by Leona Karr
She was just about to get in the car when she sensed movement behind her. She swung around, startled until she saw who it was.
“Andrew,” she gasped, leaning back against the Porsche in relief.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he apologized quickly. “I’ve been waiting, hoping to catch a chance to talk with you.”
She was surprised at the sudden quiver of joy that raced through her just seeing him again. Her breath was short and it was only with great effort that she managed to feign an air of indifference. “What’s on your mind?”
“I think we need to talk. Could we take a short walk through the grounds before you head back to the city?”
“I’m in no hurry,” she admitted. His manner was slightly stiff, and certainly lacking the easy companionship they had once enjoyed. Her initial impression that he was there to invite her to come back to his cottage instantly faded.
Even though Andrew didn’t touch her, he was conscious of her nearness as they left the parking lot and followed a stone path circling through the landscaped grounds. He had rehearsed a dozen times in his mind what he wanted to say to her, but his mind was as muddled as ever. Should he say something about seeing her yesterday? Would she think he was spying on her if he admitted he saw her getting into a cab with Curtis?
As he glanced at her, he could see a tightness in her mouth, and faint worry lines fanning away from her eyes. More than anything, he wanted to draw her into his arms and kiss away the traces of tears on her cheeks. Her session with Dr. Duboise must have been a rough one.
He gave her a self-conscious smile, and asked, “How are you doing?”
“Okay,” she lied. Maybe if she didn’t unload on him, he wouldn’t cut her off the way he had the last time they were together. More than anything, she wanted to savor Andrew’s company if only for a little while. He was the only one who made her feel that she could be herself even if she wasn’t sure just who that was.
“How about you?” she asked politely. “Is your work going well?”
He started to make some superficial response but something stopped him. The truth was that he hadn’t been able to put in a decent hour’s work since she’d refused his telephone call. He’d spent hours running on the beach, trying to wear himself out so he wouldn’t think about her being with Curtis Mandel and all her fancy friends.
When they reached the familiar bench where they had sat and talked before, he eased her down beside him. For a long moment, they just sat there in silence, keeping a few inches between them as if it were crucial to maintain some kind of safety zone.
Trish wondered if he could hear the wild beating of her heart, or sense the desire to turn and bury her face in the inviting strength of his shoulder.
“Trish, I need to get something off my chest,” he finally said, clearing a hoarseness in his voice. “I know that you don’t need me complicating your life, but I want to explain a few things to you.”
“You don’t have to explain anything,” she said with a lift of her chin. “What happens to me now isn’t your responsibility.”
“It’s not that. It’s about the other night.”
“I don’t blame you a bit for wanting to put some distance between us,” she told him as evenly as she could.
“That isn’t true.” His eyes searched her face. “You think I intended to end the evening that way?”
“The fast peddling you did after our dinner date was clear enough. I got the message, loud and clear.”
“I don’t believe this.” His expression was one of total dismay. “Is that why you refused my call? You thought I was giving you the brush-off?”
“Yes. It was quite obvious.”
Relieved laughter came from deep within his chest. “That’s rich.”
“What’s so amusing?”
“My sweet Trish, I thought you were doing the same to me by refusing to speak with me when I called. It seems we both jumped to the wrong conclusions.”
“But I don’t understand. Why did you behave the way you did?”
“Let me explain.” He told her about the car that had tailed her, and the reason he had hurried her away from his place so he could follow it. When he told her that Darlene had hired a private detective to follow her, Trish’s mouth literally dropped open.
“I can’t believe it,” she gasped.
“It’s true.” He took her hand. “I’m sorry you have to put up with this kind of harassment. She’s obviously venting her frustrations on you. The P.I. said he was supposed to report any contact you had with her missing husband. Apparently she’s convinced he’s hiding out somewhere, and you know where he is.”
Trish said wearily, “You’ll never guess what she’s got planned now. She’s throwing a big bash at some fancy club for me as a welcome-home celebration. What she hopes to prove is beyond me. I know she doesn’t believe I have amnesia—but neither do the police.”
“What?”
Trish told him about Lieutenant O’Donnel’s visit to her office, and his obvious interest in her relationship with Perry. “Dr. Duboise told me the authorities have even made inquiries at Havengate about me.” Her lips quivered. “I guess Darlene has convinced the police that my disappearance is tied up with her husband’s, and doesn’t believe for one minute that I’ve lost my memory.”
“Are you going to attend her party?” Andrew asked. “I wouldn’t trust her for a minute. No telling what she has planned.”
Trish nodded. “I was thinking the same thing. Obviously, she wants to prove that my amnesia is false, but whatever scheme she has concocted will backfire, and prove to everyone that I’m telling the truth.”
“Maybe,” he said, without much conviction. “But are you up to that kind of trial by fire?”
“I’m not sure,” Trish admitted. Just the thought of spending an evening in that kind of war zone would demand all the determination and strength she could muster. “I’m not sure I can do it.”
“If that’s what you decide you want to do, you’ll see it through. I have no doubts that you can put Darlene in her place with great finesse.”
