FANTA C

by Sandra Brown

  But since that didn't happen, she headed for the kitchen. "Excuse me. I need to get these roses in water."

  "Oh, Lizzie, you've got a problem."

  "Another one?"

  "A major one. The baby-sitter isn't coming."

  "What?"

  "I hate to have to tell you, but her little brother rode his bike over and said to tell you that she's got the flu."

  "Must be going around," Thad said out of the corner of his mouth. He was still chuckling over the tale the children had told and their mother's embarrassed reaction to it.

  Elizabeth wished he'd go home. Damn him! Why had he lived behind her all this time, but had chosen tonight of all nights to come calling with a bouquet of roses? While Lilah was here. When Adam was due to arrive any minute. She gnawed her lip in exasperation.

  "I'll call Mrs. Alder." She turned toward the kitchen again, but, as before, was brought up short by Lilah.

  "I already called her. She's sitting for someone else tonight."

  "Do I smell something burning?" Thad asked blandly.

  "The cookies!"

  Lilah, Megan, and Matt all shrieked the word at the same time and stampeded back into the kitchen, with Thad and Elizabeth bringing up the rear. Acrid smoke was billowing out of the oven door.

  "Lilah, how could you let this happen again?" Elizabeth wailed.

  "You know I can't cook."

  "Then why were you baking cookies?"

  "To keep the kids occupied so they'd stay out of your way while you were getting dressed for your big date."

  During this shouted exchange, Thad calmly removed the charred remains from the oven. "Big date?"

  Through the cloud of smoke, his inquiring gaze found Elizabeth. Defensively she stuck out her chin. She didn't owe him any explanations, no matter how accusing his expression.

  But the point was moot. There wasn't going to be a big date. "It's too late to start calling other babysitters," she said morosely. "I guess I can't go. Unless..." She looked at Lilah expectantly.

  "Sorry, Lizzie, but I can't."

  "Please, Lilah. I hate to impose on you twice in one day, but you know how important this evening is to me.

  "It's not that I won't. I really can't. One of my former patients is having a birthday party. I promised to be there. It'll break her heart if I renege."

  Elizabeth's shoulders slumped and she gave her sister a wan smile. For all Lilah's flamboyance, she was dedicated to her physical therapy patients. "By all means, you must go. Well, I guess that's—"

  "I'll stay with the kids."

  The words were softly spoken, but they had an impact on everyone in the kitchen. Lilah gave Thad an approving once-over. Elizabeth held his stare, her lips parting in surprise. The children rushed toward him, nearly knocking him down with their exuberance.

  "That'll be neat, Thad."

  "Can we give Baby a bath? Mom doesn't like for us to, 'cause it gets water all over the bathroom floor."

  "Will you play games with us?"

  "Can we stay up late?"

  "Do you know how to make pizza?"

  He responded to all their questions, but didn't take his eyes off Elizabeth.

  Lilah stepped in, assuming the role of diplomat for the first time in her life. No one had to spell out to her that her sister and Thad Randolph needed a moment or two alone. "Come on, kids. I've got to get to my birthday party. Help me carry those clothes from upstairs."

  "Are you gonna stay with us, Thad?" Megan asked hopefully.

  "Yeah, I'm staying."

  Matt and she whooped with glee before following their aunt Lilah from the room. Elizabeth and Thad continued to stare at each other. Finally she said, "Are you sure you don't mind, Thad?"

  His eyes told her that he minded a helluva lot. Not staying with the children. But the idea of her going out on a "big date" didn't sit well with him. However, his voice was controlled when he said, "I owe you a favor, don't I?"

  "I'll appreciate it very much."

  He nodded, looking like a man who had a tenuous hold on his temper. "Go on." He hitched his head toward the upstairs. "Finish combing your hair so you'll be ready when he gets here."

  "My hair is combed."

  His jaw went slack. "It's supposed to look like that?"

  The tangled curls shook with indignation. "It's got mousse and spritz on it."

  "What's moosensprits?"

  Before she could dress down his ignorance of hair fashion, the doorbell rang. "That'll be him." She spun around and shoved open the swinging door, wishing that Thad would have enough common courtesy to stay hidden in the kitchen. But if wishes came true, she wouldn't be in this predicament.

  She answered the door on Adam's second ring. His broad smile was as guileless as the eye of a hurricane, which was apropos since he was the center of a storm and didn't even know it.

  "Hello, Adam. Come in."

  "Sorry I'm late. I missed the house the first time and had to drive around the block before—"

  He broke off when he spotted Thad, who was leaning against the arched doorway of the dining room. Ankles crossed, arms casually folded across his chest, his air was that of a prospector who had staked the first claim. Up until fifteen minutes ago, he'd never set foot under her roof, but he looked well at home now.

  Elizabeth cleared her throat uneasily as the two men appraised each other. "Adam, this is my neighbor, Thad Randolph."

