Heather Graham (13 page)

She stared after him stupidly as he entered the guest room and closed the door behind him.

Fury and humiliation swept through her simultaneously. He had known he could have her; he had known as clearly as if she had spelled it out for him. And he had calmly walked away.

He had been proving a point to her. She kept thinking she could run and hide within the walls of the years, the arms of maturity. But the cat, grown more dangerous with age, was merely playing. Her defenses were all plasterboard; they would crumble at the touch of a well-aimed claw.

“Damn you, Brian Trent,” she whispered beneath her breath. “I did it once; I learned to live without you. You can’t do this to me. You just can’t dance back into my life and make me forget my past. I can’t just forget Keith….It’s not right!”

And, she warned herself two hours later as she stared sightlessly up at the ceiling, where the moon created mysterious pictures in a shadow dance, she couldn’t go on anymore without getting some sleep.

But sleep, like the first tease of Brian’s kiss, eluded her. She tossed about miserably, wondering why she felt terribly disloyal to both men. She was Brian’s wife, but she hadn’t seen him in twelve years. Keith had been her warmth, her reality, for three years. In Brian’s arms she was ready to forget that the rest of the world existed, but when she lay alone, she remembered Keith again. And she knew that despite all of Brian’s ultimatums, she needed time. He had accused her of shelving them both; perhaps that was what she was doing. She just didn’t know what to do.

Her face flooded with shame and misery. She was lying to both of them, making promises, telling, or allowing Brian to believe, that she wouldn’t see Keith. Telling Keith that she loved him. It was true. But she was also beginning to wonder if that love could withstand the heat of the sun. Or if she herself could survive it.

Down the hallway Brian was also twisting in fervent misery. He rolled over for what felt like the millionth time, groaning softly to himself.

Trent, you are an unmitigated ass.
In his dreams he had held her, felt the fires kindle and leap between them. He had often wondered if he was sane, if reality could be the wonder of dreams, or if he hadn’t bestowed on his wife a magic that belonged only to the world of dreams, memory seen through the haze of distance and longing.

But now he knew. He had never imagined anything between them that wasn’t real. Her hair was flame, her flesh was a field of rose petals, and when they came together, it could only be tender fire.

She could have been his, and he had walked away.
Ass!
he thought self-accusingly.

But what else could he have done? He wanted her with the intensity of a desperate man, yet as he had known when he was released from the hell of imprisonment, more than a decade stretched between them. They had to fall in love all over again. He wanted her certain; he wanted her in love again. He didn’t want her pity; he didn’t want her even remotely believing that she was doing her duty as an American.

He sat up suddenly in the bed, shaking his head and laughing at himself. Maybe he had come up with a belated case of jungle fever. He was playing a game to win, wasn’t he? What the hell did he care what her motivations were if he could just get her into bed that first time? Nobility be damned all the way. He knew if he just held her through the night one more time, he would be three-quarters of the way home.

“Next time, Mrs. Kimberly Trent,” he whispered aloud to the night, “there will be no reprieves. Or else I will become insane!”

He smiled as he thought of her trying to grab the dinner check. One day soon he’d explain that they were in the best financial situation they’d ever been in. And as soon as he could, he would talk to her. She wasn’t going to like all he had to say, so he’d like to have her in a position where she wouldn’t be able to walk away. Naked and curled beside him in bed seemed the best possible situation.

When he lay back again, he was still thinking of Kim. But he was also thinking of Lien Chi, the beautiful Vietnamese woman who had saved his life and his soul so many times. But thoughts of Lien Chi were more painful than worry over his tenacious grasp on his present life. He was capable of accepting the past, but the memory of Lien Chi was an ache so sharp it could still rip through him like a knife.

He couldn’t allow himself to think of her or of the child he had also lost.

Sleep would come. He had willed it to come before. He could will it to come now.

K
IM HAD BARELY SAID
hello to Si-Co Advertising’s sunny young receptionist before Lacey Hart, one of the staff photographers, almost attacked her. “Kim, I have to talk to you. Please! Right now!”

Kim glanced at Lacey with startled surprise, frowned, and nodded. “Come on into my office.”

Her office was a cubicle but comfortable. The walls were covered with pictures and posters, Si-Co ads. She had personally taken a couple of advertising awards over the years, and those two were in frames on the wall. Her desk was small, and there were no lounges or couches, just one extra chair before the small desk. Lacey threw herself into it.

