by Diana Palmer
“Little compared to some,” Wade replied with a laugh. Riding around in Rolls-Royces was probably nothing unusual for him. He leaned back, scanning Eleanor’s ensemble. “I like your dress, darling. Silk wears well, doesn’t it?”
“Uh, yes, it does,” she returned. Odd that he could recognize silk; he probably wore silk shirts. Most rich men did. She remembered that Keegan had worn a white silk shirt that night….
“I like the new haircut, too,” he said. “You pay for dressing, Eleanor. I like the way you look.”
“I’m glad.”
“Nervous?” he asked as the driver pulled up in front of the house, which was blazing with light. Exquisitely gowned women and men in black evening wear strode elegantly along the cobblestone walkway, and Eleanor did feel uneasy.
“Just a bit,” she confessed.
“Just stick with me, kid, I’ll take care of you,” he said with a wink.
She glanced at him. Was he afraid she might slurp her soup and try to butter her bread with her spoon? She frowned. Was it a dinner party?
She asked him. “No, darling,” he replied, guiding her to the front door. “It’s a champagne buffet.”
“With different kinds of champagne?”
“Not quite,” he chuckled, pressing her hand closer. Tall, dark, good-looking, he attracted attention, even with his slightly overweight frame. And Eleanor seemed to be doing that as well. And not because she was out of place. “Champagne and hors d’oeuvres,” he whispered. “Conversation and dancing. There’s even a pool, if you fancy swimming.”
“Well, not in my gown,” she murmured demurely.
“They keep bathing suits on hand,” he said, laughing. “Sometimes, they actually fit.”
“I’ll pass, thank you,” she said with a smile.
She was introduced to her host and hostess. Mr. Blake was sixtyish, heavyset and pleasant. His wife— his third wife—was barely forty, vivacious and dripping diamonds. Their daughter was in her early twenties but already married. Her husband, an executive type, was beside her, helping to receive guests.
Fortunately no one asked if Eleanor was related to the Cape Cod Whitmans or the Palm Beach Whitmans, and she didn’t have to confess that her father was a carpenter on the Taber farm. That would have humiliated her beyond bearing. She hated being an outsider. But these people and their elegant furnishings graphically reminded her of what she would be going home to. They pointed up the difference between living and surviving. And she wondered if she hadn’t been better off not knowing that some people could afford trinkets like original oil paintings and velvet sofas and leather chairs and Oriental carpets and crystal chandeliers.
She had only one glass of champagne, standing rigid beside Wade while he discussed money matters with acquaintances. Conversation seemed to center around good stocks, municipal bonds, money markets, income taxes and new investment opportunities. The only investments Eleanor knew about were the ones she made on her car and groceries. She smiled into her champagne and nibbled on a delicate little puff pastry filled with chicken.
“Well, look who’s arrived,” murmured the older man beside Wade, glancing toward the door.
Eleanor followed his amused stare and found Keegan, in a black tuxedo, just entering the house with an elegant little black-clad brunette on his arm.
Eleanor’s heart skipped a beat just looking at him. He was devastating in evening clothes, his red hair neatly combed, his patrician features alarmingly handsome. Lucky, lucky girl who had his whole attention, she thought miserably, then chided herself for the thought. After all, she was long over him.
“Isn’t that the O’Clancy girl, the one who’s visiting them from Ireland?”
“Yes, I think it is. Lovely, isn’t she? She and her parents are hoping to work a deal with Taber, or so we hear, on a Thoroughbred of theirs,” Wade murmured with a smile. “Trust Taber to come up with an escort like that. But what’s he doing here?”
“He’s after that new colt of Blake’s—the Arabian out of Dane’s Grace by Treadway. Probably Blake decided they could discuss business here as well as at the golf course.” He chuckled.
Watching Keegan with the brunette, Eleanor couldn’t help but wonder how many women he’d gone through since the night he’d seduced her. The thought made her go hot all over.
“Why the long face?” Wade teased, whispering in her ear.
