Learning to Trust

by Lynne Connolly

  “Oh yes, most definitely.” He dragged her close and took her mouth in a deep, possessive kiss, exploring her with his tongue briefly before he withdrew. “If you wait for me, I can dress and take you over there, then wait for you while you change.”

  Wow, really possessive. But she liked the idea. “How long will it take you to get ready?”

  He flung back the covers. “Shower, shave, tux, bow tie—half an hour, tops.”

  In fact it took him twenty minutes. He stood before her, immaculate, as if he’d spent hours getting ready. She envied him. “It must be bliss, knowing what you’re going to wear, not having to put on makeup and do your hair.”

  He laughed. “You think so?”

  She’d only dressed. She’d shower at home, where she could do her legs and armpits and use the body lotion she preferred. If she’d shared his shower, they’d have taken a lot longer than twenty minutes, and they were short on time. Next to him, she looked like the ragamuffin she’d been until recently.

  “Sure. It’ll take me about an hour to get ready. And I’m not sure what to wear. I’ll decide when I get there. Then I have to accessorize and do my hair. All that. Mom will have spent a couple of hours at the spa.”

  “You could have done that.”

  “I didn’t remember the affair until I woke up just now.” She laughed. “But since I came back, it hasn’t really appealed to me. I have better things to do.” She drew a finger down his starched shirtfront.

  He caught her hand, kissed the tips of her fingers. “You want to go to this benefit, or not?”

  “I guess.” Though she wasn’t as sure as she had been.

  It took a little longer to get around the park to the Dakota, but Lina still had plenty of time to shower and get ready.

  Her mother did a double take when she saw who was with her, but sent Jon into the lounge and furnished him with a drink. Jon took a sip and put the glass aside, Lina noticed before she left the room to enter her own. Probably too strong. Her mother’s idea of a dry martini was to frighten the gin with the vermouth, rather than allow them to get into contact with each other.

  Entering the lounge an hour later, Lina smiled to see him in deep conversation with Gary. They made a handsome pair. Gary’s slightly geeky look worked well with Jon’s tougher, harder appearance, and both men filled out a tux well.

  When they stood, their impeccable manners coming to the fore, she noticed that Jon was a shade taller than Gary, but there wasn’t much in it. But Jon’s shoulders were broader, his stance more erect and although both men gave her warm, admiring perusals, Jon’s held more heat. He warmed her from the inside out.

  She wanted him again, already. She’d never enjoyed sex a whole lot before. Compelled into it from the age of sixteen, then finding Byron, who’d taught her the value of laughter and playfulness, and now Jon. For the first time she realized she didn’t know anything about love, not really. She’d never known love before. Never known what making love really meant, and the difference between it and fucking. Now she did.

  She went to his side and laid her hand on his arm. He grinned down at her. “You want compliments? You look completely and utterly gorgeous. That shade of red is perfect on you.”

  She knew that. She’d had her seasonal colors done years ago. Not that she told him that. She’d rather bask in his compliments. She’d chosen her favorite red silk, a gown that covered her from neck to ankles, skimming her body so that when she moved, a hint of her curves molded the fabric. When she walked, she created a lot of hints. A simple gold chain around her neck, another around her wrist and discreet ruby studs completed the look. Her shoes were high Laboutins, red all over, right down to the signature red sole. She’d swept her hair up in a twisted knot, fastening it with a gold clip, all she’d had time for.

  Just one of the pieces she wore would have kept her for a month in Naples. Would have paid for the books for her college course. She wanted to do that again, only here. She’d already started making inquiries. If she was quick, she could get into somewhere soon. Maybe they’d give her credit for what she’d done already.

  Her mother appeared next, resplendent in purple, but she frowned when she saw Jon. “I thought Gary would escort you.”

  Gary lifted a brow. “We can both escort her.” He pushed his gold-rimmed spectacles up his nose. “Or I can drift away and see if I can’t find someone of my own to escort.” His leer didn’t look quite right, but it was a good effort.

