Hideaway (18 page)

His world tilted, careened, and he gave into the hot tides of love and passion sweeping him out to a sea of bright lights and weightlessness. He was afraid to open his eyes to look up at Parris; stunned by the raw sensuousness she had offered him and afraid of the power she wielded and what she would do if she ever realized it. He never thought he would fear a woman—especially if that woman was his wife.

P
arris had been married a month when she sat at her husband’s desk in the offices of ColeDiz signing a stack of papers.

Signing the documents signaled a change. It was the last day in the first month of the new year; it was Martin’s fortieth birthday; warm winter temperatures had vanished, leaving the early mornings and late nights cool and crisp, and all traces of the Christmas holidays had vanished, the decorations and the parties.

Her neat signature and the date glided across the last document: Parris S. Cole, January thirty-first. “That should do it.”

The pale, wiry attorney pushed the documents into a leather portfolio. “Thank you, Mrs. Cole. I believe everything’s in order. I’ll file the necessary papers to change your daughter’s name in the morning, and I’ll call the real estate agent in New York for a date to finalize the sale of your property.”

Martin fingered a sterling silver letter opener. “Thanks, Phil.” He smiled at the man who headed the corporate legal department. Normally one of the associate attorneys would have done the legwork, but this was too personal to entrust to someone other than Philip Trent. “After you return from New York, why don’t you take a few weeks off. I heard you had a good time in Costa Rica.”

Philip Trent blushed, then blanched. He ran a hand over his neatly brushed light brown hair. He offered Martin a weak smile.
“No thanks, Martin. It was too hot…” He glanced over at Parris, unable to complete his statement.

Martin steepled his fingers to his mouth, hiding a grin. “Was it the heat or the women, Phil?” The middle-aged bachelor’s golden-brown eyes were downcast as he rushed out of the office, Martin’s laughter following his stiff back.

“Martin!” Parris couldn’t believe his teasing the obviously embarrassed attorney.

Martin stood up. “Let’s go, honey. I don’t want to be late for my birthday celebration.”

“Do I have time to change?” she asked, watching him slip on his suit jacket.

Martin examined the lightweight navy blue wool suit she had paired with a gold silk blouse. “You look beautiful,” he murmured, his arms curving around her waist.

“If I wore nothing you’d say the same thing.”

“Wrong, Mrs. Cole. I wouldn’t say anything, but I sure would
do
something.”

Picking up her handbag, Parris walked out of Martin’s office, smiling at his secretary. Joan Shaw returned her smile.

Things were progressing quickly. Regina’s name would be changed from Simmons to Cole, her apartment had a buyer and Martin was to officially announce his candidacy for the gubernatorial race that evening. All that remained was finding a house she wanted to live in. She’d refused to think as far as the next January when they could possibly live in Tallahassee instead of Fort Lauderdale.

The number of cars crowding the garages and driveway indicated many of the guests had already arrived at the Cole residence by the time Parris and Martin returned to the house. Aside from family members, selected members of the press had been invited.

“Give me fifteen minutes, and I’ll be down,” Parris flung over her shoulder at Martin as she raced up the stairs to their suite.

It took only ten minutes for her to apply a fresh coat of lipstick, buff the shine off her nose and change into a pale peach wool
sheath with a squared neckline. She hadn’t bothered to change the navy blue lizard pumps.

Reporters and photographers mingled with family members as they huddled together in small groups, talking quietly. The light of twin chandeliers in the large living room gleamed like jewels as serving carts were rolled in, filled with crudités and beverages.

Martin’s candidacy had been a well-kept secret. Only a few were privy to his plans, and Parris suspected the press was in for quite a shock.

Martin had joined his father’s company at twenty-five, taken over as president at thirty, and now at forty was ready to enter politics. What would he, she thought, want at fifty? Sixty? When was too much ambition dangerous?

“He’s going to be a tough act to follow,” David remarked near Parris’s ear. He leaned over, kissing her cheek.

“Don’t try to be Martin,” she suggested. “Just be David Cole.”

