Read JAKrentz - Uneasy Alliance Online
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JAKrentz - Uneasy Alliance (4 page)
She nodded, not knowing what else to say as he named the new continental restaurant that had just opened near the landmark hotel in
"Good night, Abby," he said softly.
"Good night, Torr."
He dropped his hands from her and she felt cool. It made her realize how enveloped she had been by the warmth of his body when he had been standing close. Without a word he turned to go and then his gaze fell on a colorful brochure lying on the kitchen counter.
Abby bit her lip as he picked up the pamphlet advertising a resort on the
"Planning a vacation?" he asked mildly.
"No!" she answered quickly, too quickly. "No, I stayed there for a weekend a couple of months ago. They sent out some advertising, I guess, and I was on their mailing list."
"You went to the coast during the winter?"
"It's very lovely in winter," she told him flatly.
"I agree," he nodded, dropping the brochure back on the counter. "Perhaps we—" He snapped off the words quickly, apparently realizing he was about to go too far. "I'll see you tomorrow evening at seven, Abby."
"Yes." Abby stared at the brochure as it fell from his fingers. "At seven."
She locked the door very carefully behind him and then she went back into the kitchen and picked up the brochure. The
With grim care Abby tore it in several tiny pieces. It would be a long time before she returned to the
The only logical explanation for that advertisement arriving in her mail this afternoon was that the resort was sending out such brochures to all former guests.
But even as she gave herself that argument for the thousandth time since the mail had arrived, Abby knew a sense of dread. She had been pushing it to the back of her mind all evening, but now it emerged to haunt her.
She would have felt far more certain of her conviction if the brochure had been contained in an envelope carrying the letterhead of the resort. But it hadn't. The pamphlet had been stuffed into a plain white envelope and addressed on a typewriter. There was no return address of any kind.
As she undressed for bed, Abby's thoughts were chaotic, torn between images of a strong, intense man who signed up for classes in Japanese flower arrangement and memories of a weekend in winter that she wanted desperately to forget.
S
he had accused him of appreciating subtlety but in truth he had been anything but subtle this evening. As a result he'd nearly ruined everything. Hell, Torr thought a little savagely as he guided the BMW up the winding hillside overlooking
Actually, he realized, he wasn't altogether certain why he had so completely abandoned his normal restraint. But something had happened to him tonight when he'd finally acknowledged that he wanted Abby Lyndon. It was as if, having accepted the inevitable, he had simply decided to grab it with both hands.
He'd been a fool, no doubt about it. He should have taken everything much more slowly. Well, he'd been able to recover enough ground to salvage another date. That was something, at least, he told himself derisively. But he was very lucky she hadn't panicked altogether. What had made her so nervous of him, he wondered. She'd been quite friendly in class.
It had something to do with his need to be certain she was free. It was after he'd asked the crucial question that she'd really begun to withdraw. Perhaps it was because she wasn't altogether free.
Had she spent that weekend on the coast alone two months ago? Maybe she had just terminated a relationship and that was the reason she was fearful of plunging directly into another affair.
The questions spun around his head as he drove with automatic precision. The houses perched on the hillside on either side of the road appeared cozy and welcoming, their windows warm with lights. His own was going to be dark. Torr hadn't bothered to leave a light on to welcome himself home.
One thing was for certain, he reassured himself. She couldn't know enough about his past to be really afraid of him. Not yet. Not ever, if he had his way. It was something else that was disturbing her. Had something he said reminded her of another man? The one she'd gone to the coast with two months before?
His blunt fingers stretched and then gripped the wheel with a force that Torr didn't even notice. He would like very much to get his hands on the man who had made Abby so wary.
I
t was the
mixed signals she was getting from him that were making it difficult to deal with Torr Latimer, Abby concluded the next evening as she dressed for their date. The impression of strength, for example, was at once reassuring and intimidating. She experienced an instinctive sensation of being protected by it on the one hand, while on the other, her past had taught her to be distrustful of physical strength.
If he hadn't started making demands, asking about the other men in her life, wanting to know if she was free, she might have found herself letting the kiss go much further than it had. Abby faced the reality of that as she slipped the sleek, body-hugging knit dress over her head.