“Do you really think so?”
“I do.” He touched a strand of hair dangling over her cheek, and gently eased it back behind her ear. His eyes traced the beautiful line of chin and neck. A perfect cameo, he thought. This image of her beautiful face was one he wanted to savor, and draw upon in the lonely times ahead of him.
“I’ll need an escort, of course,” she said boldly. When he didn’t answer, she asked, “Did you hear me? I’ll need someone to go with me.”
He pulled back from the reverie of capturing her beauty deep in his mind. “What?”
“I said I’ll need an escort for the party.”
“I’m sure you won’t have to look far for one,” he responded as casually as he could. Just thinking about her and Curtis paired up at the affair brought a tightening in his stomach.
“No, I suppose not,” she agreed saucily. “In fact, I could find one as close as this. Right under my nose.” She put her face a tantalizingly inch away from his. “Couldn’t I?”
Andrew didn’t bother answering, but claimed her mouth in a kiss that momentarily put an end to the discussion. The only reality of the moment was the sensation of exploding warmth and desire that shot through him as he folded her into his arms. It didn’t matter that they were visible to anyone strolling through the grounds. It didn’t matter that his pain would be heightened by giving in to an impossible longing. Nothing mattered except that for the moment she was his to kiss and caress. As they clung to each other, his lips trailed light kisses from her mouth, along her cheek, and to the warm crevice of her neck.
Trish let the urgency of his passionate kisses sweep her into a mindless state. From deep within, she drew on the assurance that this explosive passion was true and right for her. She almost felt a sense of resentment and betrayal when he abruptly withdrew from their embrace, and firmly set her away from him.
“No,” he said in a hoarse voice. “This isn’t fair.”
She fought for breath and composure. His sudden withdrawal was like that of a Ferris wheel dropping out from under her. She didn’t even know what he was talking about.
“Fair?” she repeated, frowning in confusion. “What isn’t fair?”
“Taking advantage of you like this.” His gaze caressed her face. “God knows, I want to forget about everything but making love to you. You have no idea how just thinking about you destroys all my thoughts of being the good guy. It’s damn hard to maintain my integrity in this situation.”
“I don’t understand. We’re both adults. Unmarried…?” She made the word a question. “You aren’t married, are you?”
“No. Not now, not ever.”
“Then…?”
He pulled her to her feet. “Let’s walk. I can think better when you’re not sabotaging my every thought and when your nearness isn’t sparking a fire of lustful thoughts.”
Trish was confused. He didn’t even take her hand as they began walking back toward the parking lot. She couldn’t understand why he was talking about integrity when her passion was raging as fiercely as his.
She forced herself to remain as calm as her emotional equilibrium would allow. “Just how are you taking advantage of me?” she asked in a conversational tone. “As far as I know I’m in a position to make my own decisions.”
“Are you?” he asked quietly.
The simple question vibrated between them with the force of a cannonball. In those two words he had landed a bull’s-eye. He was questioning her ability to make decisions in a vacuum devoid of past experiences and knowledge. He had every right to be cautious about entering a relationship with someone who couldn’t even seem to relate to her real name.
Even though she was convinced that what she felt for Andrew would withstand any challenges of her unknown past, she realized it wasn’t fair to expect him to feel the same way.
She forced a smile. “You’re right, of course. Even though I’m perfectly willing for you to take advantage of me in any way you choose, I accept your reluctance to go any farther with an intimacy between us. I shouldn’t involve you in the tangled mesh of my past and present.”
He stopped walking.
“Wait a minute.” He put his hands firmly on her shoulders, and looked directly into her eyes. “It’s not me that we’re talking about, but you.”
“What about me?”
“How could anyone in your position really know what their true feelings are? I’d willingly carry you off to my lair, the world be damned, but you’re in a vulnerable place now. Taking advantage of your state of mind, and emotional upheaval is something I can’t do. Do you understand?”
She wanted to say no, but his sincerity and integrity wouldn’t let her. In her heart she knew that the time wasn’t right for any kind of commitment from either one of them.
“I do understand,” she admitted. “But I don’t like it.” She suspected that most of the reluctance was on his side and couldn’t help but say so.
“God knows, I’d be willing to do anything for you.”
“Like escorting me to Darlene’s party?”
He saw the twinkle in her eye, and knew he’d been deftly backed into a corner. “What about Curtis?”
“What about him?”
“It would be my guess that he expects to take you,” he said casually as they reached her car.
“Maybe,” she said, knowing fully well that Andrew was right. “But I’m taking you.” She didn’t look forward to informing Curtis or Janelle who her escort was going to be, but having Andrew at her side was going to be a lifesaver. She deliberately put her arms around his neck, and gave him a kiss that promised much more than a friendly goodbye.
He suspected that if he asked her to come with him to the cottage, she would have readily accepted. Her eyes were hazy as he withdrew her arms and opened the car door for her. If she didn’t leave now, his will-power was going to reach a dangerous low.
“I’ll see you Saturday night,” she said as she slid into the front seat. “Oh, by the way, the affair is formal.”