“A major in music and a minor in business doesn’t quite prepare me to assume control of ColeDiz International,” he admitted, smiling his lopsided grin.

Parris stared at David’s wavy hair laying heavily on his wide shoulders covered in black silk. The long hair and black attire would soon become a part of his past when Martin officially resigned. Being lead singer and drummer for Night Mood would soon become a sparkling memory for David. Memories he would one day relate to his children.

David ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back off his forehead. “Dad doesn’t like this, but there’s little he could do once Martin decided to go ahead with his plan. He hates politicians. He says he doesn’t trust them.”

“He’ll change his mind once Martin’s elected.”

“Let’s hope you’re right…” David broke off as he caught the eye of an attractive photographer who stared openly at him from across the room. “Excuse me, Parris. I think I see someone I know.”

All conversation ceased, and Parris turned to find Joshua Kirkland leaning against the arched entrance. A myriad of expressions crossed the faces of the Coles.

Parris was stunned by their reaction. Why were they treating Martin’s friend like a leper? She broke the spell, walking across the room and holding out her hands to him. The uncomfortable silence ended once the low babble of voices started up again.

“Hello again, Joshua.”

He took her hands. His smile was cold, not reaching his eyes. “Nice to see you, too, Parris.”

Martin came over to join them. He grasped Joshua’s hand firmly. “Now that you’re here, we can begin.”

Samuel Cole waited until there was complete silence. His snow-white hair and eyebrows were an attractive contrast to his rich sienna-brown coloring. Brilliant dark eyes flashed like burning coals in his lean, sculpted face. “I’d like to offer a toast to my son.” He extended a glass filled with an amber-colored liquid. “May the next forty years bring you everything you could ever wish for in your life on this earth. It is not often a man can achieve perfection in his lifetime.” Pride flowed from the dark eyes under thick bushy white eyebrows. “I’m proud to say that I’ve come close to it. You, Martin, have helped me to gain that measure of perfection.”

Martin acknowledged his father’s praise with a nod. His right arm curved around Parris’s waist and she could feel his excitement. He nodded at his mother, giving her a warm smile.

M.J. returned a matching dimpled smile. It was her turn to speak. Her voice was soft and very controlled. There was just a hint of a lingering accent. “Martin is very special to me. Not only because he is my first born, but because he taught me how special motherhood can be. So special I repeated it another three times,” she added, a touch of color staining her cheeks.

Parris laughed with the others present. Juliana and Nancy offered their toasts to their older brother, unable to conceal their love and admiration.

Appearing before an audience was nothing new for David, and he waited until he felt the pull of everyone’s attention. “To my older and slightly used brother. Now that you’re no longer available for the single women, may I please have your black book?”

All laughed at his sorrowful expression and plea. David Cole had amassed groupies everywhere he traveled.

Martin winked at David. “Sorry to disappoint you, kid. I never had a black book. If she was worth seeing again I always memorized her number.”

Then Parris felt the attention directed at her. She knew it was time for her to offer a toast to her husband. Her gaze was fixed on his face, mentally telegraphing her deep feelings. His midnight eyes seemed to draw her into him, and she felt as if he’d devoured her soul. Hypnotically, he seemed to trap her within his mind, and the words fell unbidden from her lips.

“To Martin—my husband. The man who has given me the freedom to be myself and the freedom to love freely. I’m willing to share my life, my dreams and your destiny with you. Happy birthday, darling.” His face swam before her eyes, then his mouth covered hers in a quick, demanding kiss.

Joshua, who had not attended a Cole birthday celebration in the past, raised his glass to deliver his toast. A light gray jacket hung elegantly from his shoulders, tapering at his narrow waist. He gave each person a penetrating stare, then spoke.

“To Martin, the man to whom I entrust my life.” He paused briefly, staring at Martin. “I’d like to put Governor Eliot Howard and his corrupt administration on notice. Start looking for a new place to live next January. Ladies and gentlemen—Martin Diaz Cole, the next governor of Florida.”