Kim was further surprised to see that Lacey was close to tears. “They gave me the hams last week!” she exclaimed as Kim sat down with a cup of muddy office coffee. “I can’t do it, Kim. I just can’t do it. I can’t work with David Harris!”

Kim lifted a brow slightly, although it was certainly no great surprise to learn that another photographer was having a problem with David. Lacey was young and very pretty, and she was also married.

“What happened?” Kim asked.

Lacey blushed and looked down at her nails. She stumbled for words for a moment and then looked Kim straight in the eye. “I don’t know, Kim, I guess I created half of this myself awhile ago. I—I—” Lacey drew a deep breath and then started talking in a rush. “About six months ago David started showing an interest in me. Bob—my husband—you know Bob, don’t you, Kim?”

“Yes, Lacey, I know your husband,” Kim said, implying that she should get on with her story. Bob Hart was an attractive young man, well accepted at the office parties he had been to for Christmas and New Year’s.

“Bob and I were having problems at the time. Anyway, I guess I was flattered by David. Aggravated and bored at home. I, uh, I started seeing David.”

“Oh?” Kim said the word uncondemningly; she knew David Harris’s ability to be charming.

Lacey was turning a miserable-looking shade of beet red. “Bob and I made it up, and I told David I couldn’t see him again. The funny thing is, Kim, I don’t think he really cared. I knew he was seeing other women besides me at the time, but I guess it was just because I broke it off with him first—”

“So what happened last Monday?” Kim asked.

“Oh, everything, Kim! He kept telling me I had the wrong light, the wrong film, the wrong angles. He embarrassed me to death in front of the Lean Meat people. And he made me so nervous, Kim, that the pictures did come out terrible! They all have to be shot again. Oh, Kim, I can’t do it! I just can’t spend another day in there with him criticizing me again.”

“Okay, Lacey,” Kim murmured, “I have to speak with Mr. Simms, and then I’ll go see Harris. Have we got a ham to reshoot?”

A smile of gratitude and relief was spreading across Lacey’s face. “Yes, Kim, yes! I baked another ham last night myself. I was so scared that I was going to lose my job—”

“You’re not going to lose your job because of David Harris,” Kim said quietly. “Go on into the studio and set up for me, will you? I want to see Simms. Lacey, I’m going to take some time off, and I’d like to leave you in charge. Think you can handle it?”

“Me?” Lacey asked, then swallowed. “Oh, Kim, I’d love to try, but what about David Harris?”

“David shouldn’t have anything coming up until I return, Lacey, so you should be okay. The next four ads scheduled for shooting are with Marie Windsor and Buddy Grimes. Both are nice people to work with.”

“Oh, Kim, thank you!”

For a moment Kim was afraid Lacey was going to jump over the desk and hug her, but the younger girl controlled her emotions and walked around the desk to pump her hand. Suddenly Lacey was gasping again. “Oh, Kim, I’m so sorry! I forgot to tell you how happy I am for you! I hear your husband came home. How marvelous for you.”

“Thank you, Lacey.”

“Your sons must be ecstatic.”

“They are.”

“Oh, wow, but what about Ke—” Lacey broke off, flushing deeply again.

Kim lowered her lashes. She had never made any secret of her relationship with Keith. Most of her co-workers had always accepted Keith with friendly interest. Kim attempted to smile noncommittally. “I’m really not terribly sure about anything just yet, Lacey. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“How can you not be sure about Brian Trent?” Lacey seemed to explode.

Taken off guard, Kim frowned. “Pardon?”

“I, uh, oh, I’m sorry, Kim. It’s just that I went to the same university as you two did, and well, Brian was still a legend the year that I went in. His pictures are still in the sports office even now.” Lacey flushed an even deeper shade than before. “I feel a little like a fool saying this, but even his picture can give a girl’s heart the flutters, you know what I mean.”

Kim stared at the girl politely.

“I’m, uh, leaving, Kim,” Lacey said, standing hastily. She started backing toward the door. “I’ll get that ham set up right away for you. I guess Brian is older now, though, huh? Oh, wow, I’m sorry, Kim. I’m butting in—”

“Lacey!” Kim laughed. “Don’t be sorry. Just go fix the ham now, please? I have a luncheon appointment, and I want to get that damn piece of pork out of the way, okay?”