  Adam stepped forward. Thad indolently pushed himself away from the wall. They shook hands obligatorily.

  "Thad's helping me out tonight with my children. My sitter canceled at the last minute, so..." Elizabeth shrugged, hoping her date got the gist of the situation and would fill in the blanks for himself.

  "Oh, I see, well, good. Thanks, Randolph."

  The smile that could melt a block of ice at twenty paces didn't faze Thad, who replied stonily, "You're welcome."

  Adam extended Elizabeth a bouquet of roses. "These are for you."

  She took them from him. "Thank you. They're ... they're lovely."

  At that moment, her children came charging down the stairs. Like cartoon characters they braked and stacked together when they saw that Adam Cavanaugh had arrived. They approached him with the appropriate deference. Elizabeth made the introductions.

  "Hello, Mr. Cavanaugh," Megan said politely.

  "Hello, Mr. Cavanaugh," Matt echoed.

  Elizabeth breathed a profound sigh of relief. Her little darlings had come through.

  "Those flowers are just like the ones Thad brought Mom. You must'a bought 'em at the same place."

  * * *

  "I could have killed him."

  Now, it was easy to laugh at what Matt had said a few hours earlier. But when it had happened, it hadn't been very funny. Elizabeth had hoped the ground would open up and swallow her.

  Adam smiled at her over their candlelit table. "I knew it made you uncomfortable, but I saw the humor in it." He twirled his brandy snifter. "Can't say the same for Mr. Randolph. He didn't crack a smile."

  "Oh, don't mind him," Elizabeth said with a negligent wave of her hand. "Sometimes he comes across as being austere. Actually he's very nice. And great with my children."

  "Only with your children?"

  She lowered her eyes quickly. "We, Thad and I, are just good friends." And weren't they? Why, then, had she felt so guilty about being swept down the front walk to Adam's sleek foreign car parked at the curb and leaving Thad behind to baby-sit for her? There was no reason on earth why she should feel bad about it. He had volunteered to baby-sit, hadn't he? She hadn't twisted his arm.

  Adam was enough of a gentleman to let the subject drop before it got too personal and signaled the hovering waiter to refill their coffee cups. Adam was a gentleman about everything. Elizabeth had feared that after such an inauspicious beginning, the evening would turn out to be a total disaster. She had to credit him with turning it around. He'd been affable and charming about the whole thing.

  "I thought we'd
check out the competition tonight," he had told her when they were en route to one of the city's posh restaurants. "I've thought about hiring this chef away from here and installing him in one of my hotels. Let's give him a secret audition."

  Dinner had been a success. He had ordered the wine according to her entrée selection. The appetizers had been tasty, the sauces superb, the vegetables crisp, the dessert sumptuous. Adam directed the conversation to a variety of topics, which she also found interesting. He invited her to join him on the dance floor and they moved together well.

  When he complimented her on her talent, she explained, "I took dancing until I graduated from high school. I loved it."

  "What about your sister?"

  The animosity that had crackled between Lilah and Adam the first time they met in Fantasy had rekindled when he noticed her coming down the stairs of Elizabeth's house. They had exchanged civil hellos, but their mutual dislike was palpable.

  "Lilah didn't like dancing," Elizabeth told him now. "She was more into sports."

  "Football and ice hockey, no doubt."

  Elizabeth laughed. "Not quite. Tennis, softball, track. She was always more competitive than I, and somewhat of a tomboy."

  "That I can believe," he had said under his breath as he led her back to their table.

  Now, as they finished their coffee, Elizabeth wondered how this relaxed evening would end. She didn't have long to wonder. While they waited for the parking valet to bring his car around, Adam curled his hand around her upper arm.

  "Is there any reason for you to rush home?"

  Her insides had been warmed by the expensive vintage wine, the delicious food, the rich dessert. Her senses were pleasantly humming, like the strings of a violin beneath a gifted maestro's touch. Her escort was as handsome as a movie idol and was smiling at her with an unmistakable hint of intrigue. She felt beautiful, light-headed, and light-hearted. For once in her life, she longed to be reckless, to be swept headlong into a madcap love affair.

  She found it easy to say, "No, Adam. I don't have to rush home. Why?"

  "Have you ever seen the penthouse I use when I'm in town?"

  She swallowed hard and answered huskily. "No."

  "Would you like to?"

  * * *

  Chapter 8

  «^»

  "Thank you again, Adam. I had a wonderful time."

  "The pleasure was mine. Good night, Elizabeth. I'll see you soon."

  He brushed his lips across her forehead. She gave him one last smile, then slipped through the front door of her house. The living room was dark. She took several groping footsteps toward the nearest lamp, but before she found it, Thad's voice lurched at her from out of the darkness.

  "Have a good time?"

  "Lord," she exclaimed, "you scared me to death." Switching on the lamp, she found him sprawled in the corner of her sofa. He'd taken off his boots; they were on the floor. The sport coat he'd had on earlier in the evening was lying across the arm of the easy chair. His shirt was still tucked in, but barely, and it was unbuttoned to his waist.

