But she hadn’t sent him home. Instead, she had put a drink in his hand and a nourishing meal in his stomach and then held her breath. To her relief he hadn’t pounced. The conversation had been light and easy, as it always was. He had told her the usual traveler’s tales of airport delays and lost luggage and asked her polite questions about her writing. But the trapped heat had continued to blaze in his eyes.
Afterward Amy had put some of her favorite early rock artists on the stereo and dug out a checkerboard. She nearly dropped the records and she felt clumsy setting up the playing pieces of the game. She knew her awkwardness was a result of the tension in the room. Jed had glanced at her face and at the checkerboard. He seemed to sense her near panic and fear. Then he had walked into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of brandy. When he returned to the living room, Amy saw that his sexual tension was under control. She had been relieved, and strangely touched that he cared enough not to press her.
But what came as the greatest surprise was her realization that her own sensual awareness was so high. Amy knew that the unusual rush of excitement was a direct response to Jed’s masculine need and it startled her. It was not like her to react so strongly to a man. But the situation had been defused by checkers, brandy, and the Shangri Las belting out the immortal “Leader of the Pack.”
Or perhaps Jed had controlled himself because of something he had seen in her face. Whatever the reason, the volcano burning in him did not erupt that night. The evening settled back into a sedate pattern and Jed went home around ten after thanking her politely for dinner.
Amy had stood in the doorway watching him drive off in his battered pickup. As the truck had vanished around a curve she’d closed the door, realizing his consideration of her feelings had made them much closer. She felt herself very near to the brink of a precipice she wasn’t sure she wanted to explore. What sane woman willingly descended into the heart of a volcano or attempted to ride the tiger?
The second time he had returned from an assignment Amy had seen evidence of the same sensual fire in him, but Jed had it firmly under wraps. After that first dangerous evening, he had always seemed in control of himself and placidly content with the friendly, undemanding companionship Amy offered.
But tonight, Amy knew, she and Jed had come to the edge of another potentially dangerous barrier. This was the first time Jedidiah Glaze had ever openly asked her for anything more than the most casual of favors. He had come home hurt, bruised and feverish, and had needed care and comfort.
He had tried to limit his demands to a simple request to be met at the airport, but they both knew he’d needed more help than that and she had provided it.
Amy crawled into her makeshift bed on the couch with an uneasy premonition that something fundamental had begun to alter her relationship with Jed. And she wasn’t certain she was prepared to deal with the subtly shifting situation.
The thought of waking up trapped in a web she never intended to weave was enough to keep Amy awake for the next two hours. The truth of the matter was, she was already enmeshed in the sticky strands of another web, one that was ruining her peace of mind. She wasn’t at all sure she could handle Jedidiah Glaze in addition to the trauma left over from eight months before.
Chapter 2
Jed awoke the next morning to the smell of hot coffee and what felt like the worst hangover of his life. He immediately decided to cut down on little white pills.
He opened his eyes and found himself looking at the ceiling of Amy’s bedroom. It was, unfortunately, the first time he’d seen it from this position. He took a deep breath and caught the faint, lingering trace of Amy that still clung to the sheets and pillowcase. In spite of the groggy sensation left by the drugs, his body tightened with the beginnings of a familiar hardness. He should be getting accustomed to this tight, disturbing feeling. It happened a lot around Amy.
But even as he began to contemplate the possibility of luring Amy into the bedroom, his sore ribs made their presence known in no uncertain terms. His leg began to throb, too.
“Hell.”
“Is that a general comment on your present physical condition or do you always wake up cursing the world?” Amy appeared in the doorway, a mug of coffee in her hand. Her hair was up in its usual loose knot and she was wearing an emerald green shirt and black and gray plaid trousers that were cut full at the hips and narrowed down to tiny cuffs. There was a red and brass belt threaded through the waistband loops. She looked, Jed decided, very cheerful, very alive and very much like home.
It came as a dull surprise to realize he’d never really thought of Caliph’s Bay as home until Amy had arrived three months before. For the past couple of years, since he’d moved here from Los Angeles, the small coastal village had simply been the place he came back to when an assignment was over. Something in him needed the remote, isolated quality it offered.
Lately he’d grown accustomed to the idea of seeing Amy when he returned. But each time he’d come back to find Amy waiting, the sexual tension in him grew heavier and more demanding. Occasionally it irritated him that she seemed totally oblivious of that fact.
“My leg hurts. And my ribs.”
“Don’t look at me as though it’s my fault. Want some more of your pills?”
He glazed at her. “No, I do not want any more pills. I feel as if I’m just waking up from a week-long binge because of those damn pills.”
“Have you ever actually been on a week-long binge?” she asked curiously.
There had been that time after he’d learned Andy had been killed, Jed thought.
But the numbness he’d achieved through the bottle hadn’t lasted very long, unfortunately. Nowhere near a week. Only vengeance had offered a form of relief and another kind of numbness. “No, as a matter of fact, I haven’t.”
“I’m not surprised.” She nodded as if what he’d said confirmed something she had already decided. “I can’t see you losing control like that.”
“Are you just going to tease me with that coffee or are you going to do the decent thing and give it to me?”
