When Dolores buzzed her at 8:58, she was prepared for more of the same. At least he was on time.
“Mr. Youngson is here,” Dolores said breathlessly into the intercom.
I hope she doesn’t have a heart attack, Jennifer thought, sighing to herself. I need her for the rest of the day. “Send him in,” she said.
The door opened, Bradley Youngson entered, and Jennifer felt her customary composure desert her.
He was tall and broad shouldered, but hadn’t the massive, hulking physique she had come to expect in football players. He appeared to be of average weight for his height, but his narrow waist and hips gave him a deceptive appearance of slimness. His body was perfectly proportioned, elegant, with the pleasing symmetry of Grecian art.
Jennifer realized that she was staring and quickly dropped her eyes.
But he had caught her puzzled examination of him. “What’s the matter, Ms. Gardiner?” he asked in a low, resonant voice. “Am I not what you expected?”
“I thought you would be…heavier,” she blurted, and then closed her mouth, amazed at her loss of composure. What on earth was wrong with her? This was just another Saturday hero, another side of prime beef paid to entertain the masses with the bashing of heads. A modem gladiator in a twentieth century arena, a member of an expensive sideshow, no more. She sat up straighter and regarded him levelly, taking a breath.
“I’m a pass receiver, Ms. Gardiner,” he said with a trace of sarcasm. “I run around a lot.”
She could believe that he received a lot of passes. Also that he ran around a lot.
His large, dark eyes studied her with faintly amused detachment. “You must be accustomed to dealing with linemen. They usually resemble Mack trucks.”
He remained standing in front of her desk. Dolores was right Sexy as hell. It wasn’t so much his looks, though he was certainly handsome in a craggy, strong-featured way, but more a presence, a physical confidence and awareness that attracted like a magnet Jennifer felt the pull and consciously decided to resist it.
Their eyes locked. His dusky skin had been made even browner by the sun of a hundred football fields and had an underlying coppery tinge that bespoke his heritage. His brows and lashes were jet black, like his hair, which was beautiful, thick and straight and as glossy as a thoroughbred’s coat He stood easily, watching her, his lips slightly parted to reveal a glimpse of very white teeth.
“Please be seated, Mr. Youngson,” she said stiffly.
“Call me Lee,” he said, dropping gracefully into the chair across from her, stretching his long legs in front of him. He was wearing tight jeans with moccasins and a yellow V-necked sweater that clung to the muscles in his arms and shoulders and revealed the clean, supple line of his throat. He knows how to pick his colors, Jennifer thought The bright material of his sweater was in striking contrast to his ebony eyes and hair.
Jennifer noticed that he was looking her over, too, and wondered what he thought of her. But his black gaze revealed nothing.
There was a knock at the door. Dolores opened it, simpering at Youngson.
“I just wondered if Mr. Youngson would like some coffee,” she said kittenishly.
His indulgent smile suggested that Youngson was used to such fawning attention. He nodded. “Black No sugar.”
Dolores all but purred as she went out. Jennifer made a silent resolve to kill her as soon as Youngson left.
“Shall we begin?” she said pointedly to Youngson.
He raised his brows. “Please.”
Jennifer handed him his copy of the typed sheets. He followed as she read the list of public appearances he was to make and explained the details involved. She took care to use the simplest language and went over each point twice.
She finished the first page. “Is there anything you would like me to explain again?” she said.
“It is not necessary to speak in words of one syllable, Ms. Gardiner,” he answered quietly. “I understand.”
Somewhat disconcerted, she went on. When they got to a paragraph written in legal jargon, she paused to interpret it.
He gazed at her directly across the cream bond pages in his hand. “I said I get the picture, ma’am,” he said, a little more sharply.
Jennifer felt a twinge of anger. He had no right to be miffed. She was only doing her job.
“I apologize if my explanations are boring you, Mr. Youngson,” she said sweetly. “I have found in the past that clearly establishing the facts saves time and effort later. While many of our clients are college graduates, they frequently went to school on athletic scholarships and...”
His jaw tightened and he pitched the papers back onto her desk “Lady” he said, interrupting her, “I resent your attitude. I’m not a dumb jock and I’m not a dumb Indian. Maybe I went to college on a football scholarship, but I went to Cornell, which is no kindergarten. I was premed, in case the football didn’t work out I had a 3.7 average in a biology major, so please don’t treat me like an idiot.”
Dolores chose this inopportune moment to reenter with Youngson’s drink Her smile vanished as she sensed the atmosphere of hostility. Bewildered, she set the cup down and quickly sidled out again.
Jennifer considered what to do. She felt that she had scored a point off him, but at the same time she was ashamed of herself. He was touchy and defensive under that gorgeous facade, and there was doubtless good reason to account for his feelings. Lord only knew what prejudices he had faced in the past. She knew that she had been condescending, and worse, it had not been entirely unintentional. His unexpected attractiveness had unnerved her, and in alarmed reaction she had struck back in the best way she knew: with the club of her intelligence.
“I’m sorry you think I was demeaning you,” she said softly. “Perhaps you’d like to read the rest on your own, and let me know if you have any questions.”
