Lone Tree (18 page)

“Can I get you anything?” Reed asked.

“Uh, no thanks.”

He headed for the punch bowl, and Lainie headed for
a chair. She felt like she’d gotten stuck in reverse and was backpedaling up a
hill.

He returned with two glasses of punch. “Brought you
one anyway. Looked like you could use it.”

“I do?” She giggled. “Yeah, guess so.” As she
drained the glass Reed watched her curiously.

Once he’d caught his breath, she’d found her poise
again, or at least she hoped she had. The band began a slow number; she
recognized the familiar strains of a popular ballad, and when Reed drew her
onto the floor she found no cause for concern. As he led, he somehow managed to
match his pace to hers and she followed easily. Paraphrasing his own words,
Reed was good enough he made Lainie look good.

As the yearning melody swirled around them, she
closed her eyes. They fit together so well. Softly rounded places tucked in so
nicely next to hard angles. They could have been the only couple on the floor,
the only two people in that part of Texas. When Reed’s arms lowered to her
waist and he locked his hands at the small of her back, she lifted her arms to
encircle his neck. But as dreamy as she felt, as much as she wanted to lose
herself in his arms, she wasn’t able to do so. A part of her just wouldn’t let
go.

When he pulled her yet closer, she realized she was
a little too comfortable. She reminded herself who she was, where she was, and
she tried to ease back. He didn’t let her. She frowned, continuing to press
back against his locked hands. A short stalemate followed, no one giving way,
then he exerted that little extra bit of pressure that drew her in another
inch.

She planted her feet, met his gaze head-on, put her
palms on his shoulders and pushed hard. Another stalemate. Then he gave her a
slight nod, a slighter smile, and his grip loosened. Lainie relaxed.

Around Reed’s shoulder, she caught sight of Miles at
the edge of the dance floor. He was involved with a group of men, but his
attention was on Reed and Lainie. He looked amused, and she felt conspicuous.

Then, barely giving her a chance to realize she’d
won, Reed showed her she hadn’t. Pulling her up hard against him, he gave her a
fast but thorough kiss full on the lips, then released her.

It took her a moment to orient herself. The touch of
his lips on hers had been quick, but had left an indelible impression. She
recovered enough to laugh, and then she leaned into him.

“It’s not bad enough that you’re bossy. You’ve got
rogue in you, too. I can’t win. I give up.” Which she did. She gave in to the
music, the mood, and Reed. She paid no more attention to how closely he held
her, or to Miles or Agnes or anyone else. But as content as she was within his
arms, she kept part of herself in reserve, and that part vowed that when the
party was over, she was going home alone.

The party broke up around midnight, and shortly
thereafter only a small group of men surrounding Miles were left who appeared
not yet ready to call it a night. But Lainie was. All she had to do was get out
of the house without being waylaid by Reed. He’d had her in his sights all
night, and she suspected that once she headed for the door, he’d beat her to
it.

She was helping Rosalie straighten up when she
noticed Reed being drawn into the group of men surrounding his boss. He appeared
reluctant, but she figured he’d be just as reluctant to be rude.

Now was her chance.

Rosalie reached for a stack of linen napkins, then
stopped and frowned. “What are we doing this for? The cleanup crew will be here
first thing in the morning. It’s their job.”

Lainie grinned. Talk about timing.

Rosalie walked away, shaking her head at her own
foolishness. “Goodnight.”

Lainie held a tray of cutlery and carried it to the
kitchen on her way. Reed would note she was busy, not that she was leaving.
Then when her house was dark and she didn’t answer her door, he’d realize she
wasn’t going to budge and he’d go on home.

She found an empty spot on the counter for the tray,
not envying the cleanup crew. This place needed a lot of cleanup.

“Hey.”

The softness in Reed’s voice made Lainie catch her
breath, and then she turned. He stepped forward. When she retreated, the wall
stopped her. “Uh, Reed...”

“Yes?”

She looked sideways at the door, heard a rustle of
movement and then a hand was placed on either side of her, pinning her in
without touching her. An effective positioning, reminiscent of that encounter
in the dining room, and she’d guessed then that she’d be faced with it again.
She looked into those mesmerizing eyes, only inches away.

Where, exactly, was that part of herself she’d been
holding in reserve? That was supposed to deal with exactly this kind of
situation?

“Reed...”

“Yes?”

She said nothing, just watched his mouth descend to
hers. She didn’t resist, instead closed her eyes and drank him in. He tasted
like chicory, and she wondered again, quite irrelevantly, how Texans could
drink so much coffee.

He’d grown beyond seductive, seemed aware of his
power over her, and he was mercilessly using it. Everything about him—his
mouth, his tongue, his roving hands that she for some reason wasn’t trying to
still—every part of him wanted her, and she knew it. And she wanted him. It
would be so easy, so easy...

Without conscious direction, her arms wrapped
themselves around him. He felt hard and solid and good, so good. Her mind was
trying to tell her something, but she paid no attention. His lips moved to her
eyelids, her forehead, back to her mouth. She was conscious of the sense of
touch alone. She pressed closer, wanting more, not getting enough. With a feather
touch, his hands worked their way back to her shoulders. His thumbs played with
the skinny straps of her blouse while his lips continued to tease her with
butterfly kisses. He was driving her crazy. She was going to have to hold his
head in place and kiss him the way she wanted to, the way she wanted him to
kiss her.

“Oh,” said a startled voice, and they both jumped.

“Oh,” Rosalie said again. She stood as if rooted in
the doorway. “I, uh...” Her pained gaze traveled to the counter and she gave it
an apologetic nod. “Just wanted to make sure the coffee pot was turned off.”

Three people looked at the guilty coffee maker. Reed
was closest to it so stepped to the counter and flicked the switch off.