  Tension arced between Gary and Jon. “We’ll see you there,” Jon said. “I brought my car. I live on that side of the park, so I’ll leave it there and walk home afterward. Or get a cab.” He glanced down at her. “Ready?”

  Charity benefits had never been such fun. Lina enjoyed the speeches for once, with Jon’s hand warming her thigh. She thought of changing the game, daring him to go further, but decided she wouldn’t do that just yet. One day. The fact that she could imagine a future with him said a lot about the way her thinking had changed. College, Jon—the future was really shaping up.

  Some people showed mild surprise at seeing Jon at their table, and his mother, also present, didn’t offer to cross the room to speak to them, but nothing daunted, Jon took her across to Mrs. Brantley when the meal and speeches had ended.

  Lina hadn’t any idea what he intended to do until too late, when Mrs. Brantley had seen them and watched their approach. Her escort, a distinguished older man she didn’t recognize, got to his feet. Feeling strangely shy, Lina smiled and nodded when introduced to him. She recognized the name as a member of New York’s banking community, and thought how glad her stepfather would be to meet him. Not for the first time she understood how different their worlds were in reality. Wealthy, living within a mile of each other, but rarely meeting. New York was indeed a series of separate villages, but not necessarily geographical ones. Jon was sponsoring her into crossing the divide.

  Channing Brantley gave her a frosty smile, her blue eyes assessing. But not, Lina realized sometime during the conventional exchange of pleasantries, hostile. Merely cool. Before she had taken Mrs. Brantley’s reserve as wholly antagonistic. Maybe she’d been wrong.

  With a smooth technique Lina could only envy, Channing sent the men away, Jon to find her a drink, and her escort to ensure the car would be available when she wanted it. Neither errand was necessary. But they wouldn’t come back until Channing let them. “I wish I could do that.”

  “What?”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. You control everything, everyone around you.”

  “No, I don’t. I merely make things comfortable.”

  By now the band had begun to play and people were leaving the tables for the dance floor. Lina and Channing could converse without anyone hearing them. And if Channing talked to her, it would make her reentry into New York society so much easier.

  She’d been aware of the reserve many people had for her, even moving away when she approached. With the approval of one of the queens of society, that reticence would melt away as if it had never existed. And it would show she was forgiven for leading her son astray. She couldn’t blame them, not after what she’d done, and she’d prepared herself for a long siege, or failure. She’d told herself she didn’t care, but however much she tried to harden her attitude, it still hurt when people turned their backs on her. Now she wanted to fit in for Jon. Society accepting her would make things easier for him.

  Channing probably rarely noticed, just expected, and she was rarely disappointed in her expectations.

  “I’m sorry about Byron,” Lina said, more to get it over with than anything else. If old money society did anything well, it was refusing to notice things that didn’t fit in with its world. But she wouldn’t do that. After all, Channing had loved Byron, spoiled him.

  “So am I.” Channing curled elegant fingers around the stem of her wineglass, but she didn’t pick it up. She rotated the nearly empty vessel on the crisp white tablecloth, watching the pale liquid churn. “But he had i
t in him.”

  “You knew?” She really had to stop blurting things out.

  Those perceptive eyes turned to her now. Channing met her gaze frankly. “Yes, of course. He was a sensitive boy. I thought his art might be the making of him, but the experts I consulted said he was adequate, no more.” Her mouth curled disdainfully. “However, if someone can sell a slovenly bedroom for millions of dollars, I thought he might find a niche. Byron needed something to steady him. Something to believe in. Did you know that when he was a child he considered becoming a priest?”

  That evoked a smile. “Yes, he told me. He said it was childhood rebellion.”

  “Partly. But the life appealed to him, too. He studied the Bible, looked into becoming an Episcopalian minister. But it passed, and he found something else. He was a clever boy with no focus. Jonathan always knew where he was headed. He needed little help.”

