“I’m so sorry. I’m trying to get these people to go home.”
“Who are they?”
She looked around in dismay. Most of the protesters seemed to be elderly. She recognized some of the volunteer marshals who belonged to the same seniors’ club as Charlie, but young mothers were there, too, pushing children in strollers, or toting babies in carriers strapped to their chests. On the fringes she even noticed a couple of derelicts, clutching brown paper bags and watching the action.
“When I was down at the seniors’ club I mentioned about the parade in passing, but I never meant for this to happen. I never knew anything about it until this morning. I got a call from George asking me to spearhead the protest,” he said in disgust. “He wanted me to come down in my Santa suit, for heaven’s sake.”
She groaned. “What a mess! Charlie, we have to do something. Oh my God, there’s Mr. Stevenson.”
Through the glass door at the top of the steps she could see his round face, jowls quivering with outrage. His yes-men stood by, all frowning their disapproval at the gathering below. She felt thankful for one small mercy: at least Michael was out of town and wouldn’t see all this. Especially since most of the slogans were mocking him personally.
She caught sight of another placard and winced.
MICHAEL WORTHLESS, HANDS OFF OUR PARADE!
A siren wailed, and within minutes half a dozen policemen were moving through the crowd, getting people off the road and back onto the pavement.
“Okay, folks, break it up.” The biggest and burliest of the officers patiently helped a mother get her stroller out of the way, then turned to the elderly woman standing beside Sabrina. With her picture hat, flowered dress and a white purse over one arm she was a dead ringer for the Queen Mother, except for the placard she carried over one shoulder saying DOWN WITH THE FASCIST SANTA KILLER!
The policeman spoke to her, not unkindly. “Let’s all move along now.”
“Forget it, you Nazi!” The Queen Mother whirled around and grabbed Sabrina’s wrist. “We’ll form a human chain. They’ll have to drag us out of here!”
Which the police promptly did.
* * *
AN HOUR LATER she was sitting in the local police station, along with all the other protesters. An officer had come in and told them they would be released when a friend or relative signed them out. When her turn came, she’d called Anya, assuming she even had a job to return to, after the nightmarish scene that followed the protest.
After trying to get the crowd to break up, the police began leading people, some kicking and protesting, to the paddy wagons.
She’d felt sorry for the huge cop who had to escort a tiny white-haired lady. What could he do with an elderly woman who was beating at him with her placard? She had been warbling, “When I was your age, young man, I chained myself to the doors of City Hall to get women the vote!”
“Yeah, yeah. Sure, grandma. Mind your head there.” He settled her into the paddy wagon.
He had come back and taken Sabrina by the arm. Beneath the peaked cap his face glowed red and his forehead was beaded with sweat. “You, too. Come along now.”
“No, you don’t understand. I’m the coordinator....”
“Then you should be ashamed of yourself, getting all these old people involved in this mess.”
She winced at the memory and sank farther down into her seat. Walter Stevenson was probably chortling with satisfaction right now. Here was his chance to tear up her employment contract.
Over in one corner the Queen Mother was loudly berating every authority figure from the prime minister on down as a bunch of fascists, while the little old white-haired suffragette sat on a couch nearby, bemoaning her fate in this “hellhole.”
Sabrina suppressed a smile as she looked around the pleasant room. It seemed to be some kind of lounge with comfortable furniture and prints on the wall, and even a pop machine in one corner.
The man next to her on the couch patted the old lady’s hand. “Don’t worry, Martha. John is coming down from the home. He’ll get us all out.”
Sabrina turned to Charlie and felt dismayed to see him sitting hunched and dejected in his chair.
“This is all my fault. The blame rests squarely on my shoulders.”
“That’s not true, Charlie.”
“If I hadn’t opened my big mouth...”
“How were you supposed to know George would get so carried away?”
He shook his head. Even his smart mustache seemed to be drooping a little. “I should have just kept my big mouth shut.”
“If it comes to that, so should I.”
“Here comes one of the screws,” muttered the old lady in the corner, the light of battle in her eyes again.
Charlie’s gaze shifted over Sabrina’s shoulder. “I think you’re about to be sprung from this hellhole, Sabrina.”
She turned to see Michael standing in the doorway. For a moment, as she met his gaze, nothing else existed. These past two weeks had felt like years. She’d missed him so much. This was what it meant to love someone. That just the sight of him could give her so much joy.
“Sabrina.” He moved toward her.
She had to say something, do something. She turned to Charlie, but before she could introduce them, the older man held out his hand.
“Mr. Worth, I’m Charlie Andersen. And before you say anything, I want you to know this whole mess was my fault. Sabrina had nothing to do with it. Whatever you were going to say to her, say it to me.”
Michael shook the offered hand. His face was grave, but there was a hint of laughter in his eyes as he shrugged. “Well, okay...darling, are you all right?”
Sabrina choked on a giggle. Charlie stared at Michael for a moment as if he’d gone mad, then his eyes twinkled and a grin broke across his distinguished old face.
“This young man of yours is all right, Sabrina.”
She blushed and Michael gave her a keen look, then smiled. “There was no harm done. Things like this happen all the time...to Sabrina.”
