A red flag went up. Don't dive in with both feet. "Uh, I'm not sure exactly what you're asking."
Osgood appraised her steadily. "There's happiness and there's pleasure. We can't always find happiness, but we can always surround ourselves with things or people who please us."
His "we's" made her nervous. She didn't want to be lumped on his side of the fence. She lifted her hand to motion to the oriental carpet, Warhol painting, and Ming vase on display. "You have a lot of beautiful things to please you. I hope you have happiness too."
He waved his hand, dismissing the notion. "Happiness is overrated. It's elusive. We could chase after it and never catch it. I believe in tangibles. What I can see, taste, smell, hear, feel."
Her voice took on a stern edge. "Money makes that possible. Less fortunate folk strive for happiness."
"And you?" he slid in easily.
"Sometimes I'm happier than others. Pleasure's a bonus that usually carries a price tag--monetary or emotional."
He rubbed his fingers across his chin pensively. "That's an interesting concept but it depends on the person. No emotional investment, no emotional price tag."
Beth slid to the edge of her chair. "Mr. Osgood, can we stop speaking in code? I'm not sure what we're discussing."
"We're discussing reality. If you get this project, your future will take a different course. More income, more publicity, more rich clients."
"That's why I want to design the resort," she said cautiously.
"I can give it to you."
He meant now, tonight. She attempted to remain composed. "At what price?"
His eyes became probing, his tone conciliatory. "I'd rather think of it as a trade. I give you the job of your dreams, you give me your...presence."
Stay cool, Beth. Stay calm. Don't blow up. She felt her cheeks reddening. "Mr. Osgood, please explain 'presence' so I don't entertain the wrong ideas."
"Presence means you're by my side when I need you, whether it's at a dinner or in my bed."
The gall of the man! How could he discuss something like this as if it were a business deal? Could he be serious? She was so flabbergasted, she was speechless.
"I've taken you by surprise."
"Do you know what you're suggesting?" Her voice rose and she knew she had to get a grip on herself, but it was more important to tell him how she felt. "Do you realize I'd be selling out everything I believe in? Yes, I want this project. But I want to earn it because my ideas are good, my presentation is the best. I won't lose my self respect to climb the career ladder."
He was unruffled, unperturbed, unemotional. "I didn't realize you were a feminist."
"Whether I'm a feminist or not isn't the issue. To put it plainly, I won't sell myself to get ahead. And if that means I'm out of the running--"
He held up his hand. "Now, now. Don't get excited. I'm not a stupid man. An egomaniac maybe, but never stupid. You're a courageous young woman who knows her own mind. You know what's good for you. I didn't get to be a millionaire by becoming bitter or vengeful every time I didn't succeed."
She lifted her chin and stared at him squarely. "So if I turn you down, I'm still in the running?"
"If? Is there still a possibility you'll accept?"
She shook her head vehemently. "No, sir. I merely want to know where I stand."
"You stand high in my regard. Your decision won't change your chances to win my contract."
Did he know about John? Is that why he'd put forth the proposition? "I have to ask you, Mr. Osgood. Have you heard something about me, have I said anything to make you think I'd consider your...proposal?"
"No. I like what I've seen of you. Surely you know you can catch a man's eye without trying."
"I...uh, I've never thought about it."
He grinned, lifted his glass for a sip of wine, and set it down again. "That's what makes you so tempting. You don't try." He must have sensed her discomfiture because he said, "I can see I'm embarrassing you." He leaned forward. "Beth, you're a delight. Especially when you eat chili."
If she could have burrowed under the parquet floor to hide, she would have. "You saw that."
"Um. I also saw Winchester's ministrations. Is he the reason you're turning me down?"
Osgood might be eccentric but he was perceptive too. "No. I mean, we've become friends but..."
His eyes twinkled knowingly. "I see."
She picked up her wine and took a healthy swallow, not knowing what to expect next.
