Storm Over the Lake

by Diana Palmer

  “There was a job in composing,” Jack sighed. “We filled that Saturday. God, I’m sorry! Dana, look, if you need any money…”

  She shook her head proudly and managed a smile. “No, uh, I have all I need.” She stood up. “Jack, thanks anyway.”

  “What for?” he growled, self-contempt in every word. “For selling you out?” He sighed heavily. “I hope I’m doing the right thing,” he muttered and glanced at her. “Where are you staying?”

  She told him, puzzled at his strange behavior.

  He jotted it down. “I’ll look around and if I find anything, here or on another paper, I’ll call you. Going to be there for another day or so?”

  “Probably,” she said, noncommittally.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, gazing at her pale, haunted face. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

  “Is it?” she thought bitterly. But she only smiled and said, “Sure.”

  Sitting over a cup of steaming black coffee after the delicious meal at Esteban’s, she sighed and forgot the hopelessness of the future. So she starved! This meal would go a long way.

  “Good, huh?” Maria grinned, as big as her husband was thin. “Eat more.”

  Dana shook her head. “I can’t. But thank you so much, it was delicious, all of it!”

  Esteban studied her with narrowed eyes. “Miss Meredith…Dana, if I may…something is wrong, I can tell. Please, you helped my son, is there some way we can help you?”

  Dana sighed with a tiny smile. “Only if you can pull a job out of a hat. The newspaper doesn’t need me.”

  There was a rapid exchange of Spanish as Maria and Esteban discussed the situation.

  “Does it matter what you do?” Esteban asked quickly. “I mean…Maria knows where there is a job, but it is not so…I mean, you may not want to…”

  “Esteban, I have sixteen dollars in my purse,” she told him with quiet pride. “And a very expensive bracelet which I’d rather starve than pawn. Does that answer your question? I don’t have time to go to an employment agency or the labor department and wade through prospective jobs that will probably be filled when I get there. I’ll gladly wait tables, wash dishes, or scrub floors…anything so that I can eat and keep a roof over my head. That’s my only immediate ambition.”

  “Spoken like a true…what is the word, trooper?” he grinned. “Si, it is waiting tables in a small cafe. Hard work and long hours, but the tips will be good. Can you go now with Maria to see?”

  She nodded. “Esteban, how do I thank you, both of you?” she asked earnestly.

  “Repeat after me, muchas gracias,” he laughed.

  It wasn’t much of a cafe. The paint was peeling off the walls, there were rips in the vinyl seats of the booths, and occasionally an ant made a pilgrimage across the scarred tile floor. But Cherry Johnson, who owned the restaurant, paid good wages and kept out drunks and took Dana under her wing as if she’d been a baby chick. And Dana began to enjoy the routine, to recognize certain customers as regulars, to look forward to a job without the kind of pressures that had dominated her young life. Maria had helped her find a small, clean apartment just a block from the cafe, and one of the regular latenight customers, an elderly man, escorted her home to see that she got there safely.

  She had everything she needed, Dana told herself. She felt a twinge of guilt about leaving the motel without a forwarding address, and about not getting back in touch with Jack, but what was the use?

  A week after she took the job, Cherry Johnson sold the cafe to a stiff-necked ex-bartender who began an immediate renovation of it and rode Dana from dawn until dusk about trifles. What had begun as a pleasant job rapidly turned into a nightmare and she had no way out. The tips were too good, and she earned as much in one night as she might have in two days on the paper. It was better to put up with the abuse and the criticism and eat than to walk out and be in the frightening position she’d found herself in before. She gritted her teeth, and worked even harder, and pretended that she was about to embark on a protracted cruise to Tahiti.

  But it was telling on her. She’d lost weight—it was inevitable since she had little appetite. Her face was pale and drawn, her eyes wide and haunted in that thin wanness, her whole look one of mute resignation. The long hours were tiring, her legs ached at night. And in her dreams, Adrian came to haunt her like a handsome dark ghost.

