by Roz Denny
Through the narrow crack in the stall door, Sarah watched the pregnant blonde whisk a compact from her beaded purse and in angry strokes begin to powder her nose. She stifled a sudden urge to laugh. Instead, she climbed up on the seat of the commode to get a look at Gabe's mother. Because it made her dizzy, Sarah slid back down as the older woman spoke.
"Wade should know better than to push Gabe," Mrs. Parker said calmly. "Not even his father, who's the most stubborn man I know, can best him in a test of wills. I learned that when Gabriel was young."
Mariel sniffed. "Wade said this Michaels woman has a child. The boy is one of Gabe's charity cases. Oh, I just know he'll ruin us all if he persists in this nonsense, Mother Parker."
"I rather think the Parkers have withstood worse," Gabe's mother said dryly. "But that may explain Gabe's stubbornness. He loves children. You've seen the way he indulges your two. He really needs one of his own."
"Yes. Wade and I thought when Sheena got back from France…"
Mariel's voice trailed off and Sarah strained to hear.
The older woman's voice was sharp. "Myself, I think Sheena is too… Well, she's so…"
"Spoiled?" Mariel suggested.
"I was going to say immature," Gabe's mother returned. "If you're finished, Mariel, I suggest we go. Tell Wade to relax. I'll speak with Gabe later."
Through a kind of thick fog, Sarah registered their leaving. She let a few minutes pass before she felt steady enough to seek out her friends. She probably did need food. After all, she'd skipped lunch.
Sarah wished she could tell Mrs. Parker what such a talk with Gabe would do to Mike. But a woman of that ilk wouldn't care. In her world, charities came and charities went. Hadn't she known all along this would happen?
Sarah picked her way carefully between the tables. She wouldn't have gone back at all if she'd had any idea how close Mitzi and Sam were to the head table. Blindly Sarah took the chair Mitzi patted.
"Are you better?" Worried eyes scanned her.
"Yes," Sarah lied. But she made the mistake of lifting her lashes as she unfolded her napkin and caught Gabe frowning at her. Sheena sat on his right, Layman to his left. Sarah lowered her gaze too fast and felt the room fade. She didn't know what was wrong, unless it was the heat. Did no one else notice how stifling it was in here?
The elder Maxwell heaved his bulk from his chair, forcing Sarah to look up again. Gabe's gaze bore through her this time. She feigned interest in their host. When Layman gave a sharp rap on his crystal water glass with a knife, Sarah thought the top of her head would fly off.
He hoisted a champagne flute and instantly all talk died. Like magic, similar glasses appeared in front of each guest. A host of waiters moved quickly to fill them.
Sarah couldn't seem to take her eyes from Layman's glass. Light from the chandelier set the pale gold liquid ablaze. A chill pranced up her spine. Why did champagne suddenly seem a bad omen?
"My friends," began Maxwell in a rumbling voice, "it pleases me to see so many celebrating my daughter's coming of age. Actually, our reason for this gathering is two-fold. My old friend Dave Parker and I have a very special announcement to make tonight."
Were they announcing an engagement? Sarah didn't think she could bear it. Stricken, her eyes sought Gabe. He was making gestures that she couldn't figure out. Did he want her to meet him in the lobby? Was that it? She smothered a giggle as he made faces, punctuated with wild signals. My, but he was being naughty! No wonder he and Mike got on so well. She snickered again.
Mitzi shot her a dark look.
Sarah covered her mouth and pretended interest in hotels.
"After months of negotiations," Maxwell was saying, "I'm pleased to announce that Dave and I have launched a joint venture. Max-Park. A resort complex on Kauai. There's a mock-up in the lobby. We're aiming for the most luxurious and most profitable resort in the islands. Bigger even than Dave's complex on Maui." Applause drowned his words.
"But that's not all," he continued when the clapping died. "It's no secret how I've envied Dave for having two sons to carry on his business." Layman beamed. "Now that Sheena's quit gallivanting around France, she's agreed to join the firm. What pleases me more—Dave just promised that Gabe will teach her the ropes."
Again the ripple of sound. Layman Maxwell touched his glass to Sheena's, then pulled an astonished Gabe to his feet as he bade everyone drink.
Sarah gripped the table. She missed Gabe's thunderous scowl.