  That might be why she concentrated on Byron rather than Jon. “He found heroin.”

  “I know. I hoped it was another phase, that it would pass like all the others. I looked everywhere for him when you left. For you both. But you hid well.”

  “Not really. We just stayed in places you wouldn’t think to look.”

  She shuddered. “I don’t want to imagine.”

  Lina forced a smile. “They weren’t that bad.”

  Channing laid a slim, tastefully jewel-bedecked hand over hers. “Nice try. I’m under no illusions about Byron. Not anymore.” She withdrew her hand and picked up what remained of her drink.

  A thought struck Lina and before she’d properly thought it through, she asked, “Did you send someone to find us?”

  “Many someones. They never found anything.”

  But someone had. Someone had found them and sent Byron to find her. Then murdered Byron. Unless they wanted Byron, and he fled to her, only for them to catch up with him. So frustrating not knowing. She’d be content to let things be, had it not been for Franco’s revelation about the bomb. Nothing to do with the Colleghi. She believed him, believed them. Maybe they should contact the Colleghi to discover who had taken their name in vain, used them as a smoke screen. Lina had no doubt that the Colleghi had a long reach, and could get to more murky corners than she and Jon ever could. But getting into bed with them would imply a link, and might give them ideas.

  No, better not. Shadowy illegal organizations were best avoided.

  Channing glanced away, and without looking Lina guessed Jon was coming back. Despite her public air of cool, Channing Brantley definitely adored her son. A change in her expression, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners just the tiniest bit, told Lina so. She wondered if she betrayed herself like that. Maybe so. She could only hope that Jon didn’t notice, because she wasn’t at all sure that their affair would lead to what she wanted.

  She pushed the notion away. Not here, not now, and she didn’t turn around. But Channing must have seen something in her face, because she said, “If you hurt my son as much as you’re capable of doing, I will never forgive you. Take care of him.”

  It was as if the older woman was passing responsibility to her. So she didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I promise. But I don’t know, I don’t think…”

  “Don’t be disingenuous. You must know he’s wanted you for years.”

  She blinked and her mouth dropped open before she closed it with a snap. “Pardon me?”

  Channing raised a brow but didn’t say anything except a sweet, “Have you come to take my charming companion away?”

  It was the kind of comment Lina had never known how to deal with in the past. This time she managed a gentle smile.

  Jon added weight to the back of her chair when he leaned on it. “I’m afraid so. I came to claim a dance. But I’ll be back, Mother, so prepare yourself.”

  Lina wasn’t sure what he meant until Jon got her on the dance floor. The band played a quickstep, and Jon seemed to want to do a waltz. He was too heavy for her to control and he wouldn’t let her guide him—consequently they collided with one couple, who tutted until they saw who it was, then they tossed a couple of good-natured jokes their way.

  Lina persuaded him to settle into a kind of gentle shuffle. Much safer. He nuzzled her hair and chuckled, the low sound intimate. “You didn’t know about my lack of rhythm on the dance floor? I can manage a waltz, but not much else.”

  “No, I didn’t know.”

  “Has it made you change your mind?”

  “About what?”

  “About me.”

  “Yes.” When she heard his sharp intake of breath, she knew her tease had caught him out. “It means we’re not going to try the quickstep again anytime soon.” She nuzzled him back and took the opportunity to push her stomach against him. Even under his clothes she felt his cock stir and she chuckled low. “Or indulge in dance sex.”

  He drew back a little and stared down at her face, a puzzled frown on his brow. “Dance sex? Is there such a thing?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised to hear it. Where sex is concerned it seems that any variation gets a horde of followers. But if there is, we’re not doing it. Not if I want to keep my toes.”

  “Such a fickle woman.” He drew her close again.

  Once they reached the edge of the dance floor she guided him off just as the number finished. “Go dance with your mother. She’ll have braced herself by now.”

  “Will you be okay?”

  She gave him a wry smile. “Better than your mother, I suspect. I’ll go to the bar and get a drink. Can I get you anything?”