Osgood stood and offered her his hand. "The chef's prepared a six course dinner. Let's pleasure ourselves."
She accepted his gallant gesture and rose to her feet. "You still want me to stay?"
"Of course. One night in your company is better than none. Unless you're feeling too uncomfortable."
"Is the subject closed? You won't try to change my mind?"
"If you mean will I make unwanted advances, the answer is no. We'll enjoy dinner as business associates."
For some unknown reason, she believed him. "Then I'll stay."
****
Nash brought the Corvette to a stop in front of Beth's apartment. His hair was matted from being baked in a hard hat most of the afternoon. His slacks carried dust, his shirt was sweated, but he wanted to see Beth now, before the silence stretched between them too long. That had happened to him and Monica. They'd been too afraid, or too sorrow-filled, or too unyielding to fill the vacuum between them with their thoughts and feelings.
He hadn't resolved his disappointment and surprise at Beth's background. A phone call to Jack had been unsatisfactory. His friend didn't know any more than what the clippings stated. What bothered Nash was that nowhere in the newspaper articles were there any statements, apologies or denials from Beth or her family.
Was that because she couldn't deny it? Had she been afraid to defend herself to the press? From what he knew of Beth, it didn't make sense. She spoke her mind. Why not about this?
The most logical thing to do was ask her about it. Get the facts. Get the situation out in the open.
Nash parked behind Beth's car. He went to the door, thinking he really should go home and change.
As he knocked, an elderly lady leading a Pomeranian on a leash down the sidewalk called to him. "Beth's not home."
He hopped off the porch and approached her. "You're sure?"
"Absolutely. I live next door." She gave him a bright smile. "I've seen your car here before."
He wondered what else she'd seen. He bet she watched the comings and goings of her neighbors with alacrity. "Beth's car's here so she must have gone jogging."
"Heavens no! She created quite a stir, she did. Everybody was peeking out their windows, standing on their porches."
What had Beth done? Walked nude down the street? "I'm afraid I don't understand."
"This huge gray car--limousines, I think they call them, drove right down this street and stopped in front of Beth's house. This man, all dressed in black with a hat and everything, climbed out and went up to her door. Beth must've been ready, cause she came right out. Dressed real nice, she was."
Nash's stomach tightened and he clenched his hands at his sides. Osgood. She was with Osgood! Apparently she'd made her decision. Why have sex with Nash when there were bigger fish to fry? How dumb could he be? He'd believed the innocent act. Even after Reynolds' report, he'd hoped there was some explanation, some excuse. God, he felt like a first class fool.
The dog at the woman's feet yapped. "Hush, Ginger. I'm talking to this nice young man." She turned back to Nash. "I don't suppose you know who sent the limousine, do you?"
Usually Nash had time for little old ladies. Usually a conversation with anyone wasn't a problem, but his throat felt like it was closing, his heart was racing, his head was pounding. He wanted to strangle Osgood, Beth...somebody.
Even so he had the urge to protect Beth. "I have no idea who it belongs to."
"Are you all right? You're very pale."
Pale? He felt like de
ath inside, like all of his dreams had been destroyed. "No I'm not all right. Must be a flu bug. Thank you for the information." He strode to his car.
"Should I tell Beth you were here?" she called after him.
"No. Believe me, I'll tell her myself."
Nash switched on the ignition and gunned the motor, wanting nothing more than to find a stretch of straight road and accelerate to ninety. His tires screeched as he pulled away from the curb.
****
Letting herself into her apartment, Beth leaned against the door and sighed. What a night! She'd never met anyone like Osgood, never eaten from Limoges china, never used sterling flatware before. She had to admit dinner was pleasant, his manners impeccable. But...when it came time to choose his architect, would he remember her rejection? Would he count it against her? She didn't need two strikes before she started. What she did need was a pep talk. Midnight or not, she needed to talk to her parents.
She settled on the window seat in the bay window and checked her answering machine. No word from Nash. Hopefully tomorrow. She dialed the long distance number. Her mother answered.
