by Peggy Webb
She drifted into his arms and it seemed only natural to hold her there. He didn’t know who made the first move, but suddenly they were dancing, hips pressed close, hands tightly clasped. It seemed he had never danced before and, at the same time, that he had always danced. Belinda was tall and willowy, and she moved in his arms with more grace than any woman he’d ever known. His own movements were surprisingly sure, as if the memories of dance had been buried deep inside and had sprung to life in that moment of music and roses.
He felt something soft against his cheek and, looking down, saw that it was her hair. Belinda had laid her head on his shoulder, and her silky hair caressed his cheek. He closed his eyes to the lovely sensations that rippled along his skin.
“You dance a lot better than Charlie Crocket,” she said.
“I’m glad.” He tightened his hold, wanting close enough so their heartbeats blended.
“Better even than Matt Hankins.”
“Who’s Matt Hankins?”
“Just somebody who drifted out of my life the same way he drifted in. Men seem to come and go in my life with the regularity of tides.”
Reeve was jealous of them all—Matt Hankins and Charlie Crocket and every other man who had ever drifted close enough to be a part of Belinda’s life. The force of his feeling startled him, and he was suddenly very conscious of the way he was holding Belinda.
He eased his hold and she tipped her face up and smiled at him.
“I’m harmless, Reeve.”
Her quick assessment of his motives startled him. “Perhaps I’m not.”
“Oh.”
Gazing down at her, he lost track of the music. His steps slowed, then stopped altogether.
The music wound to a close, and still they stood in the center of the room, holding each other, locked together by passion that was as sudden as it was unexpected.
He moved away from her, toward the sofa, his heart beating as if he had just escaped a band of cutthroats. Belinda stood silently in the center of the room, beautiful and lovely to look at.
There was an unconscious elegance about her that struck Reeve as both natural and surprisingly strange. How could a woman of her background project such a stately well-bred image? What would she be like if she were groomed and tutored and polished? It boggled the mind.
“Do you like ballet?” he asked suddenly.
She smiled, then came toward him, her skirts whispering softly. “Well, I’ve never seen the real stuff, up on a big stage and all that, but I’ve seen some on the TV.”
With an ease born of self-confidence, Belinda sat on the sofa beside him, spreading her skirts carefully, then taking time to bend down and smooth her hose. Not many women wore them nowadays, especially women as young as she. Somehow, he found that fashion statement very endearing.
“Did you like the ballet, Belinda?”
“I thought all that jumping around was right graceful, and the women’s costumes were just peachy, but I did think the men ought to wear a different kind of pants. I mean, just look what all they were showing.”
“Indeed.” Reeve smoothed his hand over his chin to keep from chuckling. Belinda’s point of view never failed to delight him.
“What would you think about going with me to the ballet Saturday night?”
“Why...I would think that was just about the grandest thing I’ve done since I came to Tupelo.”
She leaned down to give her legs another smoothing. Reeve’s gaze followed her hands. A muscle worked in his jaw, and sweat beaded his upper lip. Someday he might have to tell her what her unconscious gesture did to him. On the other hand, he didn’t really want her to stop.
Belinda finished arranging herself and smiled at Reeve. “Now that I’m drawing such a fancy salary, I might start going to all sorts of highbrow stuff like the ballet. I’ve always thought I’d like it better than mud wrestling, anyhow.”
“Mud wrestling?”
“Charlie Crocket used to be right fond of the Saturday night mud wrestling. Of course, I always did like to be in a crowd that’s having fun, but seeing folks grabbing at each other all covered in mud didn’t have much appeal to me.”
“I think you’ll find the ballet much more to your liking.”
The scent of roses drifted Reeve’s way again, and he fought the urge to slide his arm along the back of the sofa and rest it lightly on Belinda’s shoulders. It was time for him to go. After all, he had made a small start on his project, and the things he wished to accomplish couldn’t be done in a single evening. The education and sophistication of Belinda Diamond would take a long time.