  He shook his head. “I’ll catch up with you.”

  She headed for the bar, but Ritchie met her on the way and took her back to their table. He bought them drinks. Sometimes she liked old-fashioned manners. This time she’d have preferred to be alone to enjoy the spectacle of Channing missing her son’s heavy feet, but she wasn’t allowed that delight. And soon she forgot all about Channing Brantley and her son.

  Jon’s mother decided to go back to her seat for a rest after their dance. He couldn’t blame her, but at least he’d done better than he had with Lina. Since he’d proved himself more than adept at sports at school, showing—or so his football coach claimed—a natural sense of timing, he had no idea why he’d never quite managed to master dancing. In his late teens and early twenties, he’d gained a reputation. Girls preferred to miss dances with him, but since that had usually meant a visit to the bar or somewhere more intimate, he hadn’t complained, and responded to the inevitable teasing with good humor.

  Now he wished he could at least escort Lina around the floor without missing his step. He’d narrowly missed her feet a couple of times. Those dainty feet. Even thinking about them made him want to strip her bare and kiss her all over, starting at her delectable toes. He’d never bothered with women’s feet before, but every inch of Lina fascinated him.

  After escorting his mother to a different table—she’d taken exception to something her escort had said, and declared it would do him good to find she’d left it—Jon returned to the bar, eager to grab Lina and take her home to begin on his plan. But as he entered, he heard a high-pitched giggle, one he hadn’t heard for a while. Five years. When his eyes had adjusted from the bright lights outside to the dimness of the ballroom, he saw Lina.

  She teetered on her heels, and Gary, standing too close to her for his liking, snaked an arm around her waist to steady her. Ritchie had his arm around his wife and Jon strode over as he said, “Isn’t this comfortable? Family together. We should do this more often, make it a foursome.” His jovial expression hardened when he saw Jon. “I thought you’d gone.”

  “No.” He didn’t feel like explaining anything, especially when he saw Lina’s face. She’d looked like that most days—or rather, nights. That blurred, unfocused expression in her eyes, the slight smile, bewildered but sexy and the way she wasn’t quite sure what her extremities were doing. She was in constant danger of tripping over her own feet, or trapping her fingers in a door. He’d se
en her do that once. She’d hardly noticed.

  His heart sank. After all they’d done and been to each other, how could she do this? Hard on disappointment and sheer frustration, fury came. “How long has she been like this?”

  She gave him a muzzy smile. “Darling! I missed you!”

  He gave her a cold stare. “Obviously.”

  Jon turned his attention to Ritchie Farina, who shrugged apologetically. “She’s seen a few old friends tonight.”

  After all her protestations and promises, she’d given up so easily? Tight-lipped, he caught her when she fell against him, then handed her off to Gary. They deserved each other as far as he was concerned.

  He turned on his heel and strode away, sorrow and fury mingled in his mind. He crossed the ballroom toward his mother, who sat watching the little scene. Before he reached her, Alice approached him, smiling, her hands outstretched. “Jon, I haven’t spoken with you all evening.”

  “Hello, Alice.” Had she been waiting for the opportunity? “Give me a moment, would you?”

  He’d reached his mother and sat by her side before another thought jolted him. Had Alice been instrumental in giving Lina drugs? Not that it mattered. If she succumbed that easily then he couldn’t trust her. Even after what she’d told him, he would not go further with her. Couldn’t bear the thought of dragging her away from parties drugged up. And watching her decline into incomprehension and scarecrow celebrity. No, he couldn’t do that. Red misted his thoughts, seeped into his mind. Betrayal hurt.

  “You’re just abandoning her?”

  His mother’s quiet words startled him and he turned to face her, tearing his gaze away from the woman who’d stolen his heart. He’d have to work hard to block her out, no doubt about that. “What else can I do?”

  Channing’s mouth turned up at one corner in a derisory sneer. “You’d abandon her to the wolves?”