by K. N. Casper
Footage of the ceremony rolled across both screens, his wife standing on one side, the governor of the state on the other.
“Clark was an active member of the Coyote Springs community,” Marlee said, “who generously contributed his time and energy to many charitable causes, but he is best remembered for his role in helping establish Alegre, the Therapeutic Riding Center for handicapped adults and children.”
A clip showed him with a helmeted young woman with braces on her legs, her face wide with an endearing, beaming grin, as she sat atop a horse. The film was nearly fifteen years old. Talia’s daughter had died two years later of complications resulting from the injuries she’d sustained in the car accident that had crippled her. Marlee had hesitated showing it, but Talia had given her enthusiastic permission. Marlee wondered what effect it was having on the woman sitting a few seats away.
A montage followed: boys and girls with a variety of disabilities, adult men and women, some quite aged. All of them smiling broadly as volunteers walked beside their horses and ponies.
Renn summed up. “Clark Van Pelt is survived by his wife of twenty-eight years, Audrey Dempsey Van Pelt, and their three sons. He died the way he lived, an unselfish hero.”
Mrs. Talia Preiser, dry eyed and smiling, joined them at the podium, as the audience applauded. She gave Marlee a heartfelt hug, warmly shook Renn’s hand and kissed him on the cheek.
“Clark gave hope and inspiration to the hundreds of clients we’ve served in the past fifteen years,” she said into the mike a minute later. “He touched the lives of countless children, of old people, of people who have had to fight to maintain their dignity in the face of traumatic, life-altering injuries and diseases. We miss him, but he hasn’t really left us. His good works live on.”
Renn glanced over at Marlee. The tears of a couple months earlier were under control now, but the sadness in her glazed eyes was no less intense.
Clark’s portrait filled both screens, and the dinner guests gave a standing ovation as Audrey joined the three at the podium and embraced them all.
Awards were then distributed to various members of the Alegre staff, including Audrey Van Pelt herself. Thanks were given to various individual and corporate sponsors, Anthony and Myra Reid among them.
Throughout it all, Renn was most aware of Marlee, but he also kept an eye on Faye and Taggart. She smiled and clapped at the appropriate times and seemed genuinely touched by the ceremonies. Taggart, sitting beside her, had a perpetual scowl on his face.
The formalities concluded, the ballroom staff removed the big round tables from the middle of the room and the orchestra returned. Instead of classical music, they played the big-band sound of the thirties and forties.
“Would you like to dance?” Renn asked, when the musicians broke into Hoagie Carmichael’s “Star-dust.”
“I’m not sure we should,” she said.
“I am. We’re here to socialize, so let’s be sociable. Other people are dancing, including Faye and Taggart.”
She searched the room and saw them. Not exactly hanging on to each other, but they were dancing.
“I’d be delighted,” she said.
They moved to the middle of the floor, directly under the massive chandelier, which had been dimmed to make the room more intimate. He took her hand in his and circled her waist. They left a modest inch between them, but propriety didn’t last. By the second verse they were touching. By the third they were in still closer contact.
Her hair brushed his cheek. Her scent seeped into him. Renn closed his eyes and luxuriated in the sensation of her body, her feminine curves ranged against him. His pulse tripped. He felt himself hardening and wanted to bury his head against the soft column of her neck. Cruelly, mercifully, the music ended and they established space between them.
The next number was “In the Mood,” a fast one. Marlee started toward a small table that had been set up on the perimeter. Renn grabbed her wrist, spun her around and lowered her into a dip. Her startled expression—one of surprised delight—shot adrenaline through his system.
“Up to it?” he whispered, as he looked down at her.
Her lips curled. Her eyes narrowed. “Try me.”
Woman, his libido screamed, don’t tempt me.
With a sure, strong tug, he pulled her up, and they began a lively jitterbug. Within a minute the floor had cleared and people were standing around it, their toes tapping as they watched Marlee spin and kick to the magical beat.
