Her lissome body, too much of it exposed in a skimpy red dress, relaxed visibly and she laughed. “I do remember. You said to be careful where I dumped it or it’d rot the concrete. Bruce, I was scared to death that day, and you made it all right. You were always so good to me. I’ve never forgotten you holding my hand. And you know what?” She leaned toward him, and his gaze flickered to the tops of her high breasts, then quickly back to her eyes.
Looking after her was going to be a full-time job. “What, Donna?” he said, more soberly than he’d intended.
“I still have the doll you bought me that day. She’s so beautiful.”
He felt oddly wistful. Time passed too quickly, and innocence with it. Donna was still an unspoiled young woman, but the girl he’d known was gone. “Did you keep what the lady in the store gave you, too?”
“The tiny ivory tiger with a thousand tigers inside—all too small to see, of course. Wait.” She opened a small, beaded black purse and took out a worn leather pouch with a drawstring. “Look in here.”
Inside, wrapped tightly in tissue, lay the intricately carved little tiger. “The old lady said you were very beautiful, Donna,” Bruce murmured. “And that the tiger was very lucky. She wanted it to be lucky for a lovely child. Back then you were just a shadow of what you’ve become. And I hope you’ll always be very, very lucky, Chickie. But you’ve got a lot to learn about life.”
He recoiled from the veiled expression that slipped over her features. Caution was essential. He mustn’t risk doing or saying anything that might make her close him out.
“I know a lot more than you think, Bruce.” She turned sideways again and crossed her legs. Her high, slender-heeled black shoes, held on by narrow straps crisscrossing her feet, caught and held his attention. One toe swung pointing downward, flexing muscles in her calf, and her thigh was visible through the thin silky fabric of her dress.
Some baby-sitter he was proving to be. He focused on a point just beyond her perfect chin. “Donna, I’m not trying to come on as the heavy. It’s only that I’ve been around a long time, and I want to look out for you while you’re here. There are a lot of wolves in this town—”
She laughed. “There are a lot in any town. I appreciate you caring about me, but I can handle myself.”
“Well, I get the feeling you…you think this is some sort of adventure. I don’t want you to…oh hell…I’m no good at this. But you know people do things too quickly sometimes…get involved too fast…” He stopped, unsure how to go on. The drinks they’d ordered arrived, and he twisted the stem of his martini glass around and around.
“And then the getting uninvolved can be pretty painful, can’t it?” Donna asked softly.
He glanced up at her sharply. She knew, somehow, that he was thinking about his own marriage.
“Damned painful,” he said after a moment. “It all started out like a dream. Everything seemed perfect. Then the cracks began to appear. Things began to fall apart. And I couldn’t stop it.” Why was he telling her this?
“I’m sorry.” And he could see she was. In fact, he was seeing again the total absorption she’d shown toward him at lunch the previous week. She reached across and placed her hand on his. She looked close to tears. He swallowed. She pressed his hand, then withdrew hers. “Do you ever hear from her?” she asked.
Donna liked him a lot, that was all. To her he was still the good friend who’d helped her out when she was a kid. “No,” he said. “Not directly, that is. One of her cousins plays tennis at my club. I see him from time to time. I try to keep track. Anne’s such a featherbrain, and it isn’t easy to totally stop caring about someone who’s been that close. I like to be sure she’s okay.”
Donna seemed to steel herself. “Would you…do you think you and she will ever…” She hesitated, flushing slightly.
He helped her out. “Patch it up? No. It was wrong from the start. The unworkable marriage. And neither of us had sense enough to know it.” He paused, and silence settled between them. She looked so sad. He shouldn’t have dragged in his personal problems—his dead history now. Donna expected a good time, a gala evening. He grinned, and leaned forward. “That’s not to say I won’t try again. It hasn’t soured me on the marriage institution as such.” He was rewarded by a perfectly brilliant smile. He started to say something else, but the maître d’, gliding to his side and bending low, cut him off.
“Sir. You’re Mr. Bruce Fenton?” He was holding a cordless telephone.