He relented and picked up the list again. She sat in silence as he scanned the lines. She noticed the length of his sooty lashes as his eyes moved down the sheets. He finished and handed the pages back to her. She waited.
The silence lengthened.
“Nothing to say, Ms. Gardiner?” he said, needling. “You were talkative enough before.”
“You seem to find everything I say irritating,” Jennifer said smoothly. “I’m trying not to annoy you.”
“Is that what it is?” he responded. “I find it annoying.”
Her eyes flashed to his face. It was serene, but there was a tiny hint of amusement in his eyes, a slight upward turn at the corners of his mouth. This was an overture. He would smile, if she would.
Jennifer smiled, but only slightly. He should know that she wasn’t bowled over by his charm.
He grinned back at her, and she felt the full force of his considerable allure. This one was different, all right Sharp as a scalpel and difficult to resist. She would have to be careful.
“They generally send someone along to make sure I’m a good boy on these little jaunts,” he said, gesturing to the list “Who is going to accompany me?”
“I am,” she said, meeting his gaze squarely.
He sighed and stood. “Well, in that case, I suggest we forget our slight misunderstanding and begin again.” He walked over to her and extended his hand. “Lee Youngson, how do you do?”
She took it His fingers were strong and warm. “Jennifer Gardiner. Hello.”
“Jennifer,” he repeated, trying it out “May I call you that?”
“Of course.”
“Well, Jennifer, I’m late for practice right now, so I’d better go. I guess I’ll be seeing you again.”
She nodded. “On the eighteenth, for the mall opening. I’ll contact you.”
“goodbye, then.” His smile was touched with irony. “It was nice…wrestling with you.”
He walked soundlessly to the door and left.
Wrestling, Jennifer thought. That was as good a term as any for what they’d been doing.
Working with Bradley Youngson was certainly
going to be interesting.
Chapter 2
It was a month before Jennifer saw Lee Youngson again. During that time she did her best to forget him, but to no avail. He was the darling of the newspapers, and as she was responsible for reviewing all his press releases, and even composing some of them, ignoring his existence was not possible. His performance in the practices and the preseason games was the subject of much discussion, and there was speculation about whether or not he was worth his astronomical salary. The general consensus seemed to be that he was. Jennifer found that difficult to believe. As far as she was concerned, in order to deserve what the management was paying him, he would have to cure lepers and walk on water.
One hot afternoon in mid-August Jennifer paused in the middle of dictating a batch of letters and retreated to the rest room for a few minutes of peace. There was so much to be done in preparation for the new season that the bathroom was virtually the only place where she could escape the constant demands on her attention. She drew the line when Dolores tried to follow her in with her note pad. Dolores retreated, grumbling, to her desk.
Jennifer surveyed herself in the full-length mirror and wished she were in Greenland. Or Oslo, Norway. Anyplace cool and quiet where they had never even heard of football. Every year the September zaniness got worse, and now it was beginning in July. Autumn had always been her favorite season, but since coming to the Freedom her thoughts of it were always mixed with visions of constantly ringing phones and a desk buried under piles of correspondence.
Jennifer brushed out her shoulder-length, honey blonde hair and reflected that she looked tired. There were shadows under her gray-blue eyes, and her fair skin had the drawn quality she associated with late nights reading contracts and publicity fillers. She didn’t notice that her tall, slim figure was flattered by the blue silk jersey dress she wore, and her legs were long and elegant in sheer hose and heeled pumps. She reapplied a light coral lipstick and tied the sash at her waist in a neater knot. She sprayed herself with a spritz of perfume from the tiny atomizer in her purse and felt better.
She emerged to find Lee Youngson lounging against the wall outside her office. She stopped, startled. Then she glanced at Dolores, who shrugged slightly and gave her a “your guess is as good as mine” look.
The minute Jennifer saw him she knew that she had not imagined the electricity of their first encounter. During the intervening time she had tried to tell herself that her memory had magnified it, but this fiction was exploded the instant he straightened and met her glance. She felt the warmth of his eyes on her like a palpable thing. Nothing had changed.
“Hi,” he said. “Got a minute?”
“Hello, Lee,” she responded, schooling herself to react casually. “Sure I do. Come on in.”
Jennifer turned back to Dolores, who was making faces at her over Lee’s shoulder. Jennifer threw her a threatening look and shut the door.
Lee stood uncertainly, watching her. He was wearing a loosely woven cream knit top with wheat cord jeans of a slightly darker shade. He looked so vibrant, brimming with health, that he made Jennifer feel like an extreme case of vitamin deficiency. Nobody could be as fit as he seemed.
“Have a seat,” she said, and he did. She noticed again his impeccable manners—he waited to be invited before he sat.
She glanced at him inquiringly.
He extracted a folded sheet of paper from his pocket “I received this in the mail this morning,” he said, rising to hand it to her.
It was the schedule for the mall opening on Saturday.
“And?” Jennifer said.
“There are a couple of things I’d like to change, if I can.”
“Such as?”
“I’d like to drive myself there rather than go in the limousine. I feel like King Farouk pulling up in one of those hearses. I know where the place is, I’ll be there on time.”