Applause and cheers greeted them when the music stopped. Still holding hands, they grinned at each other and bowed to their appreciative audience. At the bar in the corner, they both asked for soft drinks to quench their thirst while they received the congratulations of those around them.
Taggart came up and ordered a couple of Manhattans from the bartender. “You two have been practicing,” he said with a grin that would have been perceived as friendly on anyone else.
“As a matter of fact,” Renn replied, “this is the first time we’ve ever danced together. How about you and Faye? Your maiden voyage, too?”
The question caught him momentarily off guard. He was about to say something, when the man behind the bar handed him his cocktails. “You were both very good out there. I was impressed,” he said, quickly turned away and started wending his way back to where Faye sat with several other guests.
“Gee,” Renn said, “I think he paid us a compliment. I wonder why.”
Marlee chuckled. “Probably to throw you off track. You notice he got away without answering your question.”
Renn laughed. “How about some air?”
“Definitely.”
He opened the French doors behind the portable bar, and they slipped outside. The balcony was big enough for only two people, so they were assured of privacy. The night was cool and dry, the slight breeze refreshing after the heavy air of the ballroom.
“Where’d you learn to dance like that?” she asked.
He grinned. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”
“Mother insisted I take ballroom dancing lessons when I was a teenager. I hated them at the time, but I can do the waltz, the polka and the tango, as well as several other numbers no one has performed in a century or two.”
“Great for costume parties. I noticed she wasn’t one of the people rushing to congratulate us on our twinkle toes.”
Marlee chuckled. “In case you haven’t noticed, my mother is a snob.”
He lifted an eyebrow at the bitterness behind the sarcasm. “I gather you’re not close.”
“I’ve failed her,” she said, half-mockingly. “She wanted a debutante and got a tomboy.”
He smiled. “Is that why you went into sports reporting instead of news?”
“It was a natural choice for me. When other girls were playing with dolls, I was kicking around a soccer ball or shooting hoops. They took ballet lessons. I enrolled in gymnastics. They learned nursery rhymes. I memorized batting averages and handicaps.”
“Athletics gave you poise and grace,” he noted.
She liked being complimented, but her shy grin intimated that it also made her uncomfortable.
“Please don’t tell my mother that,” she quipped. “She thinks I learned it from walking around with a book on my head at Madame Carmine’s Academy for Young Ladies.”
He chortled. Marlee Reid was beautiful, intelligent and successful in a highly competitive profession, yet she couldn’t win the approval of her parents.
She was also close enough on the narrow balcony that Renn had only to raise his hand to brush his knuckles across the fine line of her jaw. “Not a tomboy,” he said softly. “A very charming, sophisticated woman of the world.”
She lowered her eyes, took hold of his hand and placed a delicate kiss on it. “Thank you.”
He wanted to wrap his arms around her, experience once more the caress of her body against his. “You’ll have to teach me to tango sometime.”
“I suspect you’ll be a q
uick study.” She took a sip of her ginger ale.
They stood beside each other. Below them the Coyote River meandered its way through town, dark swaths of pecan and live oak trees lining its banks. A nearly full moon hung in a cloudless sky, illuminating the stiff gothic forms of commercial buildings and the graceful gables of residences.
“Tell me about your marriage.” He kept his eyes straight ahead, but he was fully aware of the woman standing beside him. She didn’t stiffen at the invitation to discuss what must have been an unhappy episode in her life, but she did pause before responding.
“His name is Barry Taylor,” she said quietly. “We went to TUCS together and majored in broadcast journalism, got married right after graduation and considered ourselves blessed when we were both hired by the same TV station in the Southeast, he as a news reporter, me as a sports producer. He was good. Within fifteen months he received a dream offer from one of the top-twenty stations in the country. I still had nine months remaining on my two-year contract, so Barry went on ahead. Three months later I decided to surprise him with a visit. Well, the joke was on me. I found him exploring cloud nine with the weekend weather bunny.”