“Okay!” Lacey fled the office.

Kim half smiled as she finished her coffee and rose. She was in a mood to do battle. She had come close enough to losing her job because of David Harris, and he had better be prepared now. Now that she had been spending her time clashing with Brian, David was going to be a piece of cake. But first she’d see Mr. Simms.

“Kimberly…” He stood and enveloped her hands as he greeted her across his desk. His, in contrast with hers, was massive. As he warmly held her hands, she began to feel she was going to be stretched so tightly that she would teeter over it and take on the appearance of a white-collar sacrifice. He finally released her hands, a smile beaming over his features. “We’ve all heard about your husband’s return, and we’re simply overjoyed for you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Simms.”

“In fact”—Mr. Simms’s eyes twinkled with what must have been at an earlier stage in his life a touch of deviltry—“I’m rather surprised to see you here today.”

“Yes.” Kim tried to chuckle along with his little joke. “Well, uh, you see, Mr. Simms, I came today because I’d like to take a little time off.”

“Of course! Of course!” He clucked sympathetically. “Tell me, how is…Brian—isn’t it—doing?”

“Just fine, Mr. Simms.”

“Well, that’s wonderful. I just hope he keeps standing up to it all when the pressure starts.”

Kim frowned. “Pressure, sir?”

“Well, of course, my dear. You must already know that he will soon be hounded by the press and the talk shows et cetera. Generally people know that several thousand Americans are still missing in Vietnam. But when a man actually comes home—a man who was already proclaimed dead at that!—you can bet there is going to be a lot of interest.”

Kim stood up suddenly, feeling a little ill. How was Brian going to stand up to all that pressure when he wouldn’t even talk to her?

“Mr. Simms, thank you for your concern, and thank you for understanding my need for time. I’ve spoken with Lacey Hart about taking charge of the photography department while I’m gone, and I think you’ll find her an excellent worker. Oh, umm, Mr. Simms, Lacey has had problems working with David Harris. I sympathize with her because although I know he’s a tremendous account executive, I also know he can be difficult. And I still believe Lacey should be the one in charge. If something should come up, could you make sure the two don’t wind up in a costly clash?”

Mr. Simms, a man who lived by the golden rule and was amazed with a sweet naïveté when others didn’t, frowned deeply, crinkling his attractive but age-worn face. “What’s the real problem there, Kimberly?”

“Nothing,” Kim said hastily, certain that David Harris would never contradict her. “Conflicting personalities.”

“All right,” Mr. Simms said. “I’ll keep my eyes on that duo.”

Kim thanked him again and left the office, grimacing. She was certain that if Lacey wanted, she could take a case of sexual harassment into the courts. But Lacey didn’t want that, nor, Kim mused, did most working women. They simply wanted to be able to come to work each day and not be hassled. In Lacey’s case, she had had an affair with David, and her marriage, a good one, if not perfect, might be sacrificed.

She headed straight for the studio. David was already there. He had taken up wearing ascots, Kim noticed, despite the constant heat of summer.

Kim walked up to her office Canon, already set on the tripod. She checked the glazed ham on the table through the lens and decided Lacey had set up the shot just right: The lighting was perfect, as was her choice of film.

She lifted her eye from the camera. She didn’t offer a “good morning” but smiled as she crossed her arms and stared at David. “This is a perfect shot, Mr. Harris. Why were you giving my photographer a hard time?”

He returned her smile, undaunted. “It wasn’t perfect last time. You can see the shots yourself if you wish. They are terrible.”

Kim’s smile became grim. “I don’t intend to change the original setups today,” she told him.

They ignored each other as Kim shot two rolls of film. She began to hurry a bit as she moved in for the closer ups; it was getting close to twelve.

“I hope, these are better,” Harris told her as she handed him the film canisters for the darkroom. “Perhaps you should do the developing now yourself. My client is already displeased with the delay.”

“Sorry, I have a lunch date.”

David laughed. It was unpleasant, designed to ridicule. “Hubby just got back, and you’re in to work already. And meeting him for lunch. Kim, you are priceless. One would have thought…oh, well, I guess a woman in her thirties…”