Parris lost track of the number of times she heard Governor Eliot Howard’s name mentioned once Martin had announced his candidacy. The activities of his corrupt administration had become the topic of all dinner table conversation. The list of allegations against the incumbent governor were endless: bribery, kickbacks, theft of services, patronage jobs and blackmail.

Parris had come to hate her role as candidate’s wife and the race itself. She had come to loathe both when she noted Martin was coming home later and later each night. This night was no different as she lay in bed, waiting for him.

She had dozed off but came awake the moment he slipped into bed beside her. Her body stiffened as he curved an arm over her waist. Glancing at the clock on the beside table, her jaw tightened. It was three-ten.

“Why did you bother to come home?” Her voice was low and vibrating with repressed rage.

“Parris…”

“Don’t!” she said, cutting him off. “Don’t give me excuses, Martin. And dammit, don’t mention Eliot Howard’s name.”

“Parris,” he began again, “I’m sorry.”

Sitting up, she turned on a lamp. “You’re not sorry, Martin.”

He sat up, the sheet falling down around his waist, appearing larger and darker in the muted light. He ran a large hand over his face. “What do you want me to say? What do you want me to do?”

Pulling her knees to her chest, Parris rested her forehead on her folded arms. “I want a husband, Martin. And I want a father for Regina. She sees you less than I do. When she gets up and leaves for school you’re gone, and when she goes to bed at night you’re still gone.

“I want out of this house,” she continued. Raising her head, she glared at him. “I want my own home. You promised that I could buy a house—anywhere. We’ve been married for more than two months and I’m still living under your parents’ roof.”

Reaching out, he pulled her forcibly to his side, burying his face against her breasts. The stubble of whiskers on his chin scraped her tender flesh. “I’ll cancel a meeting I have tonight and the three of us will go out for dinner. And as soon as I can clear my calendar I’ll take a few days off and we’ll go house hunting.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Martin,” she warned.

“I promise,” he groaned, increasing his grip on her body.

Parris lay in his arms, her gaze on the ceiling. She didn’t believe him. “Go to sleep, Martin.”

Martin registered the coldness in her voice. He released her and settled back to his pillow. She reached over and turned off the lamp.

Both lay, their backs to each other, motionless. It was the third time that week since they had ever shared a bed that they slept without touching.

Martin read the written notice on his desk at his campaign office:
Tonight’s meeting cannot be rescheduled
. He cursed violently under his breath. He wouldn’t be able to have dinner with Parris and Regina.

Picking up the telephone, he called Parris. Other than her greeting when she picked up the receiver there was silence from her. He told her he couldn’t cancel his meeting and she hung up. He listened to the droning dial tone until an ear-piercing sound came through the instrument forcing him to hang up.

“You tell me if it’s worth it, Josh?”

Joshua continued his perusal of the typed data on the desk, checking off a listing of contributors. “Is what worth it?” He answered Martin’s question with one of his own.

“Losing Parris.”

Joshua’s head came up quickly with the mention of her name. What he had suspected was finally confirmed. Martin’s lackadaisical approach to the campaign was beginning to worry him. He had neglected to comment about it because he knew intuitively Martin would confide in him.

“Has she threatened to leave you,” he questioned in his direct manner.

Martin covered his face with his hands, then ran a hand over his gray-streaked hair. “No, she hasn’t,” he confessed. The words slipped out slowly. “She doesn’t have to leave me to shut me out of her life. This past week has been a living hell for me, Joshua.”

He closed his eyes, seemingly trying to erase the image of Parris’s closed expression whenever he slipped into bed with her only hours before dawn. “We’re two strangers who happen to share a bed. She calls me a stranger, and she’s right. There’s no argument I can invent to make it any different.”

Joshua had pledged his support to Martin, and all Martin knew was winning. Neither of them knew how to lose.

O
wen Lawson. It was late March when Parris saw him. He was impeccably attired and wearing his usual dark glasses to shade his eyes from the sun and the world.

“Go, Mommy!” Regina urged. “Everyone’s honking at you.”