“Yes.” Bruce looked up, grateful for the interruption. The conversation was getting too sticky.
“You have a telephone call. Do you wish to take it here, or in the men’s lounge?”
“Here is okay. Thanks.” Bruce reached for the phone.
Donna watched Bruce as he listened, watched his brows lift slightly and his mouth curve into a faint grin. He didn’t look at her, but down at the tablecloth.
“Well, yes,” he said. “No, that’s fine. And I’m glad you called here. I don’t mind my date being interrupted for this. Good work, Joey. I owe you one.” Still smiling he hung up.
Donna watched and waited, vaguely irritated; Bruce’s eyes glowed with some secret amusement. She moved restlessly, making circles on the tablecloth with the base of her glass. Bruce continued to grin and say nothing.
“Would you like to dance?” she asked, expecting and instantly getting the reaction she’d hoped for. Bruce’s smile disappeared.
He looked startled, but then an infuriatingly tolerant expression settled on his face. “Yes, I would,” he said, and got up.
She could feel her heartbeat while she slid into his arms as if she’d done so a million times. This was the first time she had ever danced with Bruce—odd as it seemed. This was their first date. She smiled her own little secret smile as the pink lights dimmed. She felt his warm breath close to her ear, his hand at her back, watched the clean line of his jaw. She was aware of everything about him. Being in his arms felt so good, so right.
“I love dancing. Hey—are you lost in a dream?”
“Yes,” she murmured, “a very nice dream.”
He settled her more snugly against his body, and she found they danced together beautifully, as if they were of one mind.
“Have you looked around the room?” he whispered. “Did you notice I’ve got the most beautiful date here?”
She squeezed his shoulder. “Go on. You’re terrific for my ego. Am I also clever, intelligent, reliable, a hard worker and a good cook?”
“I don’t know about the last. We may have irreconcilable differences about veggies and their place in my life.”
She laughed and moved fractionally closer. For long, silent minutes they circled, following the insistent rhythm of the music.
“I can see the pulse in your throat,” he said. “You like this, don’t you? You’re having a good time?”
“Oh, yes,” she breathed. “This is a beautiful place. Beautiful music. Everything is beautiful.” She made an effort to share his light mood. She wanted to slide her arms around his neck and cling to him, but she didn’t dare. If she made any sort of advance he would, as Laura had said, run like hell. Donna closed her eyes and leaned against his chest, nestling closer. She must be satisfied with this much for a while. She could afford to wait until he got more used to having her around before she let him know exactly how she felt. Bruce wasn’t ready yet. He was still getting his emotions sorted out. What couldn’t wait was her confession that she didn’t want to search for her mythical father.
“Donna? Come out of your dream for a minute, will you? I’ve got some news that’s just too good to keep to myself. I’ve got to tell you about my phone call.”
She glanced up. “Well, good grief, what is it? You look as if you’re going to explode.”
“I may if I don’t get this out right now, Chickie. You know when you gave me the dope on your father?”
“What dope? What about Daddy?”
“No, the original father, your natural
father.”
She missed a beat. Guilt overwhelmed her, guilt and embarrassment. “You mean Raymond Sung?”
“You gave me the wrong spelling, love.”
“Wrong spelling? What do you mean? How many ways can there be to spell ‘Sung’? S-U-N-G, right?”
He tightened his arm around her waist for a moment, clearly delighted about something.
“Absolutely wrong. There are multiple ways of spelling Chinese names. It’s T-S-U-N-G.”
Nagging uneasiness caused her to miss another beat. “What does that mean?”
“It means I found him, Donna. I found Raymond Tsung for you. I found your father.”
“What?” She fairly shouted, coming to a dead stop. “You did what?”
“Donna, for Pete’s sake, don’t yell. Everybody’s looking.” He pulled her almost roughly back into his arms. “Dance,” he said through his teeth. “Smile.”