Reeve smiled. He couldn’t remember when he had been as excited over a project. Belinda had great potential, and when he finished with her, she’d be the envy of every woman in Tupelo—and the target of every man. That last thought shook him a little. Not for any personal reasons, he assured himself. Not at all. His reasons for remaking Belinda Diamond were strictly business. She was the best nanny he had ever hired, and with a little polish, she would be perfect. And if his finished product attracted the attention of men, he’d just have to protect her. It was that simple.
He was enormously pleased with himself, so pleased that he reached over and lightly squeezed her hand.
“Will you please excuse me, Belinda?” He wanted to get started right away lining up the necessary people for his project.
“Certainly.”
He stood up. “Thank you for the dance.”
“Next time we’ll do the jitterbug. It’s one of the best dances ever invented.”
“Indeed.” He was spellbound for a moment, lost in thoughts of doing the jitterbug with Belinda. Then he said good-night and strode from the den, trying all the while to stay in his dual role of employer and tutor.
In the doorway, he stopped and glanced back at Belinda. She lifted her hand and flickered her fingers at him.
“Toodle-oo,” she said.
Reeve left the den whistling. He guessed an employer might whistle on occasion. What was the harm?
Belinda sat on the sofa, humming, watching him go. Boy, had he surprised her. That man was some dancer. Why, she had felt like she was floating, the way he had held her in his arms and guided her around the room—just floating off on a fine big old cloud.
“Hmm...” She hugged herself and closed her eyes. “My, my,” she murmured, remembering how his eyes had gotten all bright and hot-looking when they had stopped in the middle of the dance and stood gazing at each other. And just to think he had invited her to the ballet.
She imagined herself walking into the auditorium, holding his arm like a queen. Why, she’d bet every woman in town would envy her. Never in all her life had a man like Reeve Lawrence drifted her way.
She leaned her head back on the sofa and imagined holding hands with him there—and even kissing him good-night. Her dream was so real she could almost feel his lips on hers.
“Hmm,” she said again, then suddenly sat up, eyes wide. “Now wait here just a minute, Belinda Stubaker. This is the best job you’ve ever had. Don’t you dare go messing it up with silly notions of falling in love with the boss.”
She got up and hurried across the room to put on some more music. Music was just what she needed to set herself straight on the present situation.
Another sad country song began, and Belinda slowly started to sway. She had done well this evening, getting Reeve to loosen up a little and dance. But that was all she planned to do—loosen him up a little and teach him how to enjoy life. Shoot, she wasn’t about to overstep her bounds and find another man drifting out of her life. She was ready for a little permanence.
“I surely do love this grand house,” she whispered as she twirled to the music of Waylon Jennings.
o0o
Reeve had never intended to go shopping for a dress, but that was exactly what he found himself doing the day after he invited Belinda to the ballet. He had been walking down Main Street after lunch, enjoying the sunshine and taking a rare leisurely
stroll before going back to his office at Lawrence Enterprises, when he had spotted the perfect dress for Belinda. He went inside the store.
Maureen, who remembered him from the days Sunny had been alive, hurried to meet him. “Can I help you, Mr. Lawrence?”
“Yes. The I’d like to see the dress in the window, Maureen. Do you have it in size...” Reeve had no idea what size Belinda wore. Sunny had been a perfect size six, and while Belinda was just as slim, she was also taller.
Maureen was quick to see his dilemma. “Perhaps if you will describe the lady in question, I can help you with the size.”
“She’s tall. At least five nine, perhaps five ten. And very slender, almost as slim as Sunny.”
“I see.” There was no disapproval in Maureen’s tone, only a polite interest and perhaps a mild curiosity. “This dress is fitted. Is she full figured?”
“No, I wouldn’t say so.”