“My, you are surly in the mornings. Say please.”
“Please may I have that mug of coffee before I scream?” He held out his hand expectantly.
“Lucky for you I’m in a charitable mood today.” She thrust the mug into his large hand and watched as he took a long, satisfying swallow. Her flippant words didn’t quite hide the shadowed concern in her eyes. Jed decided he liked the sympathy he saw in her near-green gaze. He wouldn’t mind wallowing in it for a while.
“Thank you,” Jed murmured after the first taste of the reviving coffee. “I may survive after all.” He kept himself propped on one elbow, the mug cradled in his fist, and took another swallow.
“How do you feel?” Amy asked gently.
“As I said earlier, like hell.”
“Succinct and to the point. Want some breakfast?”
He eyed her with faint amusement. “You are feeling charitable today, aren’t you? I get to spend the night in your bed and now you’re going to feed me breakfast. This is indeed the best of all possible worlds.”
Her mouth tilted at the corners. “You’re an easily satisfied man.”
“A simple soul with simple tastes,” he agreed, and made a gallant effort to sit up on the edge of the bed. “Ah. Success.” He ignored the dull ache in his thigh. Across the room his gaze fell on an airy structure made of thin brass wire. Technically, it was a bird cage designed to look like a Baroque Italian villa. But Amy had filled the delicate, exotic bird house with a healthy looking plant instead of parakeets. Green leaves poked through the colonnade, thrust their way out of the dome and peeked through the elegantly vaulted windows and doorways.
Amy saw the direction of his gaze. “What do you think? I decided it made a great planter.”
Jed felt an instant flare of anger. “You bought it.”
“Of course I bought it. I love it.”
“I told you not to buy it. I said I’d giv
e it to you if you wanted it.”
“And I explained I couldn’t let you give me something that expensive,” Amy reminded him patiently. “It’s a work of art.”
“It’s a hobby,” he told her flatly.
“You must have spent hours on it.”
“That’s what hobbies are for. Dammit, Amy, I can’t believe you paid three hundred bucks for that thing.”
“The gallery owner gave me a slight discount because she knew I was a friend of the artist.”
“Oh, yeah? How much of a slight discount did Connie give you?” Jed challenged.
“Ten percent. If you ask me, you’re letting those cages go too cheap. That’s what I told Connie, too. I think you should be charging five hundred for the small cages like this one and seven-fifty or eight hundred for the large ones. Maybe more.
Jed heaved himself to his feet. “When I decide to get an agent, I’ll consult you. In the meantime, no more sneaking around behind my back buying my bird cages without my permission, understand?”
Her eyes widened innocently. “The coffee doesn’t seem to be doing much for your mood. I didn’t realize you have this surly side to your nature.”
“There are a lot of things you don’t know about my nature, aren’t there?” Jed asked darkly as he made his way painfully to the bathroom.
“Probably as many things as you don’t know about mine.” Amy vanished from the doorway, leaving the cool jibe hanging in the air behind her.
Jed groaned, wishing he had kept his mouth shut. He was not handling his first morning in Amy’s home with the finesse, tact and diplomacy a woman had a right to expect. After all, he reminded himself grimly as he planted both hands on the old cracked washbasin and leaned forward to study the rough, dark stubble on his face, he wasn’t her lover. He was a politely tolerated friend she could choose to kick out at any moment.
He didn’t want to be kicked out, not just yet. He wanted to maintain the fantasy of being home a little while longer.
Jed reached over and turned on the shower, aware that he was secretly pleased Amy had liked the Baroque bird cage enough to buy it. What didn’t please him was that at one point he had offered to give her the cage and she politely refused. He had recognized the refusal for what it was, a deliberate effort to keep their relationship free of various bonds, obligations and entanglements. As a gift it was too much in her eyes. When it came to presents she preferred a bunch of brightly colored flowers now and then. At the time she had refused the cage he told himself he appreciated the gesture because it had reassured him he made the right decision when he had decided to get involved with Amelia Slater. She wanted exactly what he wanted out of an affair: casual companionship and good sex. But he never quite forgot the odd sensation of rejection he had experienced the day she declined his gift.
Nor had he ever gotten the good sex. The affair had never quite gelled. It seemed to have stalled at the friendship stage.
The first time he saw her she had been intently studying the cage in Caliph’s Bay Gallery. Jed had stopped in to chat with Connie Erickson, the owner, and to deliver another cage. Connie treated him as she treated all the rather eccentric craftspeople and artists she represented, with a kind of affectionate tolerance. Jed encouraged her to do so. The image of himself as an eccentric craftsman worked well for him in Caliph’s Bay, a town overrun by the type. It allowed him to fit in nicely. But then, finding protective covers was another of his odd assortment of talents.
He’d spotted Amy crouched in front of the Baroque piece, examining each minute architectural detail with obvious delight. It was clear she was enchanted and her pleasure had intrigued him. Since he designed and built the cage, Jed figured he had the perfect opening line.