CHAPTER THREE
DONNA DID HER BEST to resume dancing and prayed the room’s rose-tinged lighting would mask her burning cheeks. A fixed smile settled on Bruce’s face, and the couples around them either grinned or pretended they hadn’t noticed her outburst. Donna lifted her head and took a deliberate step—onto Bruce’s foot. He stumbled.
“Donna, for Pete’s sake, I’m the guy. I’m supposed to lead.”
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry. I…can we sit down?” Bruce had actually found her father? Oh, no surely not!
“Sure, let’s go. But what’s up?” Keeping his arm around her, he shepherded her back to their table. “What’s the matter?” he asked with obvious concern as she sank into her chair, her knees wobbly.
He couldn’t have found her father. Nobody could. Prairie had tried. Poor, vague, ineffectual little Prairie. Suddenly Donna realized that Prairie had probably never known the correct spelling of the man’s name. Donna wanted to cry. There was a sick lump of dread in her stomach.
Mom and Dad. A wave of horror rushed over her. What would Mom and Dad say? They hadn’t really been comfortable with Prairie wandering in and out of their lives all these years. They’d simply been too kindhearted to stop her. The missing father had been conveniently out of it, lost, destined never to turn up and trouble anyone. What a fool she had been to try such a childish trick. Her mouth was dry. She picked up her water glass, and Bruce reached for her hand at the same time. The water sloshed over the edge.
Bruce took the glass and set it down, then lifted her wet hand and blotted it with his napkin. “Look, honey. I’m sorry I sprung my news like that. I should have prepared you. But, Donna, I had no idea you’d be so…so deeply affected. I had no idea it meant so much to you.”
She wanted to scream at him, “It means nothing to me. I don’t even know him. I don’t want to know him. He was just a nobody who passed through Prairie’s life and disappeared. Let him stay disappeared.” She felt an upsurge of tears. She mustn’t cry here, out where everybody could see. She’d already caused people on the dance floor to stare.
“Well, it’s true, Donna. I did find him for you. That’s what the phone call was about.” His voice was so gentle that she had to blink against the tears. “Donna? You okay?” He was looking at her and frowning, looking worried. He had clasped both her hands in his on the table. Never in her life had Donna felt so guilty, so utterly rotten and devious.
“Yes. I’m okay,” she said carefully; she felt the pressure of his warm hands clasping hers.
“Good girl. I guess it’s my fault for telling you so quickly, without any buildup. Forgive me, okay?”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” she murmured, looking away. And that was the understatement of the year.
“You must be a good lawyer—I mean detective,” she added, feeling that it was a vapid remark but the best she could do for the moment.
“Not really,” he answered, releasing her hands. “I got a crash course in Chinese names when I was doing a summer job once during law school.”
“I’m sorry about making the scene on the dance floor. I was just…uh…shocked for a minute.” That much was true, at least.
She had to have some water. Donna picked up her glass again and drained it. Somehow or other, she’d have to protect her mom and dad. They must never know what she’d done. She must face up to this, find a way out without hurting anyone.
Something unpleasant hovered in the back of her mind for a moment before she identified it. She’d have to meet the man. And what kind of man was he? Was he like Prairie, an aimless drifter? Any time now, tomorrow, the next day, she would be face-to-face with him. What on earth would she say?
“What…what’s he like?” she asked, her voice hollow.
“Well, good, you can still speak. I thought you’d be pleased. It was your idea.”
“It was my idea,” she agreed dolefully. “Have…have you met him? I mean, have you told him about me yet?” She had the half-formed idea that it could still be avoided somehow.
“No. I haven’t met him yet. He’s in Hong Kong.” Bruce sounded irritated.
She reached over suddenly and placed her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I appreciate what you’ve done, really I do. I know you put a lot into it. It’s just that I…I…” She paused, “Hong Kong? You said he’s in Hong Kong? You mean he isn’t…er…here?”
“No.”
She waited a moment, expecting him to continue, and when he didn’t, she prompted him.
“No what? Tell me about him, Bruce.”
“Are you sure you want to know? Well, forgive me, of course you do. That wasn’t fair. He’s due back in San Francisco in three weeks.”
“Oh,” she said in a small voice.