"Mom, it's me."
"Hi, honey. Wait till I yell for your dad so he can get on the extension. He came in about fifteen minutes ago."
There was shuffling, the sound of another receiver being lifted. "Hi, Katie. How are you?"
"Fine, Pops."
"That's why you're callin' this time of the night?"
"I missed you. I wanted to call when I knew you'd both be home."
"We miss you too," her mother said. "It's not the same with you so far away."
Every time Beth called or visited her parents they tried to convince her to move back home. "Don't start, Mom. I have a good life here." And now that she'd met Nash there was even more reason to appreciate Lancaster.
"I won't start anything. But we want to see you more often. Your dad and I were talking about driving up week after next. Will that work or are you too busy?"
"She's never too busy for us," her dad cut in.
"You're welcome anytime. With this much notice, I might even be able to get the spare room cleaned up enough that you won't have to trip over boxes to get to the bed."
"Katherine Elizabeth. You still haven't unpacked?" her mother scolded.
"Mom, it's stuff I don't use and I don't have anyplace--"
"Marie, leave her alone. A few stray boxes never hurt anyone."
"Just because you're the same way doesn't make it right," her mother claimed. Beth heard her exaggerated sigh. "But I guess I can't change either one of you at this late date."
Clifford Terrell ignored his wife. "Katie, darlin', don't worry about cleanin' up. We'll stay at one of those nice motels along Route 30."
"Pops--"
"Don't argue with me. You make reservations at a nice one for next Wednesday night. And think about what you want to do. We don't have to sit around yappin' all night. Maybe we can play miniature golf."
"And don't worry about cooking," her mother agreed. We'll take you out for a nice dinner."
"Would you mind if I asked someone to come with us?" She was met by silence. "If you'd rather not..."
"Of course you can invite someone," her father said. "But we would like some time just with you."
"I'll take off from work early. We'll have time. Is there a special reason you're coming?"
"No," he said quickly. Too quickly. "We just want to see you face to face. This person you want us to meet. It's a man?"
"Yes, Pops."
"Good. Glad to hear it."
After a brief conversation about what was happening in Leesburg, Beth said good night. As she replaced the receiver on its hook, she wondered what was behind her parents' visit. Sure, they missed her. But something was up. She could smell it. She'd just have to wait to discover what.
The next morning a florist delivered one red rose to Beth at her office. At first she thought it might be from Nash, but instead she found a note from Osgood saying he hoped he hadn't offended her, that he'd enjoyed her company and he would be looking forward to seeing her presentation on the fifteenth. She hoped that was true and he wasn't simply being polite.
By lunchtime she'd decided the only route to take was to practice her presentation until it was perfect, making her language as descriptive and visually persuasive as possible. While she was jotting down opening ideas, her secretary informed her Nash was on the line.
Her heart beat triple time. "I'm glad you called."
"Do you have something to tell me?" His voice was impersonal, not warm like it usually was. Maybe he was calling from a site.
"I'd like to talk to you," she answered tentatively.
"And I want to talk to you. Will you be home tonight?"
"I'll make sure I am."
"I'll be there at seven thirty."
Beth hung up. Was Nash still angry about the other night?
She gave up trying to work midafternoon. Shopping eased the nervous tension and a hot fudge sundae comforted her for the time it took her to eat it. Buying ranunculus and daffodil bulbs to plant in September, perusing the green house, helped pass another hour. By seven-thirty, dressed in a crisp yellow cotton sundress, her hands were clammy.
As soon as she heard Nash's car, she went to the door and opened it. His expression was serious when he stepped inside, but he looked good enough to eat. His fawn linen slacks and off-white oxford shirt emphasized the darkness of his hair, the richness of his tan.
"Would you like something to drink?"
"No."
She sat on the sofa and waited for him to sit beside her. But he remained standing. "Did you want to go somewhere, do something?"
"Cut the innocent act, Beth. I know where you were last night."