She fell silent. Renn sensed old pain and that resignation had supplanted anger. She’d loved the guy and he’d hurt her badly. That kind of wound took a long time to heal. It also left scars.
“I divorced him and went my own separate way.”
Fighting an uphill battle because of gender bias in this high-profile industry, Renn reminded himself, a bias he’d bought into and propagated. He covered her fingers clutching the ornate, wrought-iron railing, felt the gentle throb beneath the soft, smooth skin, lifted the hand and coaxed her around to face him. Leaning closer, he kissed her on the lips. A gentle touching. No more. But it was enough to confirm what he’d hoped: that she wasn’t averse to his proximity.
Her eyes were still closed when he pulled away. He was tempted to reestablish contact, when she opened them. Her gaze lingered before she caressed his cheek, then she turned and stared out across the drowsy city.
“He was a fool,” Renn murmured.
She seemed to weigh his words, not sure if they were true. “We better go back inside.”
He wished she weren’t right. The company of others wasn’t on his mind at the moment. Only hers.
Over the next hour, between conversations with people they knew and accepting compliments on the program they’d presented, they were able to squeeze in a waltz and a polka. No more slow, intimate fox-trots, though. Marlee wondered if it was because of Taggart’s remarks and his insinuation that their relationship went beyond the purely professional. No tango, either. That would have to wait for another time.
Not that her mind had really been on her footwork or his. She kept recollecting the sensation of his kiss. A chaste kiss, she reminded herself, though chastity wasn’t exactly what his lips had stirred.
He never did tell her where he’d learned to dance, Marlee ruminated later as they were driving back to her place.
“It’s not very late,” he said.
She checked the digital clock on his dashboard. Nearly midnight.
“How about a cup of coffee?”
Caffeine didn’t really interest her, especially at this hour. She was stirred up enough just being with him, but the thought of going home to her empty apartment held no appeal. Not tonight.
“If I can get decaf.”
“I think that can be arranged.”
“Where do you want to go?” The only place she knew of that would be open was a twenty-four-hour truck stop on the outskirts of town.
“My place.”
What was he proposing? One little, innocent kiss… Surely, he wasn’t suggesting…
“I have something I’d like to show you.” He didn’t look over at her, just concentrated on the dark road ahead.
“Your etchings?” she jested.
“Would you like to see my etchings?” He slanted her a crooked smile. “I was referring to my boat.”
“Boat?”
He chuckled. “It’s nothing fancy. Just a catamaran. But when I heard you talking so fondly about sailing this evening…well, I thought maybe you’d like to see it.”
“At night?” Humor flavored her voice. She had a sudden image of them groping in the dark. The notion brought heat to her face and a strange stirring in her belly.
“I have dockside lights.” He glanced over at her this time. “If you’d rather not… I mean, we can do it another time, if you’re even interested.”
His sudden shyness emboldened her. If she hadn’t worked with him for more than half a year and gotten a glimpse of his more gentle, caring side, she would have said no. Maybe she was being foolish, too credulous, but she felt safe with him.
“Do we need to stop off for decaf?”
He looked over and grinned broadly. “Yes.”
She laughed. “There’s a supermarket two blocks over that stays open late on Saturday night.”
They went inside together, he in his tuxedo, she in her evening gown. He bought a pound of premium beans and a tin of Danish cookies. The clerk at the checkout smiled at them.
“Been to a prom?” she asked.
“Not in about twenty years,” he told her. “But thanks for asking.”
“The Alegre dinner,” Marlee explained.
“The therapeutic riding group? Oh, aren’t they great?” the woman exclaimed. “My neighbor’s eight-year-old son has cerebral palsy and goes there every week. He absolutely loves it, and so does his mom. Say, you’re Marlee Reid, aren’t you? I’ve seen you on TV.”
Marlee smiled. Being recognized was always a boost to the ego.