He hadn’t seen her as he crossed the street and entered a building, but it still did not matter as his name and face followed Parris on her trip from West Palm Beach to Fort Lauderdale to look at a house.

Her gaze followed the road; seeing and not seeing.

Since her return to Florida, Parris discovered Owen had retired from the police force, remarried and was the father of two young boys; sons who could have been theirs if they had stayed together.

“I’m hungry, Mommy,” Regina whined.

“We’ll eat later,” she mumbled. She couldn’t look at the child sitting next to her.

Regina fidgeted with her seat belt. “I’m thirsty, too.”

“Please, Regina.” She couldn’t argue. Perspiration had soaked her blouse and cotton pullover. Parris alternated wiping her wet palms on her jeans whenever her fingers slipped from the steering wheel. The fear was like a cobra, coiled, poised and ready to strike.

“After we see the house, we’ll get something to eat,” she stated, hoping Regina didn’t register the quivering in her voice.

“I want a steak.”

Parris took her eyes off the road, glancing quickly at her daughter’s animated features. “I thought you and your father decided it was going to be pizza.” Neither of them were dressed for a fancy restaurant.

Regina clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oops. I forgot.” She picked up the book on her lap and began reading. Knowing they were going out for pizza temporarily assuaged her thirst and hunger.

The structure was an architect’s masterpiece.

“Is this where we’re going to live, Mommy?”

Parris held Regina’s hand, leading her up the flagstone path to the opened front door. “Yes,” she replied confidently. She loved the house even without seeing the interior. The smooth lines and free and easy spaces of the beach front house went beyond her imagination.

“Martin?” Her voice carried and echoed in the entryway.

“I’m in the back,” came his reply.

Regina ran through the living room. “Where are you, Daddy?”

Parris moved slowly as she stared up at the high-ceiling entry and more than fifty square feet of livingroom space. She wandered through a full-size ultra modern kitchen and several bedrooms with adjoining baths. Glass walls along the rear of the house afforded an idyllic view of the Atlantic Ocean.

“How do you like it?” Martin asked when she found him in the master bedroom.

“I love it.” Her smile mirrored her approval. “How did you ever find it?”

“A guy at the campaign office told me about it.”

Parris wound an arm through his. Her tongue flicked over his moustache. “Thank him for me,” she crooned.

Martin frowned. He pulled her to his chest. “Not like that I hope.”

“Where’s my room, Daddy?”

Martin peered over Parris’s head, smiling at Regina. “Which one do you want?”

“One where I can see the water.”

“Take the one next to this one. After you see everything, then we’ll go out and have that pizza you wanted.”

Regina wrinkled her nose. “What’s all that stuff?”

Martin used a plastic fork, pointing out the toppings on the pie. “Mushroom, green pepper, onion, sausage, black olive, pepperoni, anchovy and garlic.”

“Ughh-h garlic!”

“Before you turn up your nose, young lady, why don’t you taste it,” he suggested to Regina.

Regina shook her head. “It looks yucky.”

Martin reached over, taking her slice. “I guess there will be more for me.”

“Daddy!”

Martin gave Regina a long look. His stomach made a flip-flop motion when he noted the tears in her eyes. She was so delicate, vulnerable, and he found, like her mother, he couldn’t deny her anything. Without realizing it, he had spoiled her.

“What if I order a slice with only cheese?”

Regina’s smile was radiant. “Thanks, Daddy.”

Martin motioned to the waitress and ordered two slices with extra cheese. He glanced down at his daughter as she inched closer to him, her cheek resting against his arm. He pulled her onto his lap, cradling her head to his chest. He had to hold her close because within two months he was scheduled to begin his campaign tour and she would be left behind.

Since he had announced his candidacy, the pace had accelerated to where he was spending as much time with his political strategists as he did in his office at ColeDiz. David had cancelled his personal appearances with Night Mood to study policy and procedures for the holding companies yet Martin hadn’t felt confident enough to let go of the reins of ColeDiz and transfer complete responsibility to David.

