Puzzled, Laura followed the young woman outside to where the party guests were gathered on the huge patio area. Rusty Parker, Tiffany's uncle, who looked and sounded exactly like the banker he was, had grabbed Carter the minute he'd arrived and hauled him into a group of men and women, who had hailed him with great respect. Carter had pulled Laura into the circle with him, and had taken pains to include her as much as he could. It was a friendly group, though not quite the party crowd she'd expected. Guests from a variety of ethnic backgrounds ranged in age from twenty to eighty. Some were Native Americans who lived and worked locally, including an artist she'd met previously, who made wonderful wood sculptures using a chain saw. By far the largest majority of guests were business people from Seattle, some of whose names were household words. There were also a few media people. The feeding arrangements were informal—guests helping themselves to food whenever they felt like it. The only drinking going on was at the espresso cart. Conversations dealt variously with the Seattle Symphony, the Mariners baseball team or the controversy regarding timber interests versus the spotted owl.
Laura wasn't intimate with any of the topics, but she'd always enjoyed people watching. Carter, however, kept glancing at her as if afraid she might be bored. That was why she'd suggested that Tiffany give her a tour of the house.
Now Carter was the center of attention. He'd been handed a microphone and was obviously about to give a speech. Some of the people were squatting on the velvety lawn next to the patio and others had seated themselves on the wide porch steps. His black hair tousled by the breeze, Carter waited, without any apparent nervousness, for them to settle down. He looked tall and lean, totally self-confident and outrageously gorgeous in his dark knitted shirt, well-cut tan shorts and boat shoes. He had great legs for a museum curator, Laura had already noticed. He had great legs period.
As soon as everyone was in place, he began talking about the museum, repeating some of the things he'd said to Laura when she'd visited the building. He went on to talk about forging a consciousness of the past and the role of the museum in state history. He talked well, making the already good-natured crowd laugh often, not because of jokes, but because of well-timed humorous comments. He referred to previous times he'd talked to some of them and thanked them for the help they'd given the museum then.
"So here I am again, with figurative hat in hand," he said. "As you know, my grandmother originally endowed the museum. But unfortunately that endowment did not provide for a rate of inflation she could not have foreseen."
He paused. "Who among us could have?" he added.
That comment brought a laugh from everyone. Then Carter went on to talk of Port Dudley's very earliest days— long before it was called Port Dudley—when its only citizens were Native Americans. "There's a story that an anthropologist asked a Native American what his people called America before the white man came. 'Ours,' the man replied."
A law had been passed a couple of years ago, he reminded his audience, that decreed that certain objects must be returned to Native Americans. The Kincaid Museum featured a few artifacts, some clothing, tools and baskets, none of which held particular religious or ceremonial significance. But Carter proposed to use these items as a nucleus with which the local Native American people would establish their own museum, in order to properly display and care for objects and artifacts they owned or that they acquired in the future. An advisory committee had been set up by tribal representatives, several of whom were present and had already been introduced all around. Carter's part of the proceedings, the business people's part of the proceedings, was to make possible the renovation and restoration of the empty building next to the Kincaid Museum, which Carter had already acquired.
Carter went on to talk in detail about the project, which was obviously important to him, holding the audience's rapt attention with ease and grace. Laura was filled with admiration for him, together with a sort of proprietary pride and another emotion she hadn't quite sorted out. And then, as he was winding up his speech, his gaze met hers, apparently by accident. Perhaps something of what she'd been feeling showed on her face, because he didn't look away. And she didn't want him to look away. She stared at him, totally mesmerized by the gleam in those lethal brown eyes of his. Beside her, she heard Tiffany say, "Oh," in a very knowing way. Taking a breath, she managed to tear her gaze away from Carter. Tiffany was looking at her and smiling wryly.
Laura didn't have a chance to talk to Carter until the party was over—so many people had questions and comments for him.
"What do you think?" he asked after they'd driven a short distance in silence.