  "Have a good time?" he repeated through lips that barely moved.

  Idle curiosity hadn't prompted him to ask. Not even polite interest. His voice was only a hair breadth above a growl. In her present mood, Elizabeth took offense. Her ego had been bruised, but she would be damned before she'd let him know it. Not that her personal life was any of his business in the first place.

  Flashing him a dazzling smile, she said, "I had a marvelous time." For emphasis, she executed a delightful little shiver which won her his glower. "What are you doing sitting in the dark?"

  "What's wrong with the dark?"

  "Nothing. But why aren't you in the den watching TV?"

  "I didn't feel like it."

  At the moment she didn't like him very much. She took exception to his casual slouching on her sofa, and to his open shirt, but especially to what was resting on his flat stomach. A highball glass.

  He caught the direction of her gaze and tilted the glass toward her in a mocking salute. "Care to join me in a nightcap?"

  "No."

  "I hope you don't mind that I helped myself."

  She did mind. Not that he had poured himself a drink from her small stock of liquor. What she minded was that he wasn't being his normal, nice self. He was being as surly as a street thug. And why? Was he regretting having baby-sat for her? What she minded most, however, was that he was still attractive in spite of his belligerence. Maybe even more so.

  She tossed her purse down on the hassock in front of the chair. "No, I don't mind that you helped yourself to a drink. Did the children give you any trouble?"

  "None at all. Did you give Cavanaugh any?"

  She glared right back at his censorious blue eyes. "I don't like your tone of voice, Thad."

  He rolled off his spine into a sitting position and placed his glass on the coffee table with a solid thud. His shirt fell open, revealing that muscled, hairy chest that she was trying to keep her eyes away from. "Well, that's just too damn bad, Elizabeth. Because this is the tone you're gonna get tonight."

  "Wrong. I'm not going to listen to you at all." She drew herself up straight. "I appreciate the favor you did for me tonight. Thank you. Now I think you'd better leave."

  Reaching the front door and dismissively holding it open for him was her goal. She never achieved it. No sooner had she given him her back, than he sprang off the couch as lithely as a panther and grabbed her upper arm. He spun her around to face him.

  "Do you know what time it is?"

  His rough treatment stunned her, so for a moment, the question seemed out of context. But then it dawned on her that it was rife with nasty implications. "Close to one-thirty, I believe," she replied sweetly. "Why? Is your wristwatch broken?"

  His jaw knotted with fury and a muscle in his cheek twitched dangerously. "Why are you coming home so late? What were you doing all that time with Cavanaugh?"

  "Having dinner."

  "For six damn hours?"

  "Be quiet. You'll wake up the children."

  He lowered his voice, but repeated his words in an accusing hiss. "I never had a meal that took six hours to eat."

  "After dinner we went dancing." One dance around a postage-stamp-sized dance floor hardly constituted "dancing," but out of sheer spite, she wanted Thad to think that Adam and she had cut a swath of gaiety through the city's nightclubs.

  He sneered. "Dancing?"

  "Yes, dancing. Adam likes to dance as much as I do."

  "And after that what did you do? Where did you go?" Deliberately she lowered her eyes, trying her best to look discomfited by the question. "You went to his room, didn't you?"

  "Room? Ha! That word falls short of describing the penthouse on the top floor of the Hotel Cavanaugh."

  The taut skin across his cheekbones stretched even tighter. His eyes were cold with rage, yet hot with jealousy. They narrowed on her face as he said sibilantly, "You slept with him."

  She wrested her arm free. "You are my neighbor, Thad, and up until a few minutes ago, I thought you were my friend. You have never been my father confessor." She drew a shaky breath. "Now kindly leave my house."

  She didn't even wait to see him out. After picking up her purse, she turned her back on him and marched upstairs. She tiptoed into each child's bedroom and was relieved to see that they had slept through the shouting match.

  The instant she entered her bedroom, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and noticed how rosy her cheeks were. Thad's accusation hadn't brought color to her cheeks because it was so close to the truth, but because it was so far from it.

  She stepped out of her shoes and took off Lilah's suit. She hung it on its padded hanger, placed it in her closet, and finished undressing. After dropping her nightgown over her head, she moved to her dressing table and gazed at her reflection. She said to it, "You're quite a siren, Elizabeth Burke."

  Her nightgown matched her mores; it, too, was from another era. Mad
e of white cotton, it had a wide scooping neckline and sleeves that ended in gathered ruffles at her wrists. There was a deep eyelet flounce on the skirt. Old-fashioned and quaint ... just like her, or so everyone apparently thought.

  Smiling wryly, she picked up her hairbrush and used it to destroy the thirty-dollar hairdo that was so out of character. As she did so, she began laughing softly to herself, recalling how her feet had floated over the carpeted floor from the private elevator to the etched glass doors of the penthouse.