“My jogging sweats won’t do?”
She laughed, knowing full well that he’d wear a tux with the same natural masculine grace he displayed in any casual attire. She was almost looking forward to the evening, and tried to ignore a quiver of intuition warning her that Darlene would do her darnedest to embarrass her any way she could.
Chapter Twelve
Trish looked carefully through the array of expensive gowns hanging in the walk-in closet and found nothing that appealed to her. Most of the evening dresses were tight, low cut and loaded with sequins or beads. At the edge of her mind was the urge to find something that would please Andrew. Because he was so laid back about his own attire she knew his tastes didn’t run to the flamboyant and conspicuous. In any case, she certainly didn’t want to set herself up to be the center of attention any more than was necessary.
Janelle listened to Trish complaining that she couldn’t find anything to wear, and laughingly replied, “Well, then I guess a shopping trip is in order.”
Trish hesitated, afraid that the outing would prove to be another frustrating and uncomfortable experience, but she didn’t see any way around it. She wanted her first time out in public with Andrew to go as well as possible under the bizarre circumstances.
When she and Janelle entered The House of Cherie on Fifth Avenue, there could no doubt about the fact that Patricia Radcliffe was a favorite customer. Madame Cherie greeted her with so much ceremony that Trish was embarrassed. She was grateful that Janelle managed to staunch the woman’s exuberance enough to maneuver them into a private fitting room. A younger, less demonstrative saleslady, Ms. Adele, was waiting to serve them, but it took more than an hour before the message finally got through to Ms. Adele that Trish wasn’t interested in designer names or original gowns.
Obviously disappointed, the saleslady finally listened to Trish and began bringing out some less dramatic styles.
“I like this one,” Trish said finally with a sigh of relief as she selected a dusty-rose silk gown fashioned with a simple bodice that modestly showed off her neck and shoulders. A draped skirt flowed with her as she walked, and her dark hair glistened beautifully against the soft pastel fabric.
Janelle seemed surprised at her choice but nodded approvingly as Trish modeled it for her.
“Do you think Andrew will like it?” Trish asked impulsively.
Janelle’s eyes rounded. “Andrew?”
“Yes.” Trish smiled happily. “He’s agreed to be my escort.”
“But…what about Curtis? I mean, everyone will expect you to go with him. You two are a—a couple,” she stammered.
“I thought you said that I broke off the engagement a month ago.”
“Yes, but after all that’s happened, Trish, I know he’s willing to start anew and dismiss all the unpleasantness that you can’t even remember.”
“Maybe I do remember—”
“What?” Janelle gasped. “Is your memory coming back?”
Trish shook her head. “Not really, but I have gut feelings about things and I know that whatever was between me and Curtis is over.”
“And what about Andrew Davis?”
“I don’t know,” Trish said thoughtfully. “We’ll have to see how things go.”
ANDREW WAS THINKING along the same lines as he left the rental store with a tuxedo box tucked under his arm. He had no idea what he’d let himself in for. The whole evening could be a fiasco. He must be some kind of lovesick fool to even agree to go. The affair was going to be held at a fancy club on Long Island, and it was a sure bet that he would feel about as comfortable as a clown at a royal wedding. Only the thought of spending the evening at Trish’s side made the whole thing palatable. He was confident he could handle himself in the elite company, but some inner voice mocked him with possible complications over which he’d have no control. What if Curtis
or another of her fancy friends whisked her away the moment they arrived? A beautiful woman like Trish must have a whole chorus of men after her. And what if she became so involved with other socialites that she forgot even he existed? The more Andrew thought about the whole affair, the deeper went the conviction that it had been pure stupidity that had made him agree to be Trish’s escort.
WHEN THE NIGHT OF THE party came around, he was still filled with reservations as he arrived at her apartment, a floral box in his hand, and a forced smile on his lips. As he waited for someone to answer the door, he was as nervous as an adolescent calling on his prom date.
“Oh, come in, Mr. Davis,” Sasha greeted him with a look that traveled from his blond head, down the length of his tux to his polished black shoes. Then she gave him an approving wink, and ushered him into the living room. “I’ll tell Miss Patricia you’re here.”
The housekeeper knocked on Trish’s bedroom door, and told her that Andrew had arrived.
Trish was as nervous as Andrew when she entered the living room, and both of them stood there looking at each other. She had expected him to look handsome in evening clothes, which he certainly did. And she’d been prepared for her heart to quicken in his presence, which it also did. What she wasn’t prepared for was the rush of hot passion that was more wanton than ladylike. She flushed as sexual desire sent a hot hunger through her. She would have much rather invited him into her bedroom than do anything else at the moment.
Andrew saw the flush rise in her face and wondered what was wrong. Was she embarrassed by the way he looked? Had he committed some kind of social faux pas without even knowing it?
“Is something wrong?” he asked. “You did say it was formal, didn’t you?”
“Yes, the tuxedo is perfect,” she hastened to assure him, trying to restrain the urge to put her hands on him.
“Well, that’s a relief. I thought for a minute that I’d goofed.”