  The bracelet stayed tucked away in a bureau drawer, carefully hidden, and sometimes she took it out and just looked at it. This morning, she wore it under her longsleeved blouse. It was precious, because he’d given it to her. Ironically, the amount she could have sold it for would have solved all her problems. But she’d honestly have starved rather than sell it.

  It was the longest day she could remember, and she felt weak from the effects of lifting and carrying heavy chairs. Sanders, her new boss, had her shift tables around because he didn’t like the setup.

  “Stop loafing, Dana,” he whined when she paused to lean heavily on a chair, her face almost white with weariness, the reddish light of the sunset filtering through the window to tinge her hair with fiery glow.

  “I’m not loafing, Mr. Sanders,” she said quietly. “I’m so tired…”

  “I thought reporters were on the move all the time,” he chided, folding his fleshy arms to study her with his tiny black eyes. “That’s what you were, right? One of them nosey reporters. I hate reporters, Miss Meredith, did you know that?”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied.

  “Fancy lady,” he growled distastefully. “All mind, no brawn. I got half a mind to kick you out in the…Well, now, what’s that? The clientele is definitely improving! Get up off that chair, you cow, here comes a customer!” he snapped at Dana.

  The bell on the door jingled as it opened. “Yes, sir, what can we do for you?” Sanders asked with a grin.

  A tingling sensation in the back of Dana’s neck made her straighten and turn around. And a surge of feeling, like hundreds of volts of electricity, ran through her body like sunlight filtering through satin. Adrian!

  The shock of seeing him, of having him see her in such a deplorable state, brought tears to her eyes. She stood there gaping at him in a burning silence, her hair hanging half up, half down, her face white and drawn, her eyes red-rimmed, her cap sliding sideways on her head, her uniform crumpled…Miniature explosions were taking place in the dark eyes that ate her from head to toe.

  Without a word, he moved toward her, stopping only inches away. He removed the cap from her head with meticulous care, studied it as if it were some strange insect. Then, with a contempt that said more than words ever could, he dropped it on the floor and ground it under his polished shoe.

  “Hey, you can’t do…” Sanders began angrily.

  Adrian turned and looked at him. That was all, but it must have been enough, because the man turned and went into the kitchen.

  “Let’s go,” Adrian told her in a voice like none she’d ever heard, as if he were choking, strangling, with fury.

  He caught her hand, ignoring the tears streaming down her cheeks, and half led, half dragged her out of the cafe to the waiting gray Rolls with Frank at the wheel. He put her inside and got in after her, drawing the curtain between them and Frank as he told the driver in a voice like shredded ice to drive around the city.

  The car pulled away from the curb, and Adrian turned toward her, his eyes as dark as singed chestnuts, his face ashen under the tan, his jaw taut, his mouth a thin line. And with a groan almost of anguish, he reached for her.

  Wrapped in those big, warm arms, she let the tears come, let the sobs shake her slender body. It was like coming home. He rocked her gently, his face buried in the tangle of hair at her throat, his strong fingers like pegs digging into her back as he bruised her against him. Incredibly, he was trembling; his breathing as harsh and ragged as if he’d been running.

  “Dana,” he whispered hoarsely, his breath warm against her neck through the silky hair. “Oh, God, honey…!”
<
br />   “I love you,” she whispered brokenly, her hands warming against the broad chest where her cheek was pressed. “Adrian, I love you so, I love you…”

  He stiffened. Froze. She could feel every separate muscle of that massive chest contract as if he’d been struck by a bullet.