"One other thing before we eat…" Layman waited for silence. "This may be somewhat premature, but if Dave and I have any influence, Gabriel's student may graduate into something permanent—if you get my drift."
From the laughter, it was clear everyone did. Sarah closed her eyes. When she opened them, she discovered that the waiter had placed a large dish of caviar directly in front of her. Abruptly she jumped up and ran from the room. All around her, people were surging to their feet, cheering.
Without knowing how she got there, Sarah found herself in the powder room again running cold water over her wrists. Blessedly the heavy door blocked off the revelry. She felt so terrible she didn't even look up when the door flew open and bounced against the wall.
"Sarah, what in hell is wrong with you?" Gabe grabbed up a towel, wet it and sponged her clammy forehead.
She backed away. "You can't come in here," she stammered. "This is the ladies' room."
"The hell I can't. How long have you been like this? Are you sick?"
It would help if he stood still. She placed a staying hand on his chest. There was something she had to say so he wouldn't mistake her hasty exit. "Truly, truly, I wish you and Sheena a long and happy future." Pleased to have completed that speech, Sarah raised her head high and marched out.
Gabe digested Sarah's words, including the way they ran together. "What have you been drinking?" he asked suspiciously, following her.
"I beg your pardon! Not that it's your business, but I had a very nice fruit punch. Now, why don't you make yourself useful? Call me a cab."
He threw back his head and laughed. "You're a cab." Then taking great care, Gabe guided her through the maze of flowers into the lobby.
"Bad joke." Sarah tripped on the carpet and would have fallen if not for his arm.
"Do you have a wrap?" he asked, pausing near the cloak room. When she indicated the shawl hanging over her arm, he moved them past the curious checker. "Tell me how many mai tais you had."
"Not one. I do not imbibe," she said primly, although even to her own ears, her words seemed to miss letters like some of Mike's. Curious.
"Of course you don't." Gabe grinned. "All the same, you won't mind if I run you home?"
Sarah blinked owlishly at him and Gabe realized he'd spoken too fast. He dug in his pocket for keys until he remembered he'd let the valet park his car. Damn, but this woman could addle his brain. Spotting a bellman he knew, he signaled. "Could you have my car brought around?"
"Leaving so soon, sir?" The fellow seemed surprised.
Gabe wrapped his arm more tightly around Sarah's waist. "Yes, Maurice. Mrs. Michaels has had too much, er, punch," he finished lamely.
The bellman's faded blue eyes twinkled. "I imagine that would be planter's punch, sir. I've heard it's deadly. I'll see to your car."
"Not planter's punch," she corrected. She lifted her hand to straighten Gabe's bow tie but, instead, knocked it askew. "Something pretty. Red." Sarah frowned, trying to remember. "Scarlett. Scarlett something."
"Scarlett O'Hara?" Gabe studied her bright nod. "Definitely pretty and red, my innocent," he muttered. "Let's hope you still think that in the morning." Her smile came too easily. Yes, she'd probably regret it tomorrow, but perhaps tonight it wouldn't be so bad for her to unwind just a little. Again Gabe wondered about Sarah's upbringing—and marriage. There seemed so many things she hadn't experienced.
Outside, a young valet held the passenger door open as Gabe helped Sarah into the low-slung automobile. She shut her shawl i
n the door and found the process of retrieving it hilarious.
Gabe pulled out a money clip and passed a twenty to the valet. He peeled off another and handed it to the hovering bellman. "The lady came with Harvey Denton. Could you ask around and find him? Whatever you do, though, don't mention the fruit punch."
"Roger. Would you like a paper bag, sir?"
Gabe shook his head. "Thanks, but I don't think she's had that many."
Sarah waved a fist full of cassettes under his nose as he slid beneath the wheel. "Classical, Parker? You amaze me. I had you pegged as a rock-and-roll man." That struck her as so funny she couldn't seem to get the cassette she'd selected into the slot.
Gabe drove around the loop and stopped to help her. He winced as the full-blown brass of Dvorak blasted out.
Sarah beamed broadly, lowered the window and sank back, clearly pleased with herself.
Gabe rolled his eyes and discreetly turned the music down. He wondered how on earth he was going to explain Sarah's condition to a sitter. And Mike. What if Mike was still up? That young man missed nothing.