“I don’t like him,” she blurted out.
His eyebrows arched. “Why not?” he exclaimed.
“He has freckles,” she muttered, glowering at the redheaded man, who seemed to feel her cold scrutiny and turned abruptly. He caught her eyes across the room, and she stood there dying of old wounds, feeling the floor lurch under her feet. Her body ached; it took her last ounce of willpower to jerk her gaze back to Wade and calm her wildly beating heart. “Don’t you think freckles are just horribly blatant?” she asked matter-of-factly. “I can’t think why anyone would want to have them.”
He laughed helplessly. “I don’t suppose he can get rid of them, darling,” he said.
“A likely story,” she returned.
He laughed even harder and pulled her close against his side. “You bubbly little thing. I’d rather have you around than a magnum of champagne.”
She knew. Oh, how she knew. She smiled up at him just as Keegan looked her way, intercepting her smile. He seemed to grow two feet and his eyes were suddenly darker, possessive. He let his gaze rove over her from head to toe, and even at a distance the look was powerfully narcotic. She avoided it this time, in self-defense.
“Shall we dance?” Wade asked. He put their glasses aside and moved her into the ballroom, where a small orchestra was playing Strauss waltzes. She moved across the floor with him like thistledown, and he grinned.
“You dance gloriously!” he said.
“Not what you expected of a nurse?” she teased. “Actually, I took dancing for three years. Ballroom dancing was part of the course. I do love a waltz.”
“Then let’s show them how a waltz should be performed,” he murmured, and drew her around and around in the center of the floor.
Soon people were standing back to watch, because they moved as one person. He was an excellent dancer, and she followed him without a single missed step. She laughed up into his face, loving the music, feeling young again, full of life. It had been a long, bleak year, and now she was coming to life again. She closed her eyes and drifted, giving herself up to the joyous, seductive rhythm. It would have been perfect, she thought dreamily, if the arms holding her were wiry and strong, if the body against hers were lithe and lean and hard-muscled. And if the face above hers were surrounded by red hair, and if there were horrible freckles all over it….
She bit her lip. If. How long did it take a dream to die? she wondered sadly. Hers had lasted too long already.
Eleanor returned to the reality of applause all around as Wade bowed to her and led her off the dance floor. She held tight to his hand, vaguely aware of Keegan’s blue eyes watching. Always watching. Why did he stare at her so? she wondered. Was it guilt?
“That was nice,” she told Wade.
“I thought so, too. You’re magic.” He bent and brushed a kiss across her forehead. Across the room, a redheaded man clenched his fists and looked as if he could do murder.
When some of the other guests discovered that Eleanor was a nurse, she found herself much in demand to answer medical questions, none of which she felt qualified to address. She learned to excuse herself before things got too complex, and she never lacked for partners. But inevitably Keegan claimed her for a dance, and the evening turned dark.
“Having fun?” he asked dryly. “You do seem to be the center of attention.”
“I’m having a lovely time,” she replied. “Are you?” she added with a glance at his young partner, who was dancing with an older man and smiling at him radiantly.
“Yes, I am, as a matter of fact,” he replied. “She’s a sweet girl. Generous and kind and b
eautiful.”
“Not your usual choice, but we all like a change, don’t we?” she taunted.
He looked down at her possessively, his eyes charming hers as he pulled her closer, letting her feel his strength as he turned her expertly to a slow box step. “What do you know about my usual choices?” he asked. “You make a science out of trying to avoid me.”
“Do I?” she asked with a carefully blank expression. “I hadn’t noticed.”
His eyes searched her body possessively, and the strong hand holding hers contracted a little; subtly his fingers eased between hers so that his palm meshed with her own. Her heart jumped, and his other hand felt it because it had snaked around her waist and was resting just underneath her breast.
“Not quite immune yet, Eleanor?” he asked, searching her dark eyes, her parted lips.
“I’ve been dancing, haven’t you noticed?” she hedged.
“I’ve noticed you all night, and you know it. This dress is pure witchery. Where did you get it?”