“It is now.” His voice was husky.

When Rosalie turned to leave, Lainie took a ragged
breath. “Wait.”

Each person’s attention settled on her. Rosalie
clearly wanted to go, and as fast as she could get out of there. Reed’s face
displayed suspicion, then frustration, and finally exasperation.

“Goodnight,” Lainie said to him, and he just stared
at her. Her voice sounded small even to her own ears.

“Goodnight,” she said again, more firmly.

His jaw set, took on the look of granite.

Rosalie fidgeted. Lainie waited.

Then finally Reed’s head bobbed once in a very...slow...nod.
“So you won another one,” he said under his breath. “But no way, Lainie Sue,
are you going to win them all.” He turned on his heel.

“Excuse me,” Rosalie said as he passed her.

“I’ll work on it,” he said without stopping.

The two women watched each other as his boot heels
clicked down the hall.

“Thanks,” Lainie said.

Rosalie raised her palms and stared at the ceiling.
“How did I get stuck in the middle?”

*

Three days later, sitting at her kitchen table,
Jackie placed a double-four domino block at the end of the trey-four and sat
back with the air of a job well done.

Lainie focused on the blocks, adding the count, and
Jackie shook her head. “Nineteen. What was that going on between you and Reed
on the dance floor the other night?”

“Huh?” Lainie snapped her head up. “There was
nothing going on between us.”

Jackie grinned, and Lainie frowned.

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking
about,” Lainie said precisely. She wondered if Jackie and Rosalie had been
communicating. “We were dancing. Period.”

“Strangest-looking dance I ever saw. And what are
you turnin’ all red for?”

“I’m not.” Then she contradicted herself. “You’d
make anyone turn red.” She studied her dominoes, tried to remember whose turn
it was.

“I don’t understand you, girl. All you’re doin’ is
puttin’ off the inevitable. You know that, don’t you?”

“Did Reed hire you to lobby for him?”

“Seems to me,” Jackie said in a reasonable tone, “if
you’ve got an itch, you ought to scratch it.”

“Oh, for...” Lainie shook her head and sat back.
“That’s crude, Jackie.”

“And that itch of yours must be gettin’ itchier all
the time. But you’re pretending that—”

Lainie jerked up straight. “Whose turn is it?”

“It’s yours, girl, and you can’t play. I’ve got you
blocked.”

“I’ve got to draw every one of those dominoes?”

“Yep.”

Lainie checked the score. She needed fifty-five
points and Jackie needed five. “I concede.”

“Wise of you. May be that you’re not so lacking in
smarts after all.” Jackie placed her remaining blocks face down. “Seems to me,
in this game you’re playing with Reed, you’re holding the key dominoes and got
him blocked. But in the end, I wonder which one of you it will be who finally concedes.”

Lainie kept her gaze down, carefully giving no sign
of the fact that she’d been wondering the same thing for a long time now.

Carl Henry was a bona fide janitor, a real employee,
drawing a paycheck and everything. Once more his ma had come through for him.
One parole stipulation was that he had to remain gainfully and legally
employed, so she’d pounded the pavement on his behalf and got him a job.

He poured pine cleaner into the mopping pail, the
disinfectant part of it making his nose wrinkle, then filled the plastic bucket
with water in the women’s room and carried it back to the hall. He liked using the
women’s room instead of the men’s room.

The day he’d been released, his mother had been
waiting for him outside the prison in a borrowed car, looking scared of her own
shadow like always, as if she’d expected him to haul off and slug her like his
old man would’ve. It’d made him mad enough he’d wanted to do exactly that.
Dishwater-colored hair, body so gaunt and wasted a good wind would knock her
over. It bothered him that she was so skinny, like maybe she was sick. But if
she was, she didn’t let on.

She’d set him up in a little one-room dump, complete
with hotplate, instead of inviting him to live with her. Seemed she wanted to
do right
by
him, but didn’t want to actually have anything to do
with
him. Not that he wanted to live with her.

He flipped the mop into the pail, then into the
wringer and mashed out water. Would’ve been nice to get an invitation, though.
From his own mother. To be wanted, needed. He paused, thinking on it, then
pushed it out of his mind. He ever wanted anything from her, he’d look her up.
He didn’t need to be invited.

But for now he was okay, paying job and everything.
And every once in a while he got unexpected gifts, like what he’d found last
night in the lunchroom. A digital camera with its neck strap wrapped around it,
just sitting on a chair waiting for him. Well, hello. He scooped it up and put
it in his pocket. It’d pick up a few dollars in a pawn shop if he ever needed
quick cash.

Yeah, the job was okay.

His mind flicked back to the parole and its fancy
stipulations. If there was such a thing as being legally employed, it followed
there must also be a state of being illegally employed. What would that be?
Robbing and stealing and selling dope? He’d be making money, but it wouldn’t be
legal.

He swished the mop around, backed up and swished
some more. Just the end of this hall and he’d be through with this night’s
gainful employment.

Then he turned that around too and wondered what
ungainful employment would be. Working and not getting paid? Isn’t that what
he’d been doing in that hellhole? So if he did the same thing on the outside
he’d done on the inside, he’d lose the privilege of being out and would have to
go back in?

He laughed, the sound echoing down the empty hall.
He liked making nonsense out of rules. There were a lot of stupid and silly
ones that were supposed to keep people like him in line. But people like him
could find ways around those rules any time they chose.

In fact, he was getting ready to do just that. All
he had to do was decide who was gonna be first. The prim and oh-so-proper
Jackie Lyn, who had the hots for somebody she didn’t have any kind of right to
even look at? Or would it be Mr. Businessman and quality something or other? Or
Lone Tree and old man Miles Auburn?