The dress, a silvery blue, highlighted her honey-colored hair loosely arranged in a topknot and her blue eyes. Not cornflower blue or gentian blue, Abby decided with a flicker of humor as she remembered Torr's efforts to liken her to a flower the previous evening.
It had been rather flattering, actually, especially since she didn't consider her features as a model of flowerlike beauty. The wide blue eyes, tip-tilted nose and expressive mouth went together in a reasonably attractive fashion, but Abby didn't kid herself that there was any riveting beauty underlying the whole.
There was, however, a vivid animation marking her face of which Abby remained unaware. One seldom smiled, talked to or otherwise visited with oneself in a mirror. Mirrors were for studying an unnaturally quiet version of oneself. As a result the image in the mirror remained, for Abby, at least, merely reasonably attractive. The warmth and intelligent energy that were a fundamental part of her were usually left for others of a discerning nature to discover. There had been men in the past who had responded to the total effect Abby created, but not since Flynn Randolph had she allowed one to get close.
The night before, her response to the grimly quiet man from the flower-arranging class had startled Abby. It was part of the disturbingly double messages she was trying to interpret. She frowned at herself, her brows knitting into a severe line as she applied a coral lipstick. Torr Latimer was not the sort of man she would have expected to respond to so swiftly. On the other hand, as she kept reminding herself, she had met him in a class on flower arrangement!
That thought brought a reluctant smile to her face as she turned away from the mirror to answer the demanding clamor of her doorbell. Torr was right on time, showing a promptness that didn't surprise her in the least. She had had a hunch he was the precise, punctual type.
He was also, she realized as she opened the door, every bit as unsettling and intimidating tonight as he had been the night before. The dark suit he wore was set off by a formal white shirt adorned with a conservative tie and small cuff links. Real gold cuff links, Abby noted with a flash of annoyance. Was he rich?
"Something wrong?" he asked politely as she continued to stare up at him. "Did I use the wrong knot on the tie?"
She shook her head, breaking the small spell, and stood back to let him inside. "No, of course not. I was just wondering if you were rich. Watch out for that stack of panthothenic-acid tablets. I just got a new shipment in today."
"Does it matter?" Torr avoided the uneven stack of green-and-gold boxes piled just inside the door.
"If you hit the tablets? Not to me. You're the one who'd have to pick them up and restack them," she answered, grinning wryly.
"I meant would it matter if I'm rich?" he said patiently.
"Well, I usually don't date men who might be a great deal more successful than I am," she explained honestly.
"If you like, we can compare bank balances over dinner," he murmured, amber eyes gleaming as he surveyed her slender figure in the close-fitting blue dress. "Although, I have to admit the topic doesn't sound particularly exciting."
"It might if it turned out I was a lot richer than you," she suggested blithely, moving away to collect her black leather trench coat.
"Do you think you might be?"
"No," she replied, sighing.
"You're really wary of rich men?"
"I'm cautious."
"I think you're cautious about every sort of man." He held the door for her. "Someday you'll have to tell me why."
"You haven't answered my question."
"About being rich?" He lifted one shoulder negligently as he took her arm. "That's a relative situation, don't you think? How do I know what you'd consider rich?"
She was silent as they rode the elevator downstairs and walked through the lobby. "You're not going to answer the question, are you?" she finally demanded shrewdly.
"Not now. No."
"Which means you probably are rich," she groaned.
"I asked you not to make snap judgments last night," he reminded her as he escorted her out to the waiting BMW.
"I'm not the only one who has that problem," she pointed out as he slid into the seat beside her. "You made some pretty fast judgments yourself last night."
"Deciding that I wanted to go to bed with you wasn't a snap judgment." He switched on the ignition and pulled away from the curb with efficient skill. "I'd been watching you create those wild hopelessly chaotic flower arrangements for three weeks before I realized that it was the creator of the arrangements and not the designs themselves which appealed to me."
"I'm not sure I should find that flattering." Abby's mouth lifted irrepressibly at the corners. "I mean if it took you three weeks to realize it was me instead of the flowers you wanted to date…"
"I tend to make my mind up slowly and carefully," he admitted.