Parris kissing him that afternoon was the first display of affection she had shown him in weeks although they continued to share a bed; they existed like married strangers.

She had accused him of becoming a stranger and that she didn’t know him anymore, and he knew she was right. Taking two days off to look for houses did not remedy his frequent absences, but he had to make the attempt. He would do anything to recapture the love and warmth missing in his marriage.

“Not only is she back, but she has a child. You told me she was dead.”

“I didn’t tell you she was dead. I told you she was gone.”

“I pay you to do exactly what I tell you to do. Now I want her dead!”

“What about the kid?”

“Forget about the kid. Just take care of the mother.”

“Do you want her taken care of out of the state?”

“I want her dead. I don’t care if you kill her in front of thousands in Disney World! I want her d-e-a-d.”

“Killing her this time should be a lot easier, sir.”

“That’s what you told me the last time.”

“This time I won’t miss,” the man with the prominent vein in his forehead promised.

He hung up and cursed, violent, savage expletives. That little frog-voiced weasel told him Parris Simmons was never coming back to Florida. Well, she was back and with her kid! Damn! He couldn’t get the weasel to try again because she might recognize his face. He had to plan everything very carefully. It was only a matter of time before Martin Cole would find himself a widower
.

Parris dug her bare feet into the plush softness of the creamy short shag carpeting. With the installation of the carpets, another phase of her decorating project had been completed. The walls were done two days before, and with the window dressing and the delivery of furniture she would finalize her decorating the immense and exceptionally beautiful place she was to call home.

It had been too many years since she created spaces for her personal lifestyle, and she had forgotten the flutter of excitement when she surveyed the harmonizing of colors and textures. Soft shades of sand beige with a touch of mauve on the walls created
a cool effect in the living and dining areas. High, wood-beamed ceilings would allow for hot air to rise high above the carpeted floors and light from a clerestory window illuminated the open expanse of the dining room.

She had elected to decorate the rooms in neutral colors to produce an appearance of coolness of the interiors during the long hot summer season.

Her regular trips to the house after Regina left for school gave her a temporary respite from her silent war with Martin.

She sank down to the carpeted floor and bit down on her lower lip. Just when she thought her life had formed some semblance of order it was going to be torn asunder with their being catapulted into the media’s spotlight with Martin’s upcoming public appearances.

The sound of a car’s engine brought her to her feet. She was surprised to see Joshua striding up the path. She hadn’t seen him since the night when he’d made his announcement of her husband’s candidacy.

His cold gaze swept over her bare feet, faded jeans and oversized khaki shirt. “I want to talk to you.”

His command slapped at her, and she bristled. “Did Martin send you?”

He leaned against the door, arms folded over his chest. “This visit is my idea.”

“Then why don’t you wait for an invitation.”

“Don’t play cat and mouse games with me,
Mrs. Cole
. I want to know why you’re behaving like a spoiled child instead of the woman you’re supposed to be?”

Parris’s temper flared and she turned her back. “Get out!”

Joshua closed the distance, capturing her arm and spinning her around. His eyes were devoid of color and Parris couldn’t control her fear. Joshua Kirkland had shown her what few saw—rage.

“Don’t you know what you’re doing to your husband? Are you bent on destroying the man—piece by piece, day by day? When November arrives there’ll be nothing left for Governor Howard to defeat. Does it give you a sick thrill to know that you can ruin
Martin only because you don’t agree with him? Don’t you know that you have more power over Martin than the highest elected official in the state. You outrank the governor, Parris!”

Her jaw jerked spasmodically before she was able to get the words out, her rage matching his. “Don’t you dare speak to me of something you know nothing about. If I choose not to go along with everyone’s scheme to make Martin the dragon-slayer when he defeats the most corrupt governor this state has ever elected, that’s
my
business. And I won’t allow you or anyone else to question my motives.”

“He needs your support, Parris!” Joshua ranted, his face becoming a mask of fury.