“That’s not the issue,” Jennifer replied. “You are escorted for insurance reasons, as I’m sure you know. On company time, we like to take charge of your safety. Did they allow you to drive yourself when you were with the Broncos?”
He looked uncomfortable. “No, but…”
“You’ll find that we here at the Freedom are just as cautious and solicitous of your safety as your previous employers,” Jennifer said firmly.
He held up a hand. “All right, all right, I give up. I’ll ride in the limo. Do you supply bulletproof vests, too?”
“Are you expecting an assassination attempt?” Jennifer countered.
They eyed each other, evenly matched, stalemated. The silence in the room lengthened.
Lee sighed. “Moving right along,” he said, “do I absolutely have to spout the party line about what a great place Philadelphia is, and how happy I am to be here, and how wonderful the people are? They’ve heard it all before, and that kind of speech can be phoned in.”
Jennifer regarded him levelly. “Let me put it this way. It wouldn’t be wise to say that you hate Philadelphia and find the people obnoxious.”
His eyes widened innocently. “Really? Too bad. That’s just what I had in mind.”
Jennifer felt the tug of war begin again.
“I think we can trust your judgment on it,” she said neutrally, wanting to end the interview as soon as possible. She was growing increasingly wary— exchanging banter with him was dangerous.
“Thank you so much,” he said, with exaggerated courtesy. “It’s heartening to know you have such confidence in me.”
“Is that all?” Jennifer said impatiently.
He stood. “That’s all. I’ll see you at nine-thirty on Saturday.”
Jennifer nodded, watching his retreating form as he left.
Dolores materialized in the doorway seconds after he passed through it. “What was that all about?” she hissed in the tone of a conspirator.
“Dolores, don’t you have work to do?” Jennifer asked pointedly.
“Aw, come on. Don’t be a spoilsport. What did he want?”
“He just had some questions about Saturday,” Jennifer said wearily. “Nothing earthshaking, I assure you.”
Dolores evaluated that. “Hmm. If you ask me, he wanted to see you again.”
“I’m not asking you,” Jennifer said. “And besides, he’ll see me on Saturday.”
“Along with several hundred other people,” Dolores said. “I think he wanted a cozy little tete-a-tete in your office.”
“It was hardly that. We seem to get on each other’s nerves. And if your theory is correct, why did he wait so long?”
“Ah-ha!” Dolores pounced. “Expecting him, were you? Disappointed that he didn’t show until now?”
Mercifully, at this point the phone rang. “Will you get that?” Jennifer said in icy tones and picked up a folder, pretending to examine it.
Dolores went back to her desk, leaving Jennifer to wonder if there was any truth in what she had said.
* * * *
On Saturday, the weather was stifling, so Jennifer wore a sleeveless, clinging sheath in air force blue that matched her eyes and piled her hair atop her head for coolness. She would be doing a lot of walking, so she selected shoes with a medium heel, and added a large canvas shoulder bag to hold her clipboard and other materials.
The day was overcast and humid, which made the heat seem worse. The driver arrived for her at 9:15, and she stared moodily out the window during the drive to Youngson’s condominium complex in Yardley.
The townhouses all looked the same, set decoratively amidst the exquisite plantings and Immaculately landscaped lawns. There was a security station at the main gate, and Jennifer identified herself to the guard. He called ahead to Lee, who okayed their entry. Lee was waiting for them outside when they arrived.
He was wearing a navy blazer with charcoal gray slacks and a club tie. Cochise as Young Republican, Jennifer thought to herself, admitting that he had chosen well: he looked neat, conservative, and very fashionable. Damn the man. Why did she always find him so
appealing?
He got into the rear seat beside her, his expression unreadable. “I hope I look okay,” he said.
Jennifer turned away. He had eyes; he had mirrors. He knew how he looked. If he was fishing for a compliment, he was going to be disappointed.
“That’s not for me to say,” she replied stiffly.
She saw him glance at her curiously, but he kept silent.
The drive to the mall was short, for which Jennifer was grateful. The approaches to it were already jammed with traffic.
She looked at Lee, who was craning his neck unhappily. “What are all these people doing here?” he muttered. “Why aren’t they home painting their garages, or something?”
Jennifer couldn’t help smiling. “For the guest of honor, you are wearing a remarkably unfestive expression.”
He hesitated a moment, and then said, “I don’t deserve such adulation. These little kids, they should be looking up to, I don’t know, Jonas Salk or Neil Armstrong or Sandra Day O’Connor. It makes me uncomfortable.”
Jennifer didn’t know what to say. He sounded sincere. She thought about it a moment, and then ventured, “But your manager books you for personal appearances, and you take money for doing them, don’t you?”
He turned on the seat to face her. “In the first place, I don’t have a manager, because I don’t want one. In the second place, I only do the appearances required by my contract, like this one, and the charity stuff. That’s all.”
Jennifer didn’t believe him. “Really?” The skepticism came through in her tone.
His lips twisted. “Really.”
“What about the product endorsements, the commercials?” Jennifer persisted, knowing that she was being rude, but unable to stop herself.
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