“Your interview with those basketball players was a hoot. I don’t usually watch the sports—unless my son or one of his friends are going to be on. He plays midget soccer, so that doesn’t happen often. Austin isn’t very good yet, but his father swears next year he’ll be the star kicker. Anyway, when I found out where you did that interview I had to watch. Wow! You were way cool, a lot more than I would have been. I mean being right there, surrounded by all those—” She looked up at Renn and actually blushed. “Well, you know.”
Marlee chuckled. Complete strangers often discussed the most intimate details with people they recognized from TV, as if they were old friends.
“I bet you miss Clark,” the woman continued more seriously, as if glad to change the subject. “I never met him, but he seemed like a nice man. Are you going to take over for him now that he’s…er…gone.”
Marlee could feel Renn studying her. “Nothing’s been decided yet. It’s still too early.”
“Well, I hope you do get it. I don’t like that other guy, Maggot, or whatever his name is. Reminds me of my sister’s husband. A real jerk.”
Renn handed her a twenty-dollar bill, winked at Marlee and accepted his change.
“Y’all come back now, hear,” the woman said, as they left.
“You got a vote in there,” Renn commented, starting his car.
“Too bad it’s not a popularity contest.”
Marlee’s attention was soon diverted when they pulled into Renn’s driveway. His lake house wasn’t especially big or luxurious. Quite ordinary, really. But the moment she stepped inside the front door, she felt comfortable in it.
The large living room constituted almost half the floor plan and had a picture window that offered a sweeping view of the lake. Tonight the moon-struck water sparkled like diamonds on black velvet. To her right she glimpsed a small kitchen and breakfast nook. On her left were two rooms, one of which appeared to be an office. The furnishings throughout were simple and masculine, but what captivated Marlee was the air of serenity about the place. This was the home of a man who was content with himself.
The kitchen, she discovered when she followed him there, was utilitarian, though there was a healthy pothos plant on the windowsill. The room was also neat and clean. Whatever happened to the bachelor image of dirty dishes piled up in
the sink and greasy frying pans left on the stove? He probably doesn’t cook that much, she thought. Yet when he went to a drawer to get out a coffee filter and to an overhead cabinet for cups and saucers, the impression was of a place used, not just occupied.
He ground the beans and set the coffee machine to gurgling. “Let’s go outside.”
They stepped through the breakfast nook’s sliding-glass door, onto a flagstone patio. It was cooler here than in the heart of town. The air was more humid and scented with lilac.
“Are you chilly?” he asked. “I can get a sweater for you to throw over your shoulders.”
“I’m fine,” she said, not sure she was. Would he put his arm around her if she shivered?
“Come take a look.” He clasped her hand and led her down a narrow redbrick path to a wooden dock. Tied to it was a twenty-foot catamaran, its single mast folded down. She read the name emblazoned on the side.
“Why Calico?” she asked.
“After a cat I used to have. She liked to go sailing with me on my old boat.”
He’d had a cat. She hadn’t seen one inside. “Used to have?”
“She died about a year ago at the ripe old age of seventeen. I’ve thought of getting another one, but I’m home so little these days that I don’t think it would be wise to leave it alone for hours on end, especially a kitten. Did you have pets when you were growing up?”
She shook her head. “They’re messy and leave hair all over the place.” At least, that was what her mother had said.
“I’m sorry.” He was still holding her hand. He tugged her around to face him. “Kids need pets,” he murmured. They were only inches apart. Another inch and—
When he kissed her this time, she was prepared. At least she thought she was. His mouth covered hers. His tongue slipped forward and nudged her lips. He explored slowly, tentatively. A soft, sweet moan escaped her when their tongues collided, parted, touched again. Tasted. His arms encircled her. If she had been cold before, she wasn’t now. Heat cascaded through her as she settled into the comfort of his embrace.
Her mind, what little of it was functioning, told her this was crazy. He was her boss. Sex and business didn’t blend.