Parris tried escaping his punishing hold on her arm. “Take your hand off me.” He released her. “He doesn’t need my support when everyone in his family and
you
are helping him.”

Joshua took a deep breath. “You’re the only one who matters, Parris. Don’t you know by now how Martin feels about you?” he asked in a softer tone.

“You’re wrong, Joshua. Martin may love me, but he needs me more. I know he needs to dispel his playboy image with a wife and child.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. Martin’s image is not an issue. He hasn’t even begun to tour the state and already he’s ready to quit. Quit because of you.” He registered the quickening of the pulse in her throat. “Since we’ve issued the press release, money and verbal support have been pouring in from all over Florida. Bumper stickers, campaign buttons and posters have been printed and distributed, while campaign headquarters are being mobilized in every county from Dade to Escambia. For the first time in Florida’s history an Independent Party candidate has a chance of winning the gubernatorial. Meanwhile Martin is talking about dropping out.”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Why no?”

Closing her eyes, Parris chewed her lower lip. “Martin doesn’t give up that easily,” she whispered.

A knowing smile softened Joshua’s features. “Now, we’re back to square one, Parris. You hold the key. When are you going to tell Martin you’re ready to help him? And that you’re willing to make the personal appearance that’s required of a candidate’s wife?”

“I’m scared to death,” she confessed as Joshua reached out, pulling her to his chest. “When I think of the crowds and the reporters, all I envision is running away and hiding.”

In a nightmare she saw the face of her abductor in a crowd, leering and waiting. “For Martin this is easy.” She blinked back the tears forming behind her eyelids. “I need my privacy, Joshua. Martin’s isn’t offering me a choice when he expects me to follow him all over the state smiling and speaking when I least want to. It’s unfair.”

Joshua’s fingers caressed her back in a comforting gesture. “There’s no shame in admitting you’re afraid,” he replied softly.

Raising her tear-filled eyes, Parris stared up at him. There was something about this man that said he feared nothing or no one. “I can’t believe you’d ever be afraid of anything,” she said, smiling.

His eyes glowed with a strange fire. “There are some things that frighten me, but I try to conquer the fear and not have it conquer me.”

She wanted to believe him. She’d been trying for years to conquer her fear. “Will you help me?” she asked timidly.

“That’s why I’m here, Parris. I’m here to help you and Martin.” What he didn’t say was that he was there to protect her.

Cupping her face in his palms, he kissed her forehead. “I’ll make certain you’ll come through this with passing grades. In the end, we’ll all be winners.”

“I don’t want to be in any stupid play,” Regina stated, pouting.

“But, Mrs. Adams is counting on you, Regina,” Parris coaxed. “The spring play is a very important event at the school.”

Regina pushed out her lower lip. “I don’t want to be the old queen. I want to be Alice.”

Parris picked up one of her daughter’s braids and wound it around her finger. The curling ends spread out like black velvet.
“Regina,” she began patiently. “We’ve gone over this before. Beth is going to be Alice…”

“Only because she has blond hair,” Regina countered. “I have to be the queen because I have black hair.”

“That’s not the reason, angel. Mrs. Adams selected you to be queen because you were the best when you said ‘off with her head.’ You were very dramatic.”

Regina’s eyes brightened with pride. “Did Mrs. Adams say that?”

“That’s what she told me,” Parris confirmed, breathing somewhat easier now that Regina warmed to the idea of playing the queen in
Alice in Wonderland
. “She said you’re a very talented little actress.”

Regina clapped her hands. “Maybe I’ll be an actress.”

Parris laughed, pulling her close and kissing her cheek. “What happened to becoming a scientist?”

Regina reached up, piling her braids atop her head like a crown. “I’d rather play a queen and give orders to chop off heads,” she drawled in an authoritative tone.

She had been appropriately named Regina: the queen. “Well, Your Highness, off to bed with you.”

“Good night, Mommy.” Regina squeezed her mother’s neck, leaving a moist kiss on her cheek. She settled down to the pillow, cradling her arms over her head. A slight smile touched her lips. Within minutes, she was asleep.