by Karen Welch
As she slipped off the bed and scurried to the bathroom, he stretched on his back, sinking into the sheets, weariness warring with arousal. When he closed his eyes a vision of Peg standing over him, her fingers gently brushing at his hair, danced against his lids. He murmured in response to some barely comprehended question and felt her wrap herself around him. Not long after, fireworks, much like the display they’d watched over the water at midnight, exploded in his head as he floated to earth with Peg in his arms.
When he opened his eyes again, the room was filled with light—not early morning sunlight, but the harsh, sub-tropic glare of day—and Peg was standing over him again. “Hi,” he managed to push through dry lips.
“Hi yourself. I was beginning to think you were going to sleep until supper.”
Struggling upright, he scrubbed a hand down his face, detecting more than the usual morning stubble. “What time is it?”
“Three in the afternoon.”
“Good heavens. I must have been more exhausted than I realized.” Blinking, he tried to orient himself. “Have you been up long?”
“Since nine. I’ve been shopping. I told everyone not to bother you. Poor thing, you were out like a light as soon as we were done last night.”
“Done? You mean we . . ?” He moved over to allow her to sit beside him on the bed.
“Um-hm. You were amazing, considering you were nine-tenths asleep by the time I came back to bed. I take it as a sign that you really missed me these last few months.”
“Of course I did. I missed you in the past few hours.” Uncomfortably aware of his need for a shower and shave, not to mention the gnawing hunger in his gut, he resisted the urge to take her in his arms.
“That’s nice. Why don’t I order you something to eat while you get cleaned up? I put some fresh clothes in the bathroom for you. Dad’s out on a boat with some friends, so it’s just the two of us this evening.” She nuzzled his shoulder, one hand drifting across his chest. “What would you like to do?”
“Seriously? I’d like to do what we did last night, but this time I’d like to be awake.”
“I’ll think about it.” Nudging him in the ribs, she yanked the sheet off his lap. “Go shower! I want to show you what I bought.”
Struggling to his feet, he pulled the sheet after him and wrapped it around his waist. Not that he minded Peg’s eyes on him, but the drapes had been drawn to reveal a floor to ceiling view of the broad sunlit terrace and swimming pool beyond. He felt exposed and not a little disoriented by the glare off the sparkling water and the swaying palm trees. “Right. But food first, fashion show later, please. I’m starving!”
Promptly picking up the phone, she pressed the intercom, shooing him toward the bathroom. As he turned on the water, he heard her speaking to someone, presumably in the kitchen. On the marble vanity were his shaving kit and underwear, while hanging on a hook behind the door he spotted shirt and trousers, their travel creases already pressed out.
“Taking care of me, are you?” he called as he stepped into the tiled shower and closed the door.
“Of course. I asked Adamson to move your things in here with mine. He was only slightly scandalized.” Leaning in the open doorway, she crossed her arms and appraised him with a warm gleam in her eyes.
“I can imagine. Although he always seemed to approve of me. He told me years ago he hoped I’d stay around.” He stuck his head under the warm spray, rinsing out the shampoo which he realized would leave him smelling like Peg.
“And now you can.”
“For a few days at a time, anyway.” Turning off the taps, he opened the door and held out a dripping hand. “As long as you’re going to loiter in here, pass me a towel please.”
“Or longer, if you wanted to.”
Vigorously rubbing his hair, he wasn’t sure he’d understood. “What?”
She hesitated, her gaze dropping, the warmth replaced by uncertainty. “You could stay around indefinitely if you took the job Bernie Silverman’s going to offer you this weekend.”
Stark naked and dripping wet, he stared at her with his mouth hanging open. “Hold on there. What are you talking about?”
“Bernie will be here this weekend. When he heard you were coming over, he sort of invited himself down.”
“And how exactly did he hear I was coming?”
“Dad.”
“Ah. Is this another of your father’s attempts to coerce Silverman into offering me a job?’
“No. This time it’s Bernie’s idea. I’m sure he’ll tell you all about it when he gets here.”
Wrapping the towel around his waist, he stepped out of the shower and strode across to her. “Is that what you want, for me to move to New York?”
Peg’s head jerked around at the discreet rapping on the door. “Your food is here. Get dressed.”
He watched her cross the room, clenching his jaw in frustration. As quickly as he could manage, he dressed and padded barefoot to the table by the windows overlooking the terrace.
“Would you rather eat outside?”
“No. I’d rather finish our conversation.”
“Kendall, don’t be upset. I’m sure Bernie just wanted to get out of New York for a few days and your being here provided an excuse.”
“But you haven’t answered my question. If he made me an offer, would you want me to accept?”
“It would make Dad very happy.”
Stabbing a forkful of omelet, he tried again. “Would it make you happy?”
Dropping her gaze to his chest, a sure sign she was about to say something less than completely honest, she answered, “It would be nice, wouldn’t it, to see each other more often?”
“Of course it would be, but I can’t just walk away from my job, or my commitment to the quartet. Besides, I thought you wanted to take things slowly.”
With a sigh and a little shake of her head, she said softly, “I do. But I can’t seem to convince Dad I’m happy with the way things are. He seems so disappointed every time I tell him I’m not in any hurry to get married.”