"How did you--?"
His face went stiff, his eyes containing enough ice to freeze the whole state. "Your neighbor saw the limo. How long did you intend to keep it from me? Or weren't you going to tell me at all? We'd just go our separate ways. You with Osgood--"
"Hold on. I don't know what you're insinuating, but I don't like your tone. What gives you the right to tell me what I can and can't do?"
"Far be it from me to tell you what to do." His stance was purely masculine, his legs spread apart, his shoulders pushed back and straight, his jaw jutting forward with outrage. "You seem to have everything planned to the T. A concert with me. A night with Osgood. Tell me something. Was the passion between us real or did I imagine it?"
"It was real."
The wall he'd built seemed impenetrable and as hard as his voice. "But it got in the way, didn't it? You didn't plan it. You couldn't manipulate it. Obviously your conscience wouldn't let you enjoy it. All that business about not being ready was a stop gap until you could get what you really wanted. I never dreamed you were that type of woman. I believed you."
She stood. "What kind of woman?"
His voice was low and rumbling with restrained anger. "The kind who sells herself to get what she wants."
The words ricocheted around her heart, stinging it. Her hand came back and would have connected with his cheek, but he stopped her with a grip that hurt.
"Don't get righteous with me, Beth. I know--"
She wrenched her arm away. "You know nothing. Nothing at all." The cross-examination in his eyes disappointed her. "Somehow you've added two and two to get five! You've taken circumstantial evidence and convicted me. Have you so little faith?"
"I have faith in people I know I can trust."
"Because I wouldn't make love with you, you don't trust me? What kind of gauge is that?"
"Naked bodies breed honesty. You couldn't give me that."
His censorious tone irked her. She was sick of being judged. His mind was made up. Nothing she could say would sway him--except maybe the bare facts. "I had dinner with Osgood last night."
His laugh held no humor. "Right. I didn't just fall off the turnip truck so don't try to give me a snow job. You can tell me the truth now."
> "I am telling you the truth, but you don't want to hear it."
"I know how Osgood operates. Wine, candlelight, hot tub. Did he offer you the sun, moon, and the stars with the contract? Because if he did, don't believe him. He's a professed bachelor. He won't give any woman a chance to get her hands on his money."
That did it! "You have no right to judge anyone! You don't know him as well as you think you do. And if you believe what you're spouting, you don't know me."
"And you do know him? After one night? Or have there been others without the limousine that were more secretive?"
He was more stubborn than her father. Maybe a little reality therapy would shake him up. "You want the truth, Nash? I'll tell you the truth. My feelings for you scared me and I wasn't sure what I wanted to do. I have no such confusion about Osgood. I don't want him with or without his contract. Yes, he invited me to dinner last night. And yes, I didn't know what to expect. So I called you. I called to ask if he'd invited you to dinner some other time. If it was another of his trademarks. I called to ask your advice."
"You didn't. My secretary didn't leave a message."
"I told her not to bother because I'd decided to try your other line. I left a message. I thought you got it when you called today."
He looked uncertain for the first time since he walked in. "Are you telling me nothing happened?"
"Something happened, all right. He propositioned me."
"I knew it."
"Oh, did you? Well, apparently you didn't know how I'd react. I told him I wanted his contract. On merit. Nothing else."
"And he accepted that?"
"Yes. Unlike you, he believed what I said. The fact that you didn't hurts, Nash. More than I can ever tell you." Tears came to her eyes and she blinked fast. She wouldn't cry in front of him. She wouldn't give him the power to hurt her that much. "I've been hurt before. I've been misused before. I don't need this again."
"Beth--"
"I don't want to talk about it. You didn't trust me. No relationship can grow without trust. You can't believe what you did about me and have feelings for me. So get out of my life and leave me alone."
He must have heard the hopelessness in her voice and the finality. He left without a word.
When the Corvette's engine was a sigh on the breeze, Beth curled up on the sofa and cried.
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