"You might ask what I feel, instead," Laura said.
He grinned. "Consider it asked."
She let out a sigh. "I've obviously misjudged you. All your parties were benefits, fund-raisers, right?"
"Every last one. We rely to a great extent on private sources, though there were a couple of people there today who represent some fairly large foundations." He hesitated. "This was probably one of our last gatherings. We're pretty close to our target amount. The friends of the museum have been working hard."
"You couldn't have told me your parties were fund-raisers when I was mouthing off about party animals?"
His dark eyes flashed her a humorous glance. "Forgive me, Laura. It was more fun this way. The longer you thought of me as a party animal, the more guilt I figured you'd feel when you found out I wasn't."
"You wanted me to feel guilty?"
He nodded, looking solemn, though the corner of his mouth was twitching. "So you'd feel compelled to be nicer to me."
"Nicer in what way?" she asked, suspecting she knew the answer.
He laughed. Without warning, he turned the Jeep into a country lane that was little more than a dirt track, pulled over to the side and parked. Popping free his seat belt, he turned to her and smiled his wonderfully wicked smile. "I had something like this in mind," he said. Then he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her.
His mouth felt wonderful on hers, warm and supple. Startled, she responded unthinkingly, her heart fibrillating with surprise—or that other emotion whose exact nature she hadn't yet identified.
Carter's hands felt warm, holding her, touching her with astonishing tenderness. His lips grazed her mouth, her cheek, her ear. His fingers brushed lightly against her breast. For a few moments a part of her mind looked on, unwilling to believe he was doing this—or that she was allowing, even encouraging, him to do it.
Enjoy, a small but insistent voice commanded in the back of her head. She let her lips part to his and felt her whole body shudder as his tongue lightly touched the corner of her mouth.
She felt the rasp of stubble against her cheek and was abruptly conscious of the strangeness of it. Brady's beard had remained downy even when he didn't shave for a couple of days. Brady. There had been no one since Brady. No one before him. She almost panicked, thinking that of course she shouldn't be doing this, couldn't do this.
Yes, she could.
Tentatively, she moved her hands to Carter's shoulders, feeling the power of them beneath the soft knitted fabric of his shirt. Then her fingers touched the smooth warm skin of his neck. His hands were fumbling with the catch to her seat belt, which finally gave. He pulled her closer, straining his body over the emergency brake and gearshift lever. Somewhere nearby birds sang. A bee droned against the windshield.
"Laura," Carter murmured.
She put her fingers to his mouth, not wanting him to talk. Words might wake up the sensible side of her brain, reminding her of vows she had meant to keep.
Pressing her fingers to his mouth, Carter looked at her directly, his eyes darkly shadowed. He kissed her fingers, drawing each one gently into his mouth, nibbling it delicately before going on to the next, sending electrical impulses deep into her body. And then he brought his mouth down on hers once more.
It had been years since she'd been kissed in a car. If she'd thought about it, she'd have remembered such c
ramped quarters presented far too many problems for comfort. But she wasn't thinking, she was just reacting to the pressure of Carter's mouth, which was suddenly no longer gentle. He had stopped requesting. He was demanding. And she was granting, responding to the fierce longing that was urgently transmitting a message of passion to her hands, her mouth, her thighs—a message that told her here was a man who could fill all the empty spaces in her life.
Carter's breath was hot and sweet in her mouth.
"Yes?" he murmured against her lips.
But before she could reply, before she could even begin to figure out exactly what he was asking, he released her. After gently stroking her hair away from her face with the back of his fingers, he sat back, fastened his seat belt, reached for the ignition key and started the car.
She was still trying to get control of her breathing after he'd turned the Jeep around and bounced it back to the highway. "Carter?" she questioned.
A wry smile curved the corner of his mouth nearest to her.
"To be continued," he said softly.
He was having trouble with his breathing, she noted.
