Fools Rush In

by Gwynne Forster

  “Kiss Juju, Daddy.”

  She wanted to wipe the grin off his face. He buzzed the child’s cheek and let his gaze caress Justine. “Have a good time, and stay out of trouble.”

  “If I don’t get into any right here, I’m perfectly safe,” she threw over her shoulder as she rushed out.

  He was musing over her words when her personal phone rang. He put Tonya in her crib and dashed across the hall to Justine’s room. “Hello.”

  “Is Ms. Taylor there?”

  “She just left,” he told the man. “Who’s calling?”

  “Warren Stokes.”

  The parasite. “Oh, yes, Warren. How’s it going, buddy?”

  “Fine. What time will Justine be back?”

  He ran his hand over his hair, looked at the mouth piece, and told himself not to react. “I didn’t ask Ms. Taylor when she’d be back, so I don’t know.”

  “Where’d she go, do you know?”

  Duncan told himself that Warren wanted to needle him and that he shouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d succeeded. He counted to ten. “My daughter is here with me, which means Ms. Taylor is on her own time doing whatever she likes wherever she pleases. Anything else?”

  “I don’t suppose I can rely on you to give her a message.”

  Duncan bristled. “I’ll tell her anything you like, because it won’t matter a damn to her. What do you say? You’re wasting my time.”

  “You’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you? I’ll call again when I think she’s home.”

  “Suit yourself, buddy.”

  Duncan walked back to Tonya’s room when he realized that she’d been calling him. He slapped his left fist into his right palm, thought of what he’d done, and laughed. It wasn’t much of a consolation, but it relieved his desire to give old Warren a good sock to the jaw.

  Justine parked in the garage of the Willard Hotel and took the elevator to the lobby. She looked around for Banks, didn’t see her, and headed for the dining room.

  “Miss Banks is waiting for you,” the maitre d’ told her.

  She followed him to a table in the far corner of the room, which shone brilliantly with hundreds of tiny chandeliers, and knew a sense of wonder as Banks, tall, slender, and so much like Duncan, stood and rushed to meet her.

  “You’re practically a double for your brother,” she told Banks. “It almost gives me the willies.”

  Banks tugged at her arm. “Our mother was supposed to have twins, but she decided two infants would be too much trouble, and postponed me. I’m not as good looking as he is.”

  Justine couldn’t resist hugging her. “God smiled on you, girl, so don’t complain.”

  Each ordered a full course lunch, and Justine wanted to know how Banks stayed so slim. Told that smokers were less likely to eat between meals, Justine resisted telling her that they were also more likely to have some undesirable experiences.

  “How’s Wayne?” she asked, breaking the ice.

  “He’s just…I don’t know how to put it. Special, I guess.”

  “Do you see him?”

  “He took me down to Baltimore to see the Great Blacks In Wax Museum and showed me around the newspaper plant. Then he took me to lunch. It was on a Saturday, and he drove me all around Baltimore. Even showed me his pied-à-terre. That’s where he stays when he spends the night in Baltimore.”

  Justine raised an eyebrow. “What about his etchings? Did you see any of those?”

  Laughter rolled out of Banks. “I never cared for those things, so it’s good that he didn’t plan to show me any. He’s a super guy, Justine, but he moves so slow. Darnit.”

  “I’m always worried when they move too fast. What attracts you to him?”

  She almost envied Banks her dreamy-eyed demeanor as she talked about Wayne. “Honest, everything. But I think it’s because he’s so masculine. You should have seen him sitting on the sofa in his office with his hands locked behind his head and his long legs spread out in front of him. I practically incinerated.”

  “But there has to be more than that, Banks.”

  “There is, but I just like a man who sits with his legs wide apart.” She whistled softly.

  Justine finished chewing her shrimp and drank some water. She had thought Banks inexperienced and now wondered whether she might be naive. “Why? What does that say about a man?”

  She needn’t have worried. “I could be wrong but, to me, it says he knows who he is and what he’s got going for him. Duncan sits like that. Haven’t you noticed?”