She smiled. “From the Salvation Army. Isn’t it nice?”
He drew in an irritated breath and turned her quickly, so she almost lost her balance. She felt his body intimately in the turn and put a little distance between them.
“Stop fighting me,” he muttered.
“Am I?” She looked up into his eyes lazily. “I thought you were reminding me of my place. Do you think this scene is a little too grand for your carpenter’s daughter, Mr. Taber, sir?”
“Have you been drinking?” he demanded.
“Just an itty-bitty glass of champagne, boss. Not to worry,” she mocked.
“I do worry,” he said beneath his breath. He studied her face quietly as the music flowed around them. “Wade isn’t the marrying kind, and you are.”
“What difference does that make?” she asked, shrugging. “You know yourself that men only sleep with the carpenter’s daughter, they don’t marry her….”
“Eleanor, hush!” he hissed, glancing around to make sure no one had heard her.
“Why?” she asked. “Are you worried that someone might suspect you of playing around with the hired help?” she whispered conspiratorially. “God forbid!”
“Eleanor…!”
“I never knew until then that I had so much in common with the downstairs maid. Isn’t that whom the master of the house usually seduces?” she asked, wide-eyed.
“Oh, for God’s sake!” he burst out in helpless frustration. “Can’t we have a normal conversation without sex coming into it?”
“Look who’s talking!” she returned, stopping in the middle of the dance floor. “And I don’t want to have any normal conversations with you. You’re the only man I know who could probably talk a woman pregnant!”
He chuckled softly as he gazed at her, his eyes so warm they took the chill of the room off her. “We could try that, I suppose. How about coming with me on a picnic tomorrow?”
The invitation shocked her, but she kept it from showing. So he was trying to help history repeat itself, was he? Well, he wasn’t manipulating her into any tight corners again.
She smiled and shook her head. “Thanks, but Wade and I are going sailing tomorrow. He has a sailboat.”
The hand holding hers contracted. “He’s on the make, you little fool. Can’t you see it? He doesn’t give a damn for you or your feelings. He only wants to get you into bed!”
“Just like you did?” she probed.
He glared back at her. “You’re not in his class,” he began.
Her eyes widened and she smiled coldly. “Thanks a lot for reminding me. I’m not in yours, either, though, am I? Isn’t it beneath you, asking the carpenter’s daughter on picnics?”
He looked suddenly dangerous, those blue eyes glittering down at her through narrowed lids. Sensing explosions, she pulled out of his arms, regardless of the puzzled glances it brought, and went back to Wade as fast as she could walk. He was waiting, a faint smile on his dark face.
“Have a problem?” he asked amusedly, glancing past her to a glowering, blazing Keegan Taber.
“Not anymore, thanks,” she replied. She smiled up at him dazzlingly. “Would you like to dance with me?”
“Honey chile, I’d love to,” he drawled, and drew her lazily into his arms. “But do you think it’s quite safe?” he added, nodding toward Keegan.
“Mr. Taber and I just had a minor difference of opinion,” she said sweetly.
“It looks like he just got punched in the ego to me,” Wade said conversationally. “You really don’t like him, do you?”
“I like flies better than I like him,” she muttered, glaring at Keegan. “Conceited ape!”
Keegan must have read her lips, because he turned suddenly and went back to the Irish girl, appropriating her from her current partner with noticeable flair.
“Just look at him—” Eleanor glowered “—taking women away from other men, making passes at everything in skirts….”
“He’s quite popular with the ladies,” Wade observed. “I’m surprised you’re able to resist his charm so easily.”
If only he knew! “I’ve known him for years,” she said shortly. “He’s always around the house these days, talking to my father.”
“And playing chess?” Wade ventured. He cocked his head and studied her while they danced. “Does he really come to play chess, or to chance his arm with you?”
“He’d get his arm broken for him if he tried to put it around me,” she returned curtly. “And can we talk about something else? You’re ruining my appetite.”