Reeve was surprised at how easy it was to shop for Belinda. He had no haunting visions of Sunny, no feelings of guilt. He didn’t even suffer the dull aching sense of loss that had been a part of his life for the past two years. Instead, he felt a sense of peace as pleasant memories of times spent in this store with Sunny played through his mind. He felt almost as if he was finally bidding goodbye to Sunny, allowing her to move on to a different realm. Not that he had stopped loving her. He would never stop loving her. But now, he could let her go.
The changes had taken place so gradually he hadn’t even noticed them. Time had healed his wounds. Time and perhaps a woman named Belinda Diamond.
He felt curiously buoyant, as if he might take wing and fly out of the store.
Maureen got the dress for him, assuring him that the lady could return it if it didn’t fit.
“Do you want it gift wrapped?”
He hadn’t planned to, but gift wrapping suddenly seemed like a wonderful idea. Belinda was the kind of woman who would love a surprise that came in a fancy package.
“Yes, please. And, Maureen, use the fanciest paper you have and tie it with the biggest bow.”
Maureen quirked one eyebrow upward, perhaps remembering that Sunny had been discreet and understated in all things—including gift-wrapped packages.
“Certainly, Mr. Lawrence.”
o0o
Reeve considered leaving the package on Belinda’s bed and letting her find it on her own. Then he thought about presenting it to her at the dinner table in the presence of his children. For a while he was taken with the idea of having it delivered to the house by a messenger boy. “Package for Miss Belinda Diamond,” the delivery boy would say. How Belinda would love that!
In the end, though, he decided to be selfish and present the gift to her in a private ceremony.
That evening, he sat quietly through dinner, watching and marveling at the rapport between Belinda and the children.
“Can we show Daddy our secret now?” Betsy said in a loud whisper as she leaned toward Belinda.
“After dinner,” Belinda told her. Her glance slid toward Reeve. He smiled. His life had taken on an order and a routine that was exceedingly pleasing to him.
“And what is this big secret, sweetheart?” he asked his daughter.
“If she tells, it won’t be a secret,” Mark chimed in.
“Can we skip dessert, Daddy?” Betsy bounced up and down in her chair, clapping her hands. “Can we?”
“If this big secret is waiting until after dinner, I suggest we adjourn to the den. We can have dessert later.”
Betsy and Mark jumped out of their chairs and scampered out of the room, laughing and chattering. “We’ll meet you in the den, Daddy,” Mark called over his shoulder.
“Shall we?” Reeve offered his arm to Belinda—a habit he had developed in the past few days—and escorted her to the den. She glided along beside him, tall and lovely, like a long-stemmed summer flower. He had a vision of her in her new dress. It seemed that tonight was a night for surprises.
Reeve took his customary chair in the den, and Belinda sat on the sofa and spread her skirts. He watched her, waiting for another ritual—the smoothing of her stockings. Her hair swung forward in a bright fan of gold as she leaned down and ran her hands down her legs. This time her stockings had tiny sequined diamond shapes.
A satisfied sigh escaped Reeve’s lips. It was funny how these small nightly rituals soothed him. Even more mystifying was the way he looked forward to finding out what sort of decorations would adorn Belinda’s stockings. Sometimes, late in the afternoons, he found himself gazing out the window of his office, wondering whether she would have hearts or diamonds or bows marching in a glittering row down her slim legs.
Thank God nobody around here could read minds. He leaned back in his chair, content.
Betsy and Mark bounded into the room, trailed by Quincy.
“Lord have mercy, Mr. Reeve,” she said, puffing as she lumbered toward her chair. “The children are enough to wear Belinda to a frazzle. But she’s always just as lively as if she’d come up from eight hours’ sleep on a feather comforter.” She fanned herself with her apron. “I never saw a woman take to a job the way she has.” She smiled over at Belinda.
Reeve laughed. “Didn’t I tell you, Quincy? Belinda’s job is permanent.”
“Nothin’ has ever been permanent with you before. Specially where the children’s concerned. I just thought I’d get my two cents’ worth in. That’s all.”