  Justine hoped that her face had an air of innocence. “Uh…Yes, I suppose I have.”

  Banks’s eyes widened and a frown creased her face. “Look, girlfriend, I’m no expert on the man-woman business, but I bet there isn’t anything about Duncan that you haven’t noticed. Which side of his face has a dimple?”

  Justine hesitated.

  Banks laid her head to one side and shrugged. “Okay, don’t tell me, but you know.”

  Justine blew out the breath she’d been holding. “The right one.”

  Banks nodded. “Yeah. And I bet you could answer every question I might ask you about Duncan.”

  “What’s your point?” Justine asked her, though she might as well have been questioning the complexity of the universe.

  Banks’s expression sobered. “I like you a lot, Justine, so I warn you never to ask me a question unless you want my answer. I think you’re crazy about Duncan, and I don’t think he’s immune to you, either. That’s why I asked you to lunch today. He’s been badly hurt, and you could be what he needs, but you have secrets. I don’t want to know what they are. I just want to tell you that I’m in your corner, and that if you’re loyal and honest, you’ve got a real prize.”

  The pain. Always the insidious pain of living a lie. A life that went against every principle that she held dear. And what choice did she have? She could promise loyalty and even a measure of honesty, but far less than he’d demand. And in the end, she’d have nothing. Banks’s fingers touched her hand in a gesture of comfort.

  “He’s a wonderful person, different from any man I’ve known. If for no other reason, I’ll always cherish this time in his home.”

  Banks’s softly modulated tones reached her as though from a long distance. “Can you and I be friends, Justine? Real friends, I mean. Girlfriends?”

  It wouldn’t make sense, because you shared your innermost secrets with your girlfriends, and she couldn’t promise that. “I want us to be good friends, Banks, but I’m in the peculiar position of working as a servant in your brother’s home.”

  Banks threw up both hands. “Come off it! I’m not ready to pronounce on that yet, so let’s not include that in our conversation. Okay?”

  She wasn’t so daring as to question her. “All right. Friends.”

  Banks seemed unaccountably pleased, causing Justine to wonder if she’d acted wisely in agreeing to a closer friendship with Duncan’s sister. “I’m not going to be paranoid about this,” she told herself. “Are you going to stay with us…at Duncan’s house tonight?” she asked her.

  “Nope. I’m not staying with you and Duncan tonight; I promised our mother I’d go with her to shop for antiques tomorrow afternoon, and if I stay over here, I’d have to get up too early. It’s your day off, so why don’t you come stay with me? Mama wants to meet you.”

  So she’d heard the slip. “Banks, I’m off this afternoon, but Duncan may want to go out tonight, and—”

  She closed one eye and raised the other eyebrow as Duncan sometimes did when he wanted to show impatience. “We’re friends, remember? Duncan will let you do anything you want to that’s within reason. But I see I have to make appointments with you. Ready to go?”

  After hugs that Justine realized were truly genuine, they parted in the garage and went to their cars. She told herself that she was anxious to get home because she missed Tonya, but in truth, she felt like her old self—enthusiastic, bubbling with the wonders of the world ar
ound her—and needed to share that self with Duncan. She didn’t know when her senses had been so alive, so open to life. She parked in Duncan’s garage, and stood in front of the house letting the late autumn chill invigorate her. The breeze brought evidence of somebody’s outdoor barbecue, as the scent of grilling beef provoked her olfactory glands and the quietly dying sun cast long shadows all around her.

  “I hope you enjoyed the afternoon.”

  She should have known he was near, that he was part of the peace that had settled over her. She couldn’t change the way she felt, but she intended to find the strength to avoid involvement and keep her sanity.

  “We get on surprisingly well. I enjoyed being with her.”

  “Was she crying or jubilant about Wayne?”

  He’d said it lightly, but she detected a concern. “Neither. She’s enchanted with him, and he’s gentle with her, but she’s impatient, because he moves slowly. I told her I’m always wary of the ones who go too fast.”

  “Any woman should be. A man ought to give himself time to know what he wants before he makes a move on a woman.”

