by Nora Roberts
She shot him a look. “Uncle Max is the only one who has ever, or who will ever, call me that.”
“I like it.” He ran a finger down her nose. “It makes me wonder how you’d look in pigtails and a straw hat. Oh, God.” She saw his expression change from one of amusement to resignation just before he was enveloped by slim white arms.
“Oh, Sam, I just can’t believe how long it’s been.” The woman with the gypsy mane of red curls turned her face just enough to let the camera get her best side. “Darling, where have you been hiding?”
“Here and there.” He managed, with considerable skill, to untangle himself. “How are you, Toni?”
“Well, how do I look?” She threw back her magnificent head and laughed. Johanna noted that her dress was cut to the lowest degree that the law would allow. “I’ve been so terribly busy I’ve lost touch. I’ve just started filming and could barely fit this little event into my schedule. It’s so boring not being able to see friends.”
“Johanna Patterson, Toni DuMonde.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” Johanna knew DuMonde’s reputation as a mediocre actress who traded more on sex appeal than talent. She’d married well twice, and both husbands had boosted her career.
“Any friend of Sam’s—” she began, then stopped. “You aren’t Carl’s daughter, are you?” Before Johanna could answer, she threw her head back again, making sure her hair cascaded as she laughed. “What a riot! Darling, I’ve just been dying to meet you!” Placing a hand on Johanna’s shoulder, she scanned the room. Her eyes, sharp and tawny, skimmed over minor celebrities, smiled at those worth noticing and narrowed when focused on a rival. When she found her objective, her smile turned up several hundred kilowatts. Johanna noticed the flashy diamond on her left hand as she signaled.
“This is such a happy coincidence,” Toni continued. “I’m sure you’ll understand how very delighted I am. Sweetheart, look who I found.”
Johanna looked at her father as Toni snuggled against him. The move was calculated so that the diamond on her finger winked hard and cold and in plain sight.
“Johanna, I didn’t realize you were attending.” Carl brushed his cheek against hers, as he would have with any of his hundreds of acquaintances.
He was a tall man, with broad shoulders and a flat stomach. He’d allowed his face to line because he had a fear of going under the knife, even cosmetically. But he’d never permitted his body to sag. At fifty-five, Carl W. Patterson was in his prime. Women were as drawn to him now as they had been thirty years before. Perhaps more, as power added to his sex appeal.
“You’re looking well,” Johanna told him. Sam noted that there was none of the warmth here that there had been when she’d greeted Max Heddison. “Carl Patterson, Sam Weaver.”
“A pleasure.” Carl took Sam’s hand in his hefty, well-manicured one. “I’ve kept my eye on your career. Word is you’re starting a film with Berlitz soon. We go back a ways.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“Isn’t this cozy?” Toni put in, clipping her free hand through Sam’s arm. “The four of us running into each other this way. We’ll have to get a table together, won’t we, Carl? After all, I’ll want to get to know your daughter, now that we’re going to be family.”
Johanna didn’t freeze. She didn’t even react. By this time she was past being surprised by her father. “Congratulations.” She winced only slightly when a camera flashed, catching the four of them together.
“We haven’t set the date yet.” Toni beamed up at Carl. “But we plan to make it soon—well, as soon as a few minor matters are taken care of.”
Which would be the legal disposal of his fourth wife, Johanna surmised. Fortunately, she was no longer affected by the whims or variable presence of stepmothers. “I’m sure you’ll be very happy.”
“We intend to be.” Carl patted Toni’s hand, looking at her rather than at his daughter.
“Do let’s get a table, Carl, and have a drink to celebrate.” Toni kept a casual grip on both men. So casual that it was barely noticeable when Sam removed her hand and took Johanna’s. Hers was ice-cold and rigid.
“I’m sorry, we can’t stay long.” Sam’s smile was charming and faintly apologetic.
“Oh, pooh, you’ve time for one quick drink before this place turns into a zoo.” Toni trailed her fingertips up Carl’s arm. “Darling, you’ll have to insist.”
“No need to insist.” She wouldn’t be ill, Johanna told herself. She wouldn’t even be upset. Neither did she smile as she looked up at her father. “The least I can do is drink to your happiness.”
“Wonderful.” Toni thought it more than wonderful to be seen with a man as important as Carl and a man as attractive as Sam at the same time. “Now, Johanna darling, you mustn’t believe all those naughty things you must have read about Sam and me. You know how people in this town love to talk.” She turned to be escorted inside and shot a smile over her shoulder, daring Johanna not to believe every word.
“Why in the hell are you doing this?” Sam demanded.
“Because it’s part of the game.” Chin up, Johanna stepped into the ballroom.
***
The room was full of babble. It glittered as such events are meant to, and it would make excellent copy in People. It would raise a great deal of money—a hundred, perhaps a hundred and fifty thousand dollars—while making the evening worth the price of the meal. And the food was lavish.