  She caught her breath and closed her eyes on the humiliation that came after that involuntary outburst. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “That just…just slipped out. Please let me go…”

  “Never.” The word was spoken in such a low tone, and so huskily, that she barely heard it. His big arms contracted until they hurt her, and it was the sweetest pain she’d ever known. “I’ll never let you go, not as long as I live…here, Dana…” He tilted her face just a little, and his mouth went down against hers, warm and hard and almost terrifyingly hungry. She felt a tremor rip through him, felt the sudden harsh intake of breath, felt his hard mouth opening sensuously against hers. With a tiny cry, she gave him back the bruising kiss, and the heavens seemed to burst with color behind her closed eyelids. Dazed with the force of her own response, she vaguely heard him as he murmured, “Baby, I love you,” fiercely against her mouth, over and over again. Out of a nightmare had come the wonder of paradise.

  Minutes later, they were sitting quietly in a well-lit supermarket parking lot while cars and shoppers came and went around them with intense curiosity.

  “We’re being stared at,” Dana murmured, her cheek resting comfortably against the warm white silk of Adrian’s shirt, the heavy comforting beat of his heart at her ear.

  “Let them stare,” he murmured back, brushing a lazy kiss across her forehead. “Dana, do you know how long I’ve been looking for you? Do you know what I’ve been through not knowing where you were, or what you were doing…damn it, why didn’t you call Jack and tell him you’d moved?!”

  She drew back. “You knew!”

  He made a disgusted face. “Oh, hell, of course I knew. You only had one place to go, and that was to him. I was on the phone before your plane even landed. I told him not to hire you, but to find out where you were staying and call me.” He sighed wearily. “By the time I got here, with the usual aggravating obstacles like late flights and fouled up arrangements, you’d already left the motel. I’ve gone through two agencies of private detectives. They only found you this afternoon.” He shook his head. “I had every jeweler in Miami and every pawn shop alerted. I thought you might pawn the bracelet and I’d find you through it.”

  She unbuttoned her sleeve and raised her wrist under his astonished eyes. “You gave it to me,” she explained gently. “I’d have sold one of my legs before I’d have given it up.”

  His dark face tautened to steel with that admission, a muscle in his jaw working with the force of his emotions as he met her loving eyes. “I feel just that way about you, and that’s God’s own truth. You’re so much a part of me, I think I’d die if I had to spend my life away from you. Is it that way with you?”

  “Yes, Adrian. It was that way with me three years ago,” she whispered tearfully.

  His mouth touched hers so gently, so tenderly, it brought tears brimming over her eyelids. “I didn’t realize until I’d thrown you out that first time, so long ago, that you’d taken half my soul with you. By the time I realized it, it was too late. Then, a few weeks ago, I saw your picture in the magazine, and all the love came flooding back, and I had to have one more chance,” he whispered. “Just one more…and I couldn’t seem to keep Fayre and Melbourne at bay long enough to find out how you really felt. I knew I could make you respond in a physical sense, I saw how you reacted to me. But it wasn’t until that night in the kitchen when you asked me if I’d ever wanted children that I began to hope.”

  She gazed up into his eyes quietly. “That night…when you left me at the lake…”

  “Wanting you until it hurt,” he grinned, “and so jealous of Melbourne I could taste it…God I’ve never been so drunk in my life. I wound up at Fayre’s apartment, without even realizing how I got there. She saw a golden opportunity and took me home for you to find. The irony of it,” he mused with a long, meaningful glance at Dana’s rapt face, “is that I haven’t touched Fayre since you walked back into my life. I haven’t wanted anyone but you.”

  The tears came back and she reached up to touch his face, letting her fingers explore his hard jaw, his mouth. “Pat was a friend, and just that, Adrian.”

  “I know. Jealousy can drive a man mad, little girl.” He studied her. “Seventeen years, Dana…”

  “I love you,” she whispered. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to give you children and laughter and moonlight and unicorns…”

  He swallowed heavily. “It might be a good idea if you married me before we start on the children,” he suggested, with a wry smile.

  She flushed sweetly. “If you say so. After all,” she added, lifting her mouth to his, “you’re the boss!”

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-4367-9

  STORM OVER THE LAKE

  First published in North America as a MacFadden Romance by Kim Publishing Corporation.

  Copyright © 1979 by Diana Palmer.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017 U.S.A.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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