"That road belongs to a timber company," he explained. "I heard a rumble in the distance. I didn't think you'd appreciate a logging truck loaded with tree trunks idling alongside while the driver appraised our performance."
She laughed, but weakly. Tidying her clothing, fastening her seat belt, she began to feel a little awkward, but then Carter reached for her left hand and gripped it hard. What a lot of feeling could come through a hand, Laura thought. She could feel his warmth pulsing through every vein.
Turning his head, Carter smiled at her so impishly her heart did a somersault.
"Jessica is where?" he asked.
"Next door at the Wilmers'."
"What time did you say you'd pick her up?"
Okay. Now she knew what he'd been asking. She hesitated one moment more, then gave in to the strident demands of her own long-neglected body. "I didn't know what time, so I didn't set one. Carter, what about Priscilla?"
"I thought you said she was still resting?"
"She was when I left this afternoon, but she could pop up any minute."
He sighed. "And Sly is still firmly entrenched at my place." He glanced at her sideways. "A hotel?" He shook his head before she could even consider the matter. "Nope, something not quite… romantic about that."
She smiled at him, studying the way his hair tapered behind his ear and curved cleanly to a neat little swirl at his nape. She liked that he'd used the word "romantic."
There was a few minutes' silence while they both pondered the problem, then Laura laughed softly. "Wasn't I supposed to be standing back looking at this situation?"
She still sounded breathless.
His dark eyes flashed momentarily in her direction. "Do you need more time?"
"No."
He looked over at her, the smile still hovering over his mouth, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. "You've stopped fighting the wild and uncontrolled passion you feel for me?"
Laura took in a deep breath, then let it out. "I guess I have."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Turning into Humboldt Street, Carter braked the Jeep so sharply Laura almost throttled herself against her seat-belt shoulder strap. "Will you look at that," Carter murmured before she could protest the sudden stop.
A large black car was parked at the other end of the street, a couple of houses beyond Laura's. "Is it the same car?" Laura asked, whispering as though the mystery driver could hear her.
"How many '51 Mercs are there around?" The line of Carter's mouth was grim. Easing up on the brake, he gave the Jeep just enough gas to move it slowly forward. But his caution was wasted. When they were almost to Laura's house, whoever was driving the '51 Merc started the engine and shot off around the corner.
Immediately Carter gave chase, but the other driver had enough of a head start to make some quick turns and they lost him. Muttering, Carter drove on, straining forward to look along side streets. There was no sign of the black car.
"Dammit!" he exclaimed, thumping his closed fist on the steering wheel. "I thought I had him."
"Did you see him clearly? The car windows weren't too clean."
"All I could make out was short hair."
"Why would he be watching my house?" Laura asked.
Carter turned the Jeep around and headed back up the bill. "I've an idea whoever it is must have been watching the condo the first time I brought Sly here. He probably followed us over."
"And it's a weekend," Laura said. "Maybe he does have a job through the week."
Carter nodded. "I'd better call Sly, make sure he's okay."
"You think he might not be?" Laura was thoroughly alarmed. "You think it's a gangster's car?"
He laughed. "This isn't 1920s Chicago, Laura," he remarked. "If it was really serious, I'm sure Sly would have confessed." Carter didn't sound too convinced of that.
"So much for romance," Laura said as they reentered Humboldt Street.
"Playing cops and robbers does tend to dampen spirits," Carter agreed as he pulled the Jeep alongside the curb. He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it gently. "Though if we really worked at it…" He replaced her hand in her lap. "Another exciting installment tomorrow," he said dryly.
He was gazing beyond her. Turning her head, Laura saw Jessica clumping down the steps from the Wilmers' porch. She must have been watching from the window. Behind her, Mrs. Wilmer appeared in the doorway, saw Laura getting out of the Jeep and waved.
"Thank you," Laura called to her.
"No trouble," she called back. "Such a sweet child."
Jessica looked anything but sweet as she waited impatiently for Laura to unlock the front door. "That Michelle is so dumb," she muttered. "Guess what's she's going to do now?"