“Point taken, Quincy.” He hugged Betsy close as she sidled up to him. “Now, sweetheart, what’s this big surprise you and Mark have been keeping for Daddy?”
“This.” Betsy pulled a willow whistle from behind her back.
Mark came forward with his whistle. “And guess what? Belinda helped us make them!”
Reeve inspected the whistle. It was a small willow flute, ingeniously made.
“You keep surprising me, Belinda. You’re a woman of many talents.”
“Shoot. It’s just a little old whistle. Daddy taught us how to make them down in Georgia. See, we didn’t have money to spend on fancy toys and stuff, so we had to make do with what we had. Anyhow, that’s not important. The important thing is I always remembered my daddy showing me how to make that whistle and the good times we had picking out tunes. I just think it’s good to really be a part of children’s lives.”
She paused, her cheeks flushed, then turned to Betsy and Mark. “Are you ready for the show, children?”
Betsy and Mark stood side by side in front of Reeve’s chair, their faces important-looking, and lifted their flutes to their lips. At first he couldn’t tell that the sounds they were making were music; but gradually he began to distinguish the tune. They were playing a shaky but enthusiastic rendition of “Yankee Doodle.”
As he listened to the music, a part of his mind was occupied with the things Belinda had said. She was a very wise woman. And he had set himself up as her teacher. The wonderful irony was that it appeared he was the one learning most of the lessons.
He was both amused and proud. With raw material like that, there was no telling what he could accomplish.
The children finished their song; then everybody had dessert. When it was time for the children’s baths and bed, they kissed him goodnight, then Belinda took their hands and excused herself.
She was halfway across the room before Reeve spoke. “Belinda.” She paused, glancing over her shoulder. “I’d like to see you after you’ve tucked the children in.”
“In your office?”
“No. Here.”
“Certainly.” She nodded and left the room, the children in tow.
After they had gone, closing the door behind them, Quincy settled back into her chair and gave Reeve a sassy grin.
“What was that for, Quincy?”
“You like her, don’t you?”
“She’s the best nanny I’ve ever had.”
“I’m not talkin’ about nannies. I’m talkin’ personal.”
“Sometimes you talk too much, Quincy
.”
“I’m seein’ developments, and I’m likin’ what I see.”
“If you’re putting two and two together and getting family, you can get that thought out of your mind.”
“I’m not sayin’ what I’m puttin’ together.” Quincy grinned.
“Good.” Reeve gave his faithful old housekeeper what he considered his best I’m-the-boss look. Because she was not the least bit impressed, he added, “My relationship with Belinda Diamond is strictly business—and that’s all it’s ever going to be. I don’t intend to lose a good nanny.”
“No, indeedy.” Chuckling, Quincy rose laboriously from her chair. “I’m goin’ to bed.” She lumbered across the room, then turned for one last comment. “Sure does get lonesome, just one in a bed.”
Reeve declined to comment. He knew Quincy would have the last word, anyway.
He sat in his chair for a moment after Quincy had gone, smiling to himself. His gift was tucked in the entertainment center, out of sight. He glanced around the den and suddenly decided, Why not?
He put a good blues CD on the stereo, took out a bottle of wine and turned the lights down low. Then he sat down in his chair to wait for Belinda Diamond.
Chapter Six
After the children were settled into their beds, Belinda made her way back down the vast hallway toward the den where Reeve waited. What in the world did he want to see her about? Had she done something wrong?
No use expecting the worst, she told herself. Then she lifted her chin and tried to think positively. Maybe he wanted another dance lesson.
She eased open the den door, expecting to see the lights blazing just the way she’d left them. Instead, she had to stand in the doorway and adjust her eyes to the gloom.
“Reeve?”
“Over here.”
He was still in the chair where she had left him, but he had been a busy man since she’d been gone. Soft blues music filled the room, and in the semidarkness she spotted two crystal wine goblets on the coffee table, catching the lamplight.