Reaching across the table, he lifted her chin until her eyes met his. “Making your father happy is not my goal, Peg. And neither should it be yours, beyond a certain point.”
“I know. I just feel I owe it to him. Don’t forget you were the one who pointed out how much he’s done for me, when he really didn’t have to.”
He chewed slowly on a bite of ham as well as on her logic. “So this isn’t about my throwing over my career in London to come to New York so we can be together, as much as it is about showing your gratitude to your father for allowing you to grow up as his daughter?”
“No! I mean, I suppose that has something to do with it, but I’m not asking you to ‘throw over’ your career! I just thought if you talked with Bernie, Dad might stop nagging me about when I’m going to marry you. It wouldn’t hurt to talk to him, would it?’
“No. But can’t see how it would help your situation. Until you agree to marry me, it sounds as though your father is going to be. . .what was the word. . .disappointed.”
“I suppose so.” Just like that, she closed herself off, leaving him feeling guilty for he wasn’t sure what failing.
He finished his meal, trying to ignore the awkward silence. Finally folding his napkin and tucking it under the empty plate, he sat back with a groan. “That was delicious. I know Adamson is around here somewhere, and Simon met me at the airport. Is Mrs. Leary in the kitchen?”
“No, she stayed in New York. We hired a chef here. He’s very good, but a little bit temperamental. Mrs. Leary has us spoiled, I suppose.” With a sigh, she got up and wandered to the window. “Do you ever wish we were still a secret?”
“No. But I do wish things were simpler. More for your sake than for mine.” Holding out his hand, he said gently, “Come here, sweetheart.” She balanced on his knee, letting him put his arms around her, although she was much too stiff to suit him. “It’s been a year since we began this courtship of ours. Y
ou told me then you wanted to take things slowly, that you weren’t sure marriage was something you were ready for. Has anything happened to change that?”
“No. Not really.”
“While I wish that were not the case, I’m still willing to go on the way we have been. Are you?”
She finally met his eyes, and he saw the sincerity there. “Of course I am. I can’t imagine my life without you. It’s just that. . .”
“That you’re not prepared to marry me. Why?”
“You know why.”
“Refresh my memory.”
“We live on opposite sides of an ocean. And we both have jobs we don’t want to give up.”
“And?”
“And I’m not sure I’d make a very good wife.”
“Now there’s where we disagree. However, the first two things are still true. It seems to me until you change your thinking with regard to the third, changing the others would be pointless. Am I right?”
“Yes. But I can’t explain that to Dad. He’d just laugh and tell me I can do anything I put my mind to.”
“I’d have to go along with that.” He brushed his knuckles down her cheek.
“You’re not helping, you know?”
“I’m not trying to. I want you to change your mind because you love me enough to take the risk. Until then, I think we go on the way we are. I’m willing to consider making a move in the future, if you’re willing to marry me once I do. But I can’t up and quit right now just to take the pressure off you. You do understand that, don’t you?”
“Yes. But would you at least talk to Bernie? It couldn’t hurt, could it?”
“No. I admit I’m curious to hear what he has to say.”
“That’s a start. I think Dad will be satisfied with that.”
“I’m not doing this to satisfy your father. But if it makes things easier for you, I’m willing to listen. Please don’t be upset when that’s all I do.”
“I won’t be. And thank you.” Melting against him, she wrapped her arms round his neck.
“For what exactly?”
“Understanding. Being so patient with me.”
“Is that all I get, just a ‘thank you?’”
“As a matter of fact, no. I have presents for you.”
“Presents? Were you expecting me to deserve a reward for my understanding and patience, or were you just hopeful?”
“Actually, they have nothing to do with our conversation. I had planned to save that for later, but it just sort of slipped out about Bernie coming.”
“I see. Just what sort of presents are we talking about? I think the one I’m holding right now is more than sufficient.”
Peg rolled her eyes with a little smirk. “You can have me whenever you want. I bought you some new clothes.” Hopping to her feet, she started toward the stack of bags and boxes near the door.
“Why do I need new clothes?”
“I went through the things you brought and you don’t have anything suitable for Palm Beach.” He watched her carry the collection to the bed and begin dumping bags and pulling the lids off boxes.
“You don’t mean you bought me Bermuda shorts or those awful flowery shirts Americans are notorious for?”
“No shorts and no flowers, I promise. But you can’t go around wearing tweed in Florida, even in January. You needed a bathing suit for the pool and something for the barbeque this weekend. And we’ve been invited to play tennis tomorrow morning, so. . .voila!” Spinning around, she displayed a set of tennis whites fit for the pro circuit.
“But I don’t have a racket with me.”
“You will. We’ll go to the pro shop early and you can pick one out. Do you like them?” Waving a hand over the bed, she waited for him to approve the assortment of obviously expensive garments.
“Very nice. Thank you.” He joined her, draping an arm around her shoulders as he stared down at the clothes. “I suppose I would stand out a bit dressed as a humble British musician among all your glittering society friends here.”
Peg looked up with a frown. “You’re not offended are you?”