"Enter a beauty contest?" Carter guessed as they went into the foyer.
Jessica cheered up immediately. Grinning up at him, she asked, "You know Michelle, huh?"
"Haven't had the pleasure of meeting her," he said.
"Some pleasure." Jessica snorted. "She's going to have her hair permed before school starts," she told her mother. "She says nobody will hardly know her with curly hair. I told her she'd look like a floor mop."
"Michelle's a little vain," Laura murmured to Carter.
"It's her mother's fault," Jessica said flatly. "She's forever telling her how pretty she is." She looked up at her mother. "How come you hardly ever tell me I'm pretty?"
"It's not good for your character," Carter said. "Besides, you only have to look in a mirror to see that you are beautiful beyond compare."
Jessica made a face at him and pretended to gag. Then her face sobered as she looked around the foyer. "Priscilla?" she said tentatively.
All three of them waited, hardly breathing. But there was no answer. The house felt empty, Laura thought. Desolate. As though it had been abandoned for decades. She could almost hear her breath echoing.
"I guess Priscilla's not ready to show up yet," Carter said gently.
Jessica nodded, her little face pinched looking. "I guess," she agreed sadly. Her lower lip trembled.
"There must be some way to bring her back," Carter said tentatively, speaking mostly to himself. "I wonder if I couldn't work something out. With a little more research…"
Jessica looked up at him. "Can you really do something?" she asked.
"I'll try," he promised, moved by the hope and trust shining in her eyes.
There was a silence. Laura's eyes met Carter's. He grinned wryly at her, obviously frustrated, but not irritated in the least. She liked that he wasn't upset by Jessica's presence.
"Tell you what," he said, smiling at Jessica. "How about we all go get some pizza?"
"Pizza!" Laura exclaimed. "After all that food, you want pizza?"
His dark eyes showed an ironic gleam. "If one hunger can't be satisfied, it's necessary to use a substitute. Besides, I was talking so m
uch I didn't get a chance to eat."
"Mom doesn't think pizza's all that good for you," Jessica said solemnly.
"I guess this once wouldn't hurt," Laura said. She was rewarded with something that remotely resembled Jessica's usual grin.
Directing Carter to the phone in the den, she went upstairs to change into jeans. Now that the sun had gone down, her legs felt cold. Catching sight of herself in the bathroom mirror, she saw that she looked slightly flushed. From being out in the sun this afternoon or from the episode with Carter? Her hair was untidy. Carter, she decided, and caught herself smiling.
God, she was dumb. She was doing what she'd said she'd never do, letting herself get entangled with a man who was most notable for his charm. Well, she wasn't exactly entangled, she excused herself as she brushed her hair. She'd come pretty close, though. And could come close again, given the right circumstances.
She set the brush down on the counter and looked herself in the eye. "Grow up, Laura," she instructed herself. "Just make sure the circumstances don't materialize."
When she came down into the foyer she found Carter looking worried, Jessica disappointed. "Sly doesn't want to come out," Carter told her, with a wary eye on Jessica. "Same excuse."
"Agoraphobia?" She mouthed the word, and he nodded.
"Do you suppose the car went over there?" she asked, when Jessica went to get her windbreaker.
"We'll swing by and take a look," Carter decided.
The condo complex was neatly maintained, quite attractive, with woods behind it, although it was rather institutional looking. The apartments weren't very large, and they had the abandoned air of places whose owners went out to work every day. Even today, a Saturday, there were few cars in the large parking lot. Everyone could be having a riotous time downtown, Laura supposed, but there was something lonely about the rows of closed doors and windows along the empty verandas.
There was no black car in sight. Carter went upstairs to see if he could persuade Sly to change his mind about going with them. Max burst out to greet him, then galloped down the steps and raced off into the woods. A couple of minutes later, the big dog reappeared and bounded back up the steps.
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