She had responded to his overture. He was pleased to find out she lived in town and was not just a passing tourist. A day spent together in Carmel visiting art galleries had quickly followed. After that there had been a couple of dinners together and one or two afternoon walks on the beach. She had shown an interest in his bird cages and he had found the fact that she wrote science fiction and fantasy fascinating. She didn’t look the type, he had told her.
“What does the type look like?” she’d countered.
“I don’t know,” he’d admitted.
“Well, if it’s any consolation, you don’t look the type to build beautiful bird cages.”
“I’m an engineer,” he’d explained. “For a while, when I was younger, I also wanted to be an architect. The cages are a hobby. I don’t make my living with them.”
“How do you make your living?”
“Engineering consulting work. My firm has several overseas projects. I travel a lot.” The lies always came easily. He had been telling them for years.
“Do you like it?”
He had shrugged, a little surprised by the question. “I don’t know. It’s what I do.”
Amy had nodded, as if understanding perfectly. She also seemed to understand that he had said all he intended to say about his job. Her tolerant acceptance of the limits he established intrigued him, although he had other lies ready if she ever asked more questions. She never had, and Jed was pleased. He shied away from the thought of telling Amy any more lies than absolutely necessary.
Lazily, feeling no need to rush the affair and determined not to jeopardize the light, undemanding aspects of the relationship, Jed had set out to seduce Amy. But he had quickly discovered that moving beyond casual friendship wasn’t going to be that easy. He soon learned there was something jumpy, almost frightened about Amy. She used the pose of friend almost like a shield to protect herself.
He was working on the problem when he had gotten the first assignment he had received since meeting her. As usual, there was very little time to say good-bye. Jed hadn’t been certain what to expect from her when he told her he was leaving the country so suddenly, but he had been reassured by her obvious lack of concern. She had even offered to drive him to the airport, but he’d refused for the same reasons she refused to take the bird cage.
He hadn’t been feeling as casual two weeks later when he returned. He had begun thinking of Amy on the plane and by the time he landed in Monterey he’d been craving her. It was not unusual to want a woman after an assignment, but it was new for him to want a particular woman as badly as he had wanted Amy. Knowing the need for sexual release was riding him far too hard, he had decided to make himself wait a couple of days before getting in touch with Amy. His resolution had lasted about twelve hours. He was on her doorstep the evening after he’d returned.
He learned his lesson that night. When he got home the second time he had forced himself firmly under control before casually stopping by to say hello. Her wariness was both frustrating and inexplicable, but he couldn’t bear the thought of frightening her or causing her pain.
For a while he had wondered if she was simply the kind of woman who worried excessively about her reputation. Caliph’s Bay was a small town, granted, but it was hardly straitlaced. It was a haven for struggling artists, writers and assorted craftspeople, not exactly the sort of community where people worried very much about what others thought. And Amy was definitely too much of an independent spirit to run her life any way but her own. After a short period of consideration, Jed scratched the theory that she was too conservative to engage in an affair.
He had gone on to Theory Number Two, which was that she might be gay. But he scrapped that notion when he remembered the deep, feminine awareness in her eyes the first time she had seen his clawing desire. All his instincts told him she was a woman who could respond to the right man. That had led to Theory Number Three: He might not be the right man. That thought had not done much for his ego.
It hadn’t been easy psyching himself down to something resembling casual friendliness when he had returned from that second assignment. The fierce need for her had begun eating at him as soon as he had boarded the plane back to the States. He’d thought about stopping off in L.A. and looking up an old acquain
tance who might be willing to drain some of his tension. But he had sensed that wouldn’t work; another woman wasn’t the answer.
He thought he’d done a pretty fair job of covering up the desire he felt that second time, but he knew she had seen the traces of sexual heat in him. Once again she treated the flames with wine and food and casual, undemanding conversation. He left the house to the strains of the Beach Boys’ “Surfin’ Safari.” Amy’s protective wall of friendship was stronger than ever. But Jed knew that his resistance to the idea of crashing through it was weakening rapidly.
Then had come this last fiasco of an assignment. Jed clenched his teeth as he stepped into the shower and concentrated on his leg. He was going to have to change the bandage when he got out. Best to keep Amy out of the room while he did it. He looked down and grimaced. Christ, that bullet had been close. A little higher and he wouldn’t have had to worry about trying to seduce Amy.
Out in the kitchen Amy heard the shower go off and waited expectantly for the sound of the bathroom door opening. She didn’t want to put the oatmeal on the stove until Jed was almost ready to eat. The phone rang just as she was measuring water into the pan. This time when she picked up the receiver, her intuition was accurate. Even if she hadn’t guessed who would be on the line the distant static was a good clue. Private telephone service had come to Orleana Island’s little corner of the Pacific about fifteen years before, but it hadn’t yet reached the level of quality one expected in the States.
“Hello, Dad. Are you and Mom finished packing yet?”
“Your mother has that end of things under control, as usual.” Douglas Slater’s deep, hearty voice was not dimmed one bit by the telephone line. His was a voice that had dominated the boardroom and presidential suite of Slater Aero, Inc. for years. It held the essence of a still vigorous man who was facing his sixties with the same determination that he’d used to build and hold together his successful aerospace manufacturing firm.
On the Edge Page 3