“Oh, gladly,” he murmured, and whirled her around the floor with a smug expression that wasn’t lost on the tall, handsome redhead with the stunning brunette in his arms.
Chapter Four
Wade kept his sailboat in a slip at the marina on Cave Run Lake. It was a beautiful area, in the Daniel Boone National Forest, and there were hiking trails and a sky lift in the forest area. It was late spring, almost summer, and the woods were filled with picnickers and fishermen and hikers. Eleanor stared after them a little wistfully as Wade led the way to his slip at the sprawling marina. She liked boats but knew little about them. Her tastes leaned much more toward fishing and walking in the woods than toward water sports. It was another of the big differences between Wade’s lifestyle and her own, but perhaps she could adjust.
He looked handsome in his white slacks and navy pullover shirt, not a bad-looking man at all. She glanced ruefully at her jeans and multicolored knit shirt. She hoped she was properly dressed for sailing. She’d remembered the tennis shoes he told her to wear, but he hadn’t specified what kind of clothes to wear. She sincerely hoped he didn’t have any ideas about taking her to an exclusive restaurant dressed like this.
“We have a budding sailing fraternity here,” he was telling her, glancing over his shoulder with a smile. “In October we have the Grand Annual Regatta. You’ll have to come with me this year,” he added, taking it for granted that theirs was going to be a long-term relationship. Eleanor beamed.
“Is it all sailing?” she asked innocently.
“Mostly,” he replied. “It’s the first weekend in October, and starts out with around-the-course racing the first day, with a big dinner that night and another race the second day. There’s an open regatta for all classes.”
“Do a lot of people from Lexington race in it?” she asked.
He grinned at her. “Darling, it’s only a short drive from the city. Even shorter from where we live, outside the city. In fact, the Tabers have a slip here, and Keegan and Gene won their class in the regatta last October.”
Her face colored. She knew that Keegan loved sailing, but she hadn’t remembered that he kept his sailboat here, or that his father raced with him. It was the kind of thing that Gene Taber would do, though. Like his son, he had a reckless streak. It was one of the first things she’d admired about Keegan, that recklessness.
“Speak of the devil,” Wade muttered, staring past her just as they rea
ched his slip.
She half turned and found Keegan Taber walking casually along the marina, as if he spent every day there and was right at home.
“Hello, Wade!” he called with a friendly wave. “You have a call at the desk. I told them I’d relay it, since I was on my way to my own slip.”
Wade sighed. “I might have known. You can’t ever get away from work, not as long as there are telephones anywhere on the planet.”
“Wait until the cellular phones catch on,” Keegan said with a grin.
“God forbid! Be right back, darling. Thanks, Keegan.”
“Sure.” Keegan stuck his hands in his pockets. “I’ll watch out for Eleanor until you get back.”
Eleanor glared at Keegan as Wade disappeared into the marina office. He looked as casual as she did, in jeans and a yellow knit shirt. And in deck shoes he didn’t tower over her as much as usual. The boots he wore around the farm gave him even more height. The wind was blowing his red hair around, disrupting its slightly wavy perfection, and against his deep tan the white flash of his teeth was even more attractive. The wind was behind him, blowing the heady scent of his aftershave into her nostrils, drowning her in its masculine lure.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“The same as you. Enjoying myself.”
“Aren’t you a little far from home and your houseguest?”
His eyebrows lifted. “Which houseguest?”
“The one with the figure,” she returned, smiling coolly.
“The one with the figure is on a tour of local farms with my father and her father,” he replied.
“And you didn’t want to go, too?”
His blue eyes twinkled at her. “I work hard enough during the week that I like having Sundays off.” He chuckled.
She lowered her eyes to his throat, where fine red hairs peeked out. She remembered that his chest was covered with that softly abrasive hair, and her face colored because of the intimacy that memory involved. She wrapped her arms around herself protectively and stared toward the marina office.
“He won’t save you, you know,” he remarked. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. “That sounded like his housekeeper Mildred to me. And she’d never bother him on a date unless it was an emergency.”