She groaned and rolled her eyes. “You can say that again.”
Charlie patted her arm. “Mr. Worth, you’ve got a wonderful girl here.”
“Yes, I know.” The warmth in Michael’s eyes took her breath away.
“Mr. Worth? You’re Mr. Worth?” The tiny old lady raised herself from the couch and stepped closer to wag a bony finger in his face. “Now listen here, young man. I was speaking to your mother last night and she said you always were a wild one.”
Michael reared back from the accusing finger and shot Sabrina a bemused look.
“Now, now, Martha, let’s not keep Mr. Worth. He’s a busy man with things to do.” Charlie gently took her arm and led her back to her seat, casting them an apologetic look over his shoulder.
“You’re all a bunch of fascists!” came an angry grumble from the other old lady in the corner.
Sabrina felt the corners of her mouth beginning to twitch and noticed that Michael, after his initial bemusement, was also fighting back a grin. He looked down at her, his eyes glowing with an intoxicating mixture of devilment and appreciation.
“We’d better get going. Can I give you a lift, Mr. Andersen?”
“Call me Charlie. And thanks all the same, but I’m expecting my daughter any minute.”
With a wave to Charlie, Sabrina walked quickly out of the building, with Michael right behind. Reaching the gleaming green Jag in the parking lot, she collapsed against it as they both exploded in laughter.
“You should have seen the look on your face!” she gasped, finally able to get out the words.
“Where do you find them?” he choked out.
“Come on, they’re not that bad.” Drawing a deep breath, she began to calm down.
“And not that sane, either.”
She shook her head. “Dear old Mrs. Entwistle. She’s nearly ninety and really quite sweet.”
“You mean, really quite batty. But you’re right, she is rather sw
eet. And so are you. Do me a favor and never change, Sabrina. Even when you’re ninety.”
Suddenly her throat tightened and it was hard to breathe. Standing in the middle of the drab parking lot, everything else receded except the need that pulled them together.
“I think we’d better get going. I have a lot of work to do.” She turned away and fumbled with the door handle.
His hand closed over hers, warm and firm. “I’d rather go someplace and talk.”
She quickly removed her fingers and put her hands behind her back. “I don’t think that would be a good idea, Michael.”
He gave her a long unreadable look, then opened the door for her. As she got into the passenger seat, she darted him a quick glance and met an implacable, steady gaze that sent a tremor racing through her. He wasn’t going to give up. But that wasn’t what scared her. What scared her was knowing she wouldn’t be able to keep him at a distance for long.
He got in and started the engine, then drove out of the lot while she stared hard out the window. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t cope with her emotions.
She turned to him. She had to find something to say to fill up the silence. “How was London?”
“Long and tedious without you there.”
“Please, Michael, don’t...”
He let out his breath in a sigh of frustration, gripping the wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white. The tension was becoming unbearable.
She turned her face back to the window. She was so in love with him, and he was such a wonderful man, but he could be the most heartbreaking thing that ever happened to her.
After a while she came out of her dark musings and realized they were heading away from downtown, away from the store. She turned to him quickly, feeling a little panicked. “Where are you going?”
He gave her a quick glance, then looked back at the road. His lips curved in a slow smile. “I’m kidnapping you,” he said in a husky drawl.
“What!” She jerked upright and grabbed at the dash for support. She couldn’t afford to be alone with him.
He glanced over at her again and she caught her breath. His face was lit with a boyish, mischievous light. She had to fight the urge to reach over and brush back the rakish lock of dark hair that curled down onto his forehead. My God, how could she keep up her resistance when everything about him affected her so strongly?
“It’s been the longest two weeks of my life since I last saw you and I finally have you to myself. I just want to spend some time alone with you.”
His words sent a thrill of pure pleasure racing through her, and pure pain. She wanted to be with him, too, but she couldn’t trust herself. She couldn’t let this happen.
“Michael, I have work to do. I can’t take off just like that. I have a meeting with Jonathan.”
The low gray clouds were clearing as they drove east along Lakeshore Boulevard, past the industrial jumble of wharf buildings and loading machinery serving the lake freighters.
He picked up the car phone between them. “Call him. Reschedule.”
“I can’t. This is important. I can’t let my personal life interfere with my job.”
He let the phone drop back into its cradle with a clatter and sent her a quick mocking glance. “Don’t you mean, you shouldn’t let your job interfere with your personal life?”
She sighed and looked out the window without seeing any of the scenery. “We can’t ignore the fact that we work together.”
He expelled a heavy breath. “Look, Sabrina. I know we decided that mixing business with pleasure was bad news—” the tired resignation sharpened, becoming adamant and passionate “—but what’s happening between us is impossible to ignore.”
“I’m not trying to ignore it. On the contrary, I’m fighting it very hard. It’s bad for us. We can’t give in to it.”
“Sabrina—”
“Michael.” She turned and cut him off. “Can’t we just spend some time together without letting all this get in the way?”
“Can you?”
His quiet voice disturbed her and she turned back to look out of the window. On the right was the beginning of lakefront parkland. In the distance she could see the tall brick houses of Woodbine Avenue, only a few blocks from her place. Was he planning on going there?