He sighed. But then as Sarah leaned over and pillowed her head on his shoulder all doubt vanished. After all, a man who had just told two of the island's most prominent hoteliers to go take a flying leap should certainly be able to come up with something.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The music escalated. Not relishing the thought of being stopped by the police, Gabe turned the volume still lower.
Sarah stirred on his shoulder. Her hair tickled his cheek. He glanced down into her gold-flecked eyes and pictured the two of them riding this way twenty years from now.
She yawned, covered her mouth with one hand and apologized. "I'm sorry. I can't imagine why I'm so sleepy." Her lashes slowly drifted over her eyes again.
Hearing her s's tangle, Gabe smiled. "Sarah, honey, when did you eat last?" he asked gently.
She sat up, eyes clouding. "Dinner, I guess. Yesterday. Why?"
Shaking his head, Gabe stroked his jaw. "No wonder the Scarletts hit you like a ton of bricks."
Sarah leaned forward and popped out the Dvorak tape and switched it for a more mellow piece by Ravel. Her brows knit. "Shouldn't you be off building skyscrapers or something?"
Gabe took a corner too fast. The Porsche swayed.
"Don't," she begged, placing both hands to her temples.
"Don't what?" His mind had already jumped ahead to how he'd handle things once he got her home.
"Don't jerk the car. I don't feel so well."
A wry grin played at the corners of his mouth. "You have my sympathy, sweetheart. I've been bombed a few times myself."
"Bombed?" Her eyelids flickered.
"Tipsy," he said, tugging lightly on an escaped curl. "As in Scarlett O'Haras, love. As in the demon rum. Or in this case, Southern Comfort."
"N…n…no." She shook her head.
"Yep. 'Fraid so." He took a wide swing into her drive, then braked to a stop. "Good news. We're home."
He came around to help her out. But she clung to the seat belt with both hands.
"No. No. My knees won't work."
Patiently he loosened her fingers from the belt. His teeth flashed white in the moonlight. "Are you able to walk, or shall I carry you?"
"Why couldn't I walk?" she demanded as she got out of the car. Even as the words left her lips, she tripped and nearly fell on her face.
Gabe caught her. "Time to get serious, Sarah. Who's your sitter? We need to make up a story. Deal?"
As the cooler night air hit her, Sarah started to laugh.
Gabe steered her toward the front steps, but she released his cummerbund and stole his tie, teasing all the while. "Too stuffy," she scolded, wagging an unsteady finger under his nose. "Harvey's stuffy. Not Gabriel." She leaned into his chest, looked into his face and grinned seductively. He was having trouble being serious himself. Maybe because he liked the way she said his name. And the way her eyes sparkled in the moonlight.
She popped the top two studs on his shirt and kicked out of her strappy shoes. Dangling them on one finger, she tickled him with his tie.
Gabe had never seen her in such a playful mood, and he had little resistance. Catching her around the waist, he kissed her soundly on the lips, and then it was his turn to chuckle as she looked astounded.
But his victory was short-lived. She tossed everything she held over her shoulder and threaded her fingers through his hair. "Dance with me," she insisted.
As she hummed off-key, he waltzed her a few steps across the soft grass. Her rich laughter triggered a sudden tight-ness in his stomach. All Gabe knew was that he wanted to hear her laugh like this more often. Pulling her close, he vowed she would. His lips sought hers, no longer teasing.
The front door opened, spilling light across the lawn. A hesitant voice called into the darkness, "Who's there? Mrs. Michaels? Is that you?" The porch light flared.
Sarah jerked away at the sound. "Jenny Sue?" Light struck her in the eyes. She buried her head in Gabe's shoulder.
Executing a fancy dip, he snatched up the items Sarah had dropped. The cummerbund and tie he stuffed into a jacket pocket. He handed her the shoes.
"Mrs. Michaels isn't feeling well. Flu, maybe. I'm Gabe Parker… a friend. I drove her home."
"Oh, hey," the girl said, opening the door wider. "I feel like I know you, Mr. Parker. Mike talked about nothing else." She frowned. "You know, he wasn't himself this evening. Complained about his stomach. He even went to bed early. I guess he has the flu, too."
Gabe chewed at the inside of his mouth and thought about that for a moment. Humming again, Sarah hadn't heard. Now she nipped playfully at Gabe's ear, then skipped nimbly out of his reach. Flinging her arms wide, she pretended to swoop and soar like a bird.