"I thought people who traded commodities had to make quick decisions all the time."
"I made the basic decision to get into commodities only after a lot of deliberation. Once into them I was committed. The trading part is a combination of skill and luck—just like any other business. I'm relatively good at business. After the basic decision of whether or not to trade has been made, the other judgments don't require a lot of meditation. One just does what has to be done in order to be successful."
"So now I'm a business decision? I think I prefer the flower analogy," Abby quipped, beginning to enjoy the sparring.
He shot her a quick, assessing glance before returning his attention to his driving. "Are you deliberately baiting me, Abby?"
"Perhaps. Does it annoy you?"
"No. I consider it a good sign. If you're trying to provoke me, you must not be terribly afraid of me."
The serious remark was irritating, Abby discovered. "I'm not sure I like being analyzed."
"There are a lot of things you don't like, aren't there?" he observed casually as he pulled into another tiny curb-side parking space. The man had a talent for parking cars in nonexistent spaces, Abby had to admit to herself.
"A woman is entitled to a few opinions," she declared regally.
"And a man is entitled to try to change her mind on occasion," he responded with a grim little smile that barely shaped his mouth.
"Are you often successful?" she challenged as she allowed him to guide her into the plush, dimly lit restaurant.
"I rarely make the effort to change a woman's mind."
"Should I be flattered?"
"It's not a question of flattery," he explained precisely.
"I had a feeling it wouldn't be." Laughter lit her eyes as she glanced up at him. "More of a business decision perhaps?"
He stared down at her for a moment before answering. "I told you in the car that once I have come to a decision—slow and ponderous though the process may be—I do whatever is required to bring about a successful conclusion to the project. I've made my basic decision concerning you."
"Is that a warning?" Some of the amusement died in her eyes.
"No, Abby, it's a statement of fact. Take my advice and don't let it ruin your evening, though. We have hours and hours ahead of us. I'd hate to have you sulking through to the bitter end."
"I never sulk," she assured him tranquilly. Then she turned and smiled brilliantly at the approaching maître d', effectively cutting off the conversation.
They were led to an intimate booth, the table in front of them laid with gleaming silver and snowy linen. A low-voiced discussion between Torr and the wine steward went on for several minutes, and Abby used the opportunity to rummage about in her small evening bag for a couple of tablets.
Torr glanced at her just as she was popping them into her mouth. "More stress vitamins?"
"Calcium. Good for bones and teeth."
"Have you tried drinking more milk instead?" he asked laconically.
"I hate milk." She downed the tablets with several sips from the water goblet. Then she grinned. "I much prefer wine. What are we having tonight?"
"There's a new sauvignon blanc I've been curious about that's in from one of my favorite
"What smoked salmon and capers?"
"The smoked salmon and capers we're having as an appetizer," he spelled out calmly.
"I don't recall ordering an appetizer. I haven't even glanced at the menu!" Irritation at his presumption made her glare at him severely.
"Anyone who eats calcium tablets as an appetizer doesn't deserve to get a look at the menu. How many pills do you take a day?"
"I haven't counted," she told him frostily.
"Are you your own best customer?"
"Believe me, the various people who sell vitamins and minerals door-to-door for me have a lot of customers who take far more pills than I do!"
"And you can really make a living off of this, hmmm?" He eyed her reflectively. "Is that your only source of income?"
She sent him a speculative glance. "What's the matter? Do you normally only date rich women? Afraid I won't be able to keep you in the style to which you would like to become accustomed?"
"You are getting feisty, aren't you? A few more cracks like that and I might leave you with the tab for tonight's dinner," he advised her blandly.
"More threats?" she asked interestedly as the wine arrived.
"Abby, honey, I've already explained I don't issue threats or warnings. I merely make statements of fact." He accepted the sample of wine, taking a moment to savor it carefully. Then he nodded firmly. "I asked about your vitamin business because I was wondering if it's full time for you."
"My only source of income," she assured him cheerfully as the waiter finished pouring the wine and discreetly left. "Unless you want to count the shares of stock I inherited from my uncle."
"Shares in what company?" Torr lounged back comfortably and sipped his wine with appreciation.
"The one my uncle founded. Lyndon Technologies is based in