But as they passed an inlet filled with small craft gently bobbing on the waves, he suddenly slowed and turned off the boulevard into Ashbridges Bay Park.
In the midmorning quiet, the parking lot was almost deserted. He pulled into a spot close to the beach, shaded by an avenue of maples in their brilliant autumn colors. He shut off the ignition and turned in his seat to look at her squarely.
“Can’t we be just friends, Michael?”
“That wouldn’t be enough for me. I can’t ignore the way you make me feel.”
Not the way he felt about her. The way she made him feel. He was talking about desire and she was talking about love. “Well, you have to.”
She threw open the door and jumped out of the car, striding across the parking lot toward the water with tense steps. Torn and confused, she couldn’t risk being so close to him, couldn’t risk losing control.
Crossing the boardwalk, she stepped onto the sand, heading without thinking for the jumble of limestone boulders crowning the shallow sweep of the bay. She had to get away, put some space between them, or she was lost.
Her feet sank into the warm sand, the breeze off the lake played through her hair and felt like velvet on her bare arms. It was a spectacular day. Spread out before her, the vast expanse of water was a patchwork of muted grays and sparkling turquoise. In the distance, boat sails gleamed in the bright sunlight, while gulls wheeled and screeched overhead.
Michael caught up with her, his warm fingers lacing through hers, pulling her to a stop. She snatched her hand away from the touch that burned through her like fire. Standing on a boulder above him, she looked down into eyes filled with loneliness.
“Please, don’t run away. I agree to any terms you want. If you want to keep it just friends, I’ll try, I promise.” He squinted away across the water for a moment, then brought his tormented gaze back to her. “Just stay with me, talk to me.”
All her resistance was seeping away and it frightened her. But what harm was there in just talking? And what else could they do in such a public place?
“What do you want to talk about?”
“You choose. Anything you want. I just want to be where you are.” He let out a sigh and closed his eyes for a moment.
“The parade.”
He opened them and looked at her with a tinge of exasperation. “We’ll discuss that later. I don’t want to talk about work. Pick something else.”
“Tell me about your wife, then.”
Fleeting surprise crossed his face, then he squinted off into the distance. “I don’t want to talk about Lorraine, either,” he said impatiently, then looked back up at her. “Anything else, not Lorraine.”
“But I want to know about the woman you married.”
He held her gaze for a long moment, then moved over to the boulders at the water’s edge and sat down, uncaring of the knife-edge crease in his charcoal-gray wool suit.
After a moment of hesitation, she lowered herself beside him, careful not to sit too close. Desire filled the air between them.
“What do you want to know?”
She turned to meet his eyes filled with an intimacy and warmth that made her feel cherished. It would be madness to allow herself to bask in the feeling.
“Everything.”
His brow furrowed as he looked out across the lake. He said nothing for a long moment and she thought he wasn’t going to comply.
“We met when I was at Oxford. I was eighteen. She was twenty-five and worked in the local pub. Lorraine was quite a...sexual creature. All the guys were crazy about her.”
“And, of course, you were crazy about her, too,” she said with a lightness she didn’t feel. It hurt to even think about him with a
nother woman, but she’d been the one who had brought up the subject.
He shrugged. “I’d never had any girlfriends before. I was old before my time, in many ways, but when it came to women...I was...um...uninitiated....”
Like father, like son, she mused silently.
“I was flabbergasted that she singled me out,” Michael continued.
Was it any wonder? She traced his chiseled profile, his crisply curling black hair. At eighteen he must have been a young Adonis.
“And of course, I fell madly in love.” He was far away, lost in memories that clearly gave him no pleasure. “With all those other guys after her, I couldn’t believe my luck when she told me she loved me, too.”
The hurt in his voice sent a stab of pain through her. After all these years, was he still in love with Lorraine?
“Anyway, before I knew it, there was a baby on the way. She had quit her job at the pub, we got married and she moved in with me.” He shifted restlessly and tossed a couple of pebbles into the water. When he spoke again, his voice was cold. “When I told my mother, she had a fit. She told me not to be such a fool. That Lorraine was only interested in me for my money.” He stopped with a contemptuous twist of his mouth.
Automatically, Sabrina reached out and put a hand on his arm to comfort him.
“She offered Lorraine a settlement if she’d have an abortion and agree to an annulment. Lorraine refused. I saw it as a sign that she really loved me.” He gave a short humorless laugh. “Boy, was I wrong.”
“What happened?”
“Sybil cut off my allowance. I didn’t care. I was quite prepared to quit school and go to work, but fortunately I landed a good part-time job that enabled me to keep a roof over our heads. I thought I was doing quite well.” Now he shot her a twisted smile. “But Sybil was right. It wasn’t what Lorraine had bargained for. She’d expected to be living in the lap of luxury. We began to fight.”
Until now she’d had no reason to think the marriage had been anything but idyllic. Hearing the awful truth made her feel even more pained for him.
“After Colin was born, I think she expected Sybil to relent and reinstate my allowance, but when I told her that I didn’t want to take any more money from my mother, that we would have to live on what I earned, she was brutally honest about the way she really felt about me.”
Man Under the Mistletoe Page 14