  She turned and faced him squarely. “Do you know what you want?”

  He frowned, but a smile finally moved over his face. “Always. Knowing what I want has never been a problem for me; the trouble comes in deciding whether I should have it.” The glow faded from her eyes, and he looked away into the distance. “You’re the most frustrating dilemma I ever faced.”

  The minute his mood changed, his aura began to swirl around her, reminding her of his male strength and the treasures to be found in his arms. She took a step away from him.

  “You say a man ought to know what he wants? I say a woman has to be certain she can handle the consequences of what she wants. You can do something in a moment and spend the rest of your life trying to heal the heartache.”

  Leaves now brown swirled at their feet, as the wind increased in velocity and the air snapped and sizzled around them. A squirrel raced across the lawn and over Duncan’s shoes, the sun cast its last long shadow and slept for the night; far away a dog howled; over on Blair Road, an ambulance screamed for the right-of-way. They neither saw nor heard any of it. Her senses whirled dizzily.

  Fists balled up. Legs wide apart. Heat in his eyes. She knew he wasn’t going to swallow his truth and braced herself. “If I ever love you, Justine, if I ever hold you and love you…Woman, don’t talk to me about consequences, because when we’re on fire, they won’t matter. If I ever love you, Justine, I’ll damn well take the consequences.”

  The implications of his words all but sucked her into him, destroying her will and eating at her sanity. She wanted to leave, for the peace she’d had moments earlier lay scattered around her. Yet, he spoke the truth, and she couldn’t deny that she wanted what that truth implied.

  Still, she refused to bow to the torment he’d stirred in her. “Our consequences wouldn’t be the same, Duncan, and I’m not rash enough to say I’d willingly accept them, because the Lord knows I wouldn’t. I want things to stay as they are, and I intend to work overtime making sure of that.”

  His eyes narrowed, and he nodded as though comprehending something of importance. “Nothing will happen that you don’t initiate, Justine. I told you once, you’re as safe here as you would be in the Vatican. But like I also said, if you come to me, I will not send you away.”

  “I know, and I appreciate the assurance, but I have to tell you, Mr. Banks, your self-control is anything but flattering.”

  His gaze burned her. “You think you want to be around if I let it fly? Open my bedroom door any night your curiosity gets out of hand. Be glad to accommodate you.” He slung his arm around her shoulder as he would his sister. “Come on. It’s getting cold out here.”

  He walked into the house with her, but continued alone to the back garden, bunched his shoulders, and headed for the woods. She knew he wanted her, so he hadn’t told her anything. But she’d told him plenty, and if he were unscrupulous, he’d research her life. After all, if anybody knew how to do that, he did. As an investigative journalist, he could get just about any information he wanted. He didn’t let himself think hard about the inconsistencies that didn’t add up, about his near certainty that he knew her from somewhere, and about her upper-middle-class polish and educated mind. He ought to, but for reasons he couldn’t fathom, he couldn’t make himself go behind her back for the answers. She did what he’d hired her for, and Tonya loved her. That was what mattered.

  He kicked a patch of moss that clung to the roots of a pine, still green. Why hadn’t he told her that Warren called? He walked on, enjoying the squirrels and chipmunks that carried acorns to their lairs for the winter’s food supply. Ensuring their future. Warren. The man was no slouch, even if he did have a weakness for the connoisseur’s whiskey. He didn’t seem Justine’s type, and he’d bet his last dollar that she didn’t want him, but there was no accounting for taste, nor for a person’s reasons for getting involved. The wind plowed into him with increasing force, and he turned back toward the house. He didn’t want the guy near Justine, but he had no right to interfere.

  He went inside, ran up the stairs, and knocked on her door, and his heart took off in a thundering race when she cracked it open and gazed up at him, her vulnerability spread across her face.

  “Want to go to the movies tomorrow night?”

  He’d known she’d be surprised. “What? Uh…I don’t think so.”

  Her demeanor didn’t match her words, so he threw in a teaser. “Jack Nicholson. I looked for something with Denzel Washington, but nothing’s around. How about it?”