She didn’t eat. Johanna barely noticed what was placed in front of her, though Toni cooed over each course and made noises about calories. The ring on her hand flashed triumphantly every time she moved her fingers. She made coy little remarks about Sam behaving like a gentleman with her almost-step-daughter, giggled delightedly about having a daughter the same age as herself and snuggled kisses on Carl’s cheek when she wasn’t flirting elsewhere.
He was dazzled by her. Johanna sipped champagne and watched her father preen whenever the redhead stroked his ego. She’d never known him to be dazzled by a woman before. Desirous, covetous, infuriated, but never dazzled.
“Just a teeny bit more,” Toni said when Carl poured more wine. “You know how silly I get when I drink too much.” She shot him an intimate look that promised she could get a great deal more than silly. “Isn’t this a wild crowd?” She waved cheerily to someone at another table. “God, what a hideous dress. All those diamonds don’t make up for plain bad taste, do they? Sam, darling, I heard Lauren’s seeing some French race-car driver. Did she break your heart?”
“No,” he said flatly, and shifted away when she patted his knee.
“That’s because you always do the heartbreaking. Be very careful with this man, Johanna dear, better women than I have shed a tear over him.”
“I’m certain,” Johanna said sweetly, and sipped more champagne.
“Tell me, why haven’t you had your daddy put you in the movies?” Toni gave her a cool woman-to-woman look over her glass.
“I don’t act.”
“What do you do?”
“Johanna produces daytime television,” Carl put in. “The latest reports that crossed my desk were excellent, by the way.”
“Thank you.”
“Evening syndication is moving forward?”
“Yes, we just finalized it. I would have sent you a memo, but I thought you were out of town.”
“We just spent two weeks on the most dismal location shoot in Arizona.” Toni patted Carl’s hand. “Thank God Carl was there to be sure I wasn’t worn to a frazzle. Sam, I’ve heard the most marvelous things about your television thing. That’ll be aired in a couple of weeks, won’t it?”
He smiled at her again and nodded. He knew she’d tested for the part of Sarah and had yet to forgive him for not pulling strings to get it for her.
“We really should do a movie together, with Carl producing.”
When hell freezes over, Sam thought. “I really hate to cut this short, but Johanna and I are already late.” He rose
before anyone could protest and offered a hand. “A pleasure meeting you, Mr. Patterson, and my compliments on your finest production.” Taking Johanna by the hand, he grinned at Toni. “Don’t ever change, darling.”
“Good night,” Johanna said to her father. “Best wishes.” She didn’t object to Sam’s supporting arm as he guided her out of the ballroom. “You didn’t have to cut your evening short on my account,” she began.
“I didn’t cut it short, and I’m not leaving only on your account. I don’t like socializing with piranhas like Toni.” He drew out the claim check for his car and handed it to the boy on the curb. “Besides, you look like you could use some fresh air.”
“I’m not drunk.”
“No, but you were heading there.”
“I never get drunk, because I don’t like to be out of control.”
Truer words had never been spoken, he was certain. “Fine, but I’m going to get you something to eat anyway.” He handed the boy who brought his car a twenty and ushered Johanna in himself. “Could you handle a burger?”
“I’m not hungry.”
Stubborn, he thought, and just this side of sulking. “Okay, I want a burger.”
She started to snap and realized just in time that she was being nasty. “Sam, I appreciate it, but I really don’t want anything. Why don’t you just drop me off so I can get my car?”
“You had five glasses of wine. I counted.” He’d nursed one the moment he’d seen what kind of mood she was in. “I’m driving you home—after we eat.”
“I can’t leave my car in town.”
“I’ll have someone drop it off to you tomorrow.”
“That’s too much trouble. I can—”
“Johanna . . .” He pulled over to the curb and waited until she looked at him. “Let me be a friend, okay?”
She shut her eyes, wanting badly to do something else she never allowed herself. To cry, hard and long and for no reason at all. “Thanks. I guess I could use some food and some air.”
In his tux, Sam ran into a bright fast-food restaurant, ordered burgers, fries and coffee, signed half a dozen autographs and ran out again. “Life’s rarely simple anymore,” he told Johanna as he tucked the bag between her feet. “The little girl behind the counter wanted to pay for them, and I know damn well she stuck her phone number in the bag. She must have been all of nineteen.”
“You should have let me go in.”
“We all have our crosses to bear.” He headed out. “Johanna, I don’t make it a habit to pay attention to what’s said about me in print—unless it’s a review—but I’d like to make an exception and tell you that Toni and I were never together.”
“Sam, it’s none of my business.”
“Whether you think it’s your business or not, I’d like you to believe me. If you’ve already got a picture of her and me, it’s bad enough. When you add that to the fact that she’s apparently going to marry your father, it’s ludicrous.”
Johanna opened her eyes and studied him as he drove. It hadn’t occurred to her before. She’d been too wrapped up in her own thoughts and feelings to notice. But she saw it now. “She embarrassed you. I’m sorry.”