“No, love. It was very thoughtful of you to see to it I fit in. The last thing I want is to embarrass you.”
“You could never embarrass me, Kendall. I just wanted you to be comfortable here.” Her face fell and she moved away, suddenly busy folding things and tucking them back in boxes.
“Hey, come here.” Pulling her back around, he raised her chin to see tears in her eyes. “What’s this really about, brat?”
“I’m not sure. It feels strange, knowing everyone is watching us and wondering about us.”
“There was a time when you said you wanted to show me off to your friends.”
“And now I’d rather keep you all to myself, I guess.”
“Sorry, but I’m afraid the cat’s out of the bag. I’m pretty sure there was a camera on us when you kissed me at midnight last night. That’s likely to make the papers, isn’t it?”
“It already has. They called you my fiancé.”
“Ah. So now we’re getting down to it. First your father pressuring you, Silverman coming to bribe me with a job offer, and now all of Palm Beach will be expecting an announcement followed by wedding bells. Poor darling, no wonder you went on a shopping spree.”
“Am I really that superficial?” She came into his arms, resting her head on his chest.
“Not superficial. I’ve just noticed shopping seems to be your way of handling sticky situations. Somehow, I foresee a good bit of shopping in our future, until you realize marrying me makes perfect sense.”
“Don’t you start, too.”
“What, I can’t jump on the bandwagon when I’m the one who would benefit most?”
“Too much to ask?”
“No. I did promise not to put any pressure on you. I suppose as long as mine is the name in the society columns beside yours, I should be happy.” He tipped her face up and brushed a tentative kiss across her mouth. “And there’s the added bonus of being the man in your bed. What say I shave while you clear all this away and then we can spend what’s left of the afternoon just enjoying one another?”
“Is that really what you want to do?” She was already melting against him, her hands sliding beneath the tail of his shirt.
“Right at the top of my list.”
Chapter Forty-seven
Two years sounded like a long time. Plenty of time to make the transition from his current situation in England to a new one and very different one in New York. Time for his mother to adjust to the idea, the quartet to find a replacement for him, and decisions to be made regarding the property in Hertford. Time to convince Peg that marriage would be worth the risk. As he listened passively to Bernard Silverman, Kendall’s brain was systematically ticking down the list. At the end of the discussion, held in the shade of a large umbrella beside the swimming pool, as both of them lounged in swimsuits sipping cold beer from sweating glasses, he excused himself to find Peg and dress for dinner. If Silverman didn’t seem surprised that Kendall hadn’t leapt at his offer, he at least seemed mildly nonplussed.
Peg was waiting, fresh from a bath and wrapped in a soft cotton robe, when he returned to her room. “Well, what did he say?”
“Who?” He immediately tugged at the sash, sliding his hands inside the robe and bending to nuzzle her forehead.
“Kendall! What did Bernie say?”
“Oh. Something about his first violin giving him notice that he’ll be retiring after two more seasons.” Lifting her hair, he found the sweet spot beneath her ear, eliciting the desired sigh.
“And?” With another sigh, she pushed impatiently at his chest.
“And he said all the usual things about thinking I’d be a good fit and the orchestra would welcome new blood and so on and so forth.” The robe was sliding slowly down her arms, baring shoulders and more, and he glanced at his watch to make sure there was time enough for what he had in mind.
“And what did you say?” S
eeming to pick up the spirit of the thing, Peg started in on the three buttons holding his shirt closed.
“You know, all those other usual things, how honored I was to even be considered, how many factors would be involved in such a major decision, how unless you agreed to marry me he could stuff his old job.” His mouth closed down over hers before she manage more than a muffled protest.
“You didn’t!” She pulled away and jerked the robe across her chest.
Laughing, he wrapped her in his arms again. “Not in so many words. And I only alluded to marriage as a factor. Silverman is nobody’s fool, darling. He knows you hold the key to my decision.”
“So where does that leave things?”
“Two years before the position is up for grabs. A lot can happen in two years. We’ll just have to see, won’t we?”
“But you would like the job, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course. I’m nobody’s fool either. But I meant what I said. It depends on you.”
“What ever happened to not pressuring me?”
“I’m just stating facts. There would be no reason to leave what I have in London unless marriage to you was part of the package. If you feel pressured by that, I’m sorry.”
“What if I moved to London?”
“What?”
“What if we lived in London? You wouldn’t have to make so many changes and I could probably manage to commute often enough to take care of the fundraising.”
“Peg, where did this come from?”
“I’ve been thinking. Asking you to give up your work for me seems unfair. If you didn’t object to my traveling some, you could stay in England. It’s just a thought. Something else to consider.”
He dropped to the foot of the bed, stroking his forehead. “Maybe it was the sun. Or the beer. But my head is spinning.”
“Really?” She joined him, touching his cheek. “You don’t seem overheated.”
He couldn’t hold back a grin. “You’re what has my head spinning, brat. A few days ago, you were looking for any means to quiet the speculation about a future you didn’t think you wanted, one that included marriage. Now you’re suggesting we have not one, but two possible solutions to consider, and they both seem to include just that. I can’t keep up with you.”