
He backpedaled and met her thoughts. That she and Dan had something going? So what?
She sucked a jagged breath and faced him. “I’ve spent fifteen years avoiding indiscretion. Rebuilding trust and respect.”
He searched her face, catching her thrust.
“Dan hugged and kissed me. Nothing more—with him or anyone else.”
It shouldn’t hurt, but it did. Jill was too warm, too loving to have closed herself off in some attempt to recapture her virtue. Fifteen years avoiding indiscretion? No wonder she was so uptight. “Why didn’t you marry someone?”
Her breaths came sharp and quick. “I just … there wasn’t …”
He pulled her softly to his chest and closed her into his arms. “All right, don’t try to talk. Just breathe.”
“With you holding me?”
Smiling, he cradled her head. “Aw, c’mon, Jill. What are friends for?”
“We don’t do friends well, Morgan.”
True. He wanted nothing more than to turn her face up and kiss her. That would probably merit CPR. He pressed his cheek to the crown of her head, trying to understand what she’d told him, and understanding too well. The trauma of their relationship had rendered her unable to accept another.
He closed his eyes, knowing that trauma too well.
“Please, Morgan.”
He let her go and touched the button to disarm the alarm and unlock her door. She slid in with obvious relief. There ought to be something more he could say, but silence stretched between them. After twenty minutes of driving, she was asleep.
CHAPTER
21
Jill woke with a jolt, and Morgan soothed her with a hand to her arm. She cleared her throat. “Where are we?”
“South of Richfield, Utah. I-15. We’ll take it down through Nevada and stay the night in Las Vegas.”
“Can’t we make it all the way in?”
He glanced at her. “It would be really late.”
“I can drive some of it.” She rubbed her face, coming awake. Another night in a hotel was not a good idea, especially in a place like Sin City. She wanted this trip over.
“We’ll stop in Vegas.”
Maybe when they got there, she could convince him to go on. She looked around her. “You said Utah?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“How far are we from Salt Lake?”
“Way south. There’s a map in the glove box.”
She opened it and pulled out the map. A small square fluttered to the floor. She picked it up and stared at her own senior picture, the one she’d given him in exchange for his.
Morgan frowned. “That was for the reunion. So I’d recognize you.”
She looked from the picture to his face. Had he really doubted he would? His features were so impressed on her, she could never have forgotten. She would never need a photo to know him.
“If you open up the map, you’ll see we’re down near the bottom of the state and heading southwest. We’ll clip the tip of Arizona, then enter Nevada.”
But she slid the map back into the glove box, along with her picture, and snapped it shut. Her sleep had almost driven away the tension between them, but even now she felt his arms around her, his chest hard and strong against her face. Why had he bridged that gap? Because she admitted hugging Dan?
He turned up the music.
She didn’t recognize the CD he had playing. “What group is this?”
“Scorpions. This song’s ‘Rock You Like a Hurricane.’” He showed her the case.
“I haven’t heard of them.” She listened mostly to Christian groups. Morgan, it seemed, had more varied and harder tastes.
But that song ended and another began, a slow, melodic electric guitar intro, then a male voice softly sang about time, needing time to win back the love he’d lost. Jill leaned her head to the side as the melancholy strains whispered to her ears that he would be there, he would be there. She did not want to hear another love song with Morgan, but its beauty was hard to resist. And with it came thoughts of all they’d done wrong. “I’m still loving you ….”
Jill ached. Much more of this, and she’d wish she had stayed home. She couldn’t even suspect Morgan had chosen that song intentionally because he looked as melancholy as she. Yet he played it to the end, saying only, “They’re a German group, although they record in English. You can hear it in some of the words.”
The scenery they drove through at the tip of Arizona was stunning, the road weaving through the massive stone formations in sweeping curves. Morgan had put the top down once she woke up, and the sun blazed in a cloudless sky, dropping slowly as they entered the Nevada desert region.
“Are you hot?”
She nodded, and he closed up the car and turned on the air. But it had been wonderful going through that awesome landscape with nothing overhead to limit the view.
“We should be into Vegas by dinnertime.”
“I really think we could go all the way. Why start again in the morning?” Especially with the slow, painful starts he made.
Morgan draped his wrist over the wheel. “I booked two rooms at the Bellagio for tonight.”
“The Bellagio?”
“A little place on the strip. It’s got some paintings you’ll enjoy.” He sent her a glance. “Oh, and I got tickets to a show.”
“What show?”
“O.”
She gathered her brow. “What?”
“Cirque du Soleil aquatic theater. Tenth row.”
“Oh my gosh. I can’t believe it.”
“Still want to drive through?”
She gripped her hands together. “Well … no.” She laughed. “Cirque du Soleil. Oh, Morgan.” She should not encourage his extravagance.
“Just don’t tell Tara.”
The sister she’d met when she went to see Celia. “Would she like it?”
“She’s crazy about acrobatics.”
Jill pictured her vibrant face. “I can imagine.” At his puzzled glance she said, “I met her when I went over to get your address.”
He frowned but didn’t fume. “She’s an imp. Way too much like me.”
Jill smiled. “How?”
“Well, for one thing she’s a ham. Give her an audience and she will perform. She’s got an opinion on everything, and her mouth’s hinged in the middle.”
“I’m sure you’ve spoiled her rotten.”
“I’ve given it my very best shot.”
Jill loved the tone in his voice when he talked about his family. “How’s your dad?”
“He never changes. I think he’s Moses or something. Just keeps tapping his staff and all manner of things go right.”
Jill pictured Hank Spencer. Morgan had gotten his deep blue eyes from him. So had Kelsey, then. “Have you spoken with them since …”
“You dropped your little bombshell? No.”
Her spirit sank. “I didn’t know what else to do. You only list a postoffice box, and I didn’t want to tell you everything in a letter. Why don’t you have a street address?”
“I do. I just don’t let it out.”
“Your mother was very kind, once she got over the shock.”
He switched hands on the wheel. “Nowhere near the shock I’d give your mother showing up at her door.” Jill blanched. “Morgan …”
“What’s the matter?” He threw the mock question with a wicked grin.
“Swear to me you will not do that.”
He eyed her a long moment. “So they’re not apprised of this situation.”
She swallowed hard. “They don’t know anything about Kelsey. They don’t even know I made sure my aunt would give them my number if she ever wanted to find me.”
“They think you’re off with me on a pleasure trip?”
She rubbed her face. “They don’t know I’m out of town. I forgot to call.”
“Forgot?”
“All right, avoided. Morgan …” Again her mind would not send the words to her mouth.
“That’s okay, Jill. You can perform your act of mercy in secret and return with no one the wiser.”
“It’s not that. They just wouldn’t understand.” She loosened the seat belt across her chest. “They would take it personally.”
“That you’ve consorted yet again with the devil?”
Pain broke over her at his words. She wanted to deny it, but it was far too close to their perception. “They blame both of us.”
“Really.”
“It’s true. It has taken everything in me to win back the modicum of respect I have.”
He frowned. “Maybe I should have that talk with them after all.”
“No.” She gripped his forearm without thinking.
He looked down at her hand. “You’re shaking.”
She drew her hand away. “It’s just … difficult.”
“It’s been fifteen years, Jill. They’re still punishing you?”
She drew a jagged breath. “I think it’s me. I can’t get past how I hurt them.”
“You hurt them?” He almost spit the words.
This was not good. She had touched a nerve. “Can we talk about something else?”
The Still of Night Page 26