“He lives here. He has all his life. From what I gather, Prairie Crawford was a momentary diversion. I doubt he’s given her a thought since—if he remembers her at all.” He laced his fingers through hers.
“What is he like? I mean, what have you found out about him?”
He waited a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. “Well, I’d say this: don’t get your hopes up that he’ll welcome you with roses, a dinner party, and a big parade. My educated guess is that he may not.”
“Why do you think that?” A small hope began to stir within her. Maybe the man didn’t want to have a lost daughter in his life.
“Let me give you the facts as I’ve gathered them so far. First, he’s married,” Bruce began.
“You mean he’s got a wife?” Donna asked blankly, rejecting the idea. A strange man was somehow beginning to take shape, just outside her line of vision.
“That’s what married means, dear. And he has two kids, both boys. You have two half brothers.”
Donna gulped. She didn’t want this, any of it. She didn’t want two half brothers. There was a whole family she didn’t want. The man was taking clearer shape now. There was no shutting him out.
“I don’t understand. What’s he doing in Hong Kong—just traveling?”
“No. He took his wife and kids there. He’s done what a lot of prominent third- or fourth-generation Chinese-Americans do. Taken the wife and kids back to the old country to sop up their culture. He, and his whole family, live here in San Francisco. His wife will keep the boys overseas for a couple of years, learning the language and customs of their ancestors. It’s a good idea, actually. There’s no point in being a product of a rich culture if you can’t hang on to that along with your new culture.”
“Mom tried to get me interested in my Chinese background a couple of times,” Donna said faintly. “But I just wasn’t that enthusiastic. I guess I’m just middle-class Canadian through and through.”
“Now here’s another thing. Your father—Tsung, that is—is pretty well to do, financially, I mean. He’s the president of the First Bank of Cathay in Chinatown. And he’s big in civic things for the city. Last month he dedicated a new playground. And he gets invited to the governor’s ball every year. Are you beginning to see the man?” Bruce was observing her carefully.<
br />
“I’m beginning to see the man,” Donna admitted, not liking what she saw. All of this information was too real, too immediate.
“All right. I’m doing this for a purpose. I’m not going to spring anything else on you suddenly. I’m giving you this profile so you’ll know that as solid citizens go, this guy is very solid. Have you got that?”
“Yes. That’s pretty clear.” At least her parents wouldn’t end up having to give him money, the way they had with Prairie.
“Do you know why I’m going into this detail?”
“No.”
“So you’ll be prepared, Donna. We have here a very solid citizen. Fourth-generation Chinese-American. Pillar of society. This is not exactly the type of individual who would welcome unexpected children turning up. See what I mean?”
“You mean he won’t want to see me?” Donna asked thoughtfully. Of course. The man probably wouldn’t even want to know about her.
“Exactly. I’m afraid, Chickie, that Raymond Tsung will not be exactly overjoyed that you’ve suddenly rolled into his life. What I’m saying is, it could go either way,” he added, trying to soften his message.
“Yes, I can see that. Bruce, will you do me another favor?” Little shivers of tension ran up and down her back. She felt as if she might burst. Everything had gone wrong.
“Of course,” Bruce said, smiling. “Didn’t I just locate your missing parent for you? You name it, you got it.”
“Stop calling me ‘Chickie,”’ she said evenly. “I hate that nickname. I really hate it. I’ve always meant to tell you that I hate it.” She stopped, staring at Bruce’s astonished face. She was shaking. What a crazy thing to say. She hadn’t intended to speak so harshly. “I’m sorry.” She carried on as calmly as she could. “I didn’t mean to…to say that. I…”
“That’s okay,” he said after a moment. “So you don’t want to be called Chickie. Okay. I won’t do it. I always thought you liked it. When you were little, you did.”
“I’m not little anymore, Bruce,” she said, then closed her mouth firmly. She’d better stop there and not get in any deeper. Another second and she would say something that would completely shatter her relationship with him. All he needed was for her to announce that she was a woman and in love with him. That would send him screaming from the restaurant.
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