“I just didn’t like her implying—” Implying, hell, he thought. She’d practically taken out an ad. “I’d feel better if you understood there’d never been anything between us.” He wanted to say more but found it difficult to say what he thought about the woman who was going to become a part of Johanna’s family. “Anyway, it wasn’t quite the evening I had in mind.”
In a little while he pulled up at the crest of a hill. Below, spread out like a game of lights, was the Los Angeles Basin. He put the top down. Far off in the distance she heard the call of a coyote.
“We’re not dressed for burgers, but I got plenty of napkins.” He reached down for the bag and the back of his hand brushed her calf. “Johanna, I have to tell you something.”
“What?”
“You have incredible legs.”
“Give me a hamburger, Sam,” she said, and took off her shoes.
“Smells better than the veal medallions.”
“Is that what we had?”
“No, that’s what you didn’t have. Here’s the ketchup.” He passed her a handful of little plastic bags, then waited until he was satisfied she was eating. If he’d ever seen anyone more miserable than Johanna had been at that pretty, flower-bedecked table with stars glittering in every corner, he couldn’t remember. The worst of it was that she’d been struggling to be valiant about it.
“Want to talk about it?” When she only shrugged, he pressed a little harder. “I take it you didn’t know your father was planning to get married again.”
“I didn’t know he was planning to get divorced again. He doesn’t check these things through with me.”
“Are you fond of your current stepmother?”
“My father’s current wife,” she corrected automatically, which told him a great deal. “I don’t know, I’ve only met her a couple of times. I think she moved back to New York a few weeks ago. I was just surprised because he doesn’t usually stack one marriage on top of the other. Generally there’s a space of a year or two between legal contracts.”
“He’ll have a few months to get to know Toni better. He could change his mind.”
“I’m sure he knows exactly what she is. One thing Carl isn’t is stupid.”
“Sometimes if you tell someone when you’re angry with them it loosens things up.”
“I’m not angry with him, not really.”
He brushed his knuckles along her cheek. “Hurt?”
She shook her head, unable to trust herself to speak for a moment. “He lives his own life. He always has. And that makes it easier for me to live mine.”
“You know, I had some real matches with my father.” He shook the bag of fries, urging them on her.
“Did you?”
“God, did we fight.” With a laugh, Sam opened his coffee and began to sip. “The Weavers have tempers. We like to yell. I think I spent most of the years between fifteen and twenty going head-to-head with my old man. I mean, just because I plowed the car through Greenley’s fence was no reason to confiscate my license for six weeks, was it?”
“I imagine Greenley thought it was. Did you ever get your own way?”
“I figure that was about seventy-five, twenty-five, with him holding the lion’s share. I probably got as much as I did because he was busy yelling at my brother or one of my sisters.”
“It must be different, having a big family. I always imagined . . .”
“What?”
The wine cushioned embarrassment. Without it, she might never have said it out loud. “I sometimes thought it would be nice when I was little to have brothers and sisters . . . I don’t know, grandparents to visit, family squabbles. Of course, I had stepsiblings from time to time. Things were usually finished before we’d gotten used to each other.”
“Come here.” He shifted over so he could put an arm around her. “Feel any better?”
“A lot.” She sighed and rested her head. “I appreciate it.”
Her hair smelled like the air outside the windows. Clean, quiet. The urge to turn his face into it was natural, and he did it without thinking. “I wish you hadn’t had so much wine.”
“Why?”
“Then it wouldn’t be against the rules for me to seduce you.”
She surprised herself by turning her face to his. She didn’t like the word “seduce.” It implied a lack of will. But just now it sounded liberating, and more than tempting. “You live by the rules?”
“Not many of them.” He brought his hand to her hair. “I want to make love with you, Johanna, but when I do I want you to have your wits about you. So for now I’ll settle for a little less.”
He nipped at her lower lip, testing its softness, experimenting with tastes. Here was warmth, just edging toward heat, and acceptance, only a step away from surrender.
Of all the visions and
fantasies he’d already had of being with her, the one that was the strongest was of him just holding her like this, with the stars overhead and the night breezes blowing cool and clean.
She could have pulled away. His touch was so gentle she knew he would never have pushed. Not this time. There would be others. She already accepted that. On another night when the breeze was just ruffling the leaves he’d hold her like this, and his mood wouldn’t be as patient. Nor, she was afraid, would hers. Something had taken root, no matter how hard she’d tried to pull it free. With a little sigh, she brought a hand to his face.
It was torture, but he ran his hand along her bare shoulders. He wanted to take the feel of her with him when he drew away. Just as he would take the taste of her, the scent of her skin, with him on the long, lonely trip home.
“I wish I knew what I was feeling,” she murmured when she could speak again. It wasn’t the wine. It would have been a lie to blame it on anything so ordinary. Her eyes were heavy, a bit dazed. Her