  “You know that Jack is my favorite.”

  He stroked the back of his neck with his left hand. He hated to lie. “He is? Well, I’ll be. Want to go? We can eat out first, and Mattie can have the evening off.”

  “What about Tonya?”

  “I’ll get a sitter, the one I always used before you came. She’s very reliable. What do you say?”

  She nodded. “All right. What time?”

  “We can leave here anytime after five. See you later.” He didn’t want to give her a chance to change her mind, so he jogged downstairs to the basement and shot a few games of pool.

  Justine couldn’t decide whether to dress casually or go for broke. On an impulse, she dialed his cell number.

  “Hello.”

  Strange that he didn’t identify himself. “Hi, Duncan, this is Justine. Where are we going for dinner? I need to know what to wear.”

  “I like the Willard Room, but you had lunch there yesterday. So it’s Rive Gauche, unless you’d prefer somewhere else. I already made reservations, though.”

  She sucked in her breath. So he liked the most elegant places in town. She could handle that. “I see you like to go first class. Suits me.”

  She almost wished she hadn’t said it. Maybe a nanny wasn’t supposed to know about Rive Gauche. “I like first class,” he told her, “but in my estimation the hamburgers at White Castle beat a lot of fifty-dollar veal cutlets. And you don’t have to wear a tux in order to eat them.”

  “You’re wearing a tux, for Pete’s sake?”

  “Not unless you want me to.”

  She’d love to see him in a tuxedo, but not at the movies.

  “Heavens no. I’ll dress to your business suit. Okay?”

  “Gal after my precious heart.”

  Five o’clock arrived at last, and she inspected herself in the mirror: blue, silk dinner suit; hair down around her shoulders; in her ears the big silver hoops that Duncan loved; and Dior perfume. She liked the effect.

  He walked out of Tonya’s room just as she started down the stairs. “What’s a man to do when a woman is beautiful as well as elegant and clobbers him with a whiff of paradise? Have you declared war?”

  “Thanks. I think.”

  They walked down the stairs together, and, by the time they reached the bottom step, his long fingers twined around hers. “Let’s have a good time,” he sai
d. “We won’t talk about anything that isn’t pleasant. How’s that?”

  “Your wish is my command.”

  He narrowed his eyes in a suggestive look and poked his right cheek with the tip of his tongue. “Not if you know what I know. You’d be surprised what I wish for.”

  Thank God for dark skin, she thought, as hers burned as though afire. “I wouldn’t dare ask.”

  He parked around the corner from the Waverly theater in Georgetown at five-thirty, took her hand, and raced to the theater. As they sat down, the curtain rose for the beginning of the five-thirty-five show. He rested her head on his shoulder and gave her several pieces of chocolate.

  “I’m already too heavy,” she grumbled.

  “Not for me,” he whispered. “To me, you’re perfect. Every single, starved-to-death inch of you.”

  She couldn’t believe he’d said that. “If I ate more, I’d probably burst.” His arm around her shoulder and his hand gently clutching her arm made her feel precious. Desired. It may never happen again, she told herself, using that as an excuse to snuggle closer to him. She closed her eyes, dream-like, and let her thoughts of him run wild.

  “I thought that would wake you up,” Duncan teased, when she sat forward at the sound of Jack Nicholson’s voice.

  “I wasn’t asleep.”

  He hugged her closer. “I know. You were daydreaming.”

  “Shhhh,” came a voice behind them.

  He held her hand as they left the theater. “The restaurant’s only a few blocks away. Feel like walking?”

  She would have agreed if it had been a mile away. He had reserved a table near the window that faced an elegant courtyard where trees dressed with thousands of tiny white lights twinkled like earthly stars and cast a sensuous glow. Numerous crystal globes lent their radiance to the elegant room, and a sleepy, devil-may-care invitation shone from his eyes. They ordered, and while they waited for the meal, he reached across the table, took her fingers in his hand, and examined them. Was he looking for the print of a wedding band? The thought brought her out of her dream world, but not soon enough.