As she circled behind him, Gabe grabbed for her. "What in blue blazes are you doing?" he hissed. "I told that girl you're sick."
"I'm a bird. I'm a plane. I'm Wonder Woman," Sarah chortled, tweaking his shirt collar, enjoying his obvious distress.
"Have a heart, Sarah," he breathed. "Come on. Make like you're Wonder Woman with the flu."
"Is she all right?" Jenny Sue called.
"What happened to sleepy?" he murmured near Sarah's ear. More loudly, he answered the sitter, "Do you think maybe you could turn back her bed?"
"Sure," Jenny Sue agreed, quickly withdrawing.
Gabe reeled Sarah in slowly, unsure what she'd do next. He noticed then that she looked pale. He suggested she lean on him, and they made it into the house as the baby-sitter reappeared.
Gabe whisked Sarah down the hall past Jenny Sue. He all but shoved her into her bedroom and said in an undertone, "Stay put. Please!"
"Should I call my mom?" the teenager asked uncertainly.
"She'll be fine." Gabe pulled out his wallet. "How much does she owe you? I'll take care of it and see you home. I'll square with her later." Just now, he couldn't get Sarah's sitter out of there soon enough.
"It's not much." The girl began to gather her school books. "I know she planned to be later. I'm sorry her evening was ruined." She shrugged. "Mrs. Michaels doesn't go out often, and I've never seen her look so great."
The bills Gabe had dug out quivered as he held them. "Yes," he agreed, remembering. "She looked very beautiful." Better, though, was hearing her laugh, he realized as he handed over the money.
"This is too much," Jenny Sue protested. "It's just past midnight."
"If I know that scamp Mike, you earned it. Come on. I'll see you home."
"You don't need to. I only live two doors down."
"All the same, it's dark. I'd want someone to see you inside if you were my daughter." Something else had just hit Gabe—he'd always thought someday he'd have a houseful of boys. Now his subconscious added a girl, a miniature version of Sarah. He shook his head, but the idea remained.
The sitter grinned and headed for the door Gabe had left standing ajar. "Parents," she said. "You're all alike. Over-protective."
"Interesting observation, but I'm not a parent—yet." It occurred to him that he didn't know if Sarah even wanted more children. Quietly he closed the door. Much less sure of the rosy future he'd always taken for granted, he followed the girl.
There was a lot he didn't know about Sarah, but twice as much she didn't know about him. Tomorrow they'd start swapping life stories—and other things, like a few more of those steamy kisses.
"This is it." Jenny Sue pointed out a neat white single-story structure, with a porch light shining. "You don't have to come to the door. My mom'll be up." She pulled a wry face. "She always is."
"Would you rather have parents who didn't care?" Gabe's father, gone on business so much, loomed in his mind. His mother, more like Sarah, ran a tight ship. Grandpa Parker had been his real anchor.
"You're just as nice as Mike said," Jenny Sue blurted. "Say, are you sure Mrs. Michaels will be okay there by herself?"
"I plan on sticking around for a bit." Gabe hesitated. "So you squelch neighborhood rumors if my car is there into the wee hours, okay?"
"My mom will. She hates gossip," Jenny Sue said. '"Bye." Waving, she disappeared inside.
What a nice child, Gabe thought, jogging back to Sarah's. He'd make it a point to meet her parents sometime and tell them. Lately he'd come to see that being a parent wasn't always as straightforward as it might seem. Being a single parent was downright difficult. Sarah was doing a better job than she gave herself credit for.
Inside Sarah's home again, Gabe stripped off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Tomorrow maybe he'd take Sarah and Mike to meet his mother. He doubted if they'd find his dad at home. Just now he needed to get some food into her. However, first he'd better let her know he was back.
He tapped on the bedroom door. "Sarah," he called softly. Nothing. Not so much as a murmur. Waiting briefly, Gabe pushed the door open a crack. She lay curled on the bed, sound asleep, her head pillowed in the crook of one arm. Jade satin shimmered around her beneath the bright overhead light. Tender feelings welled up and tripped over themselves on the way to Gabe's heart. Dropping down beside her, he put a hand on her arm. "Sarah," he said, quietly, "you need to get up and out of that dress."