Love Me Tonight (7 page)

She held her breath, until his warm tongue touched her nipple. “Stop playing with me. I want to feel your mouth on me.”

He sucked the nipple into his mouth, and she let out a cry and pressed his head to increase the pressure. When she bucked against him, simulating the dance of love, he stopped her and looked in her eyes.

“You didn't intend for it to go this far, and I'm not sure I did, but if I don't leave here now, I'll take you to bed.”

“I started it, but I'm not sorry about this, Judson, and don't you be. There'll be another time. Get home safely.”

“I'll call you later. Good night, sweetheart.”

She closed the door and locked it. Deep in thought, she walked to the living room and dropped herself into a chair. She was falling for Judson Philips.
I've known him less than two months. I'm too well-educated, too old and too experienced. This is crazy!

 

Judson wanted Heather to believe that he cared for her, but he did not want her to realize the power she had over him. Not yet. He'd jerked away from her seconds before his powerful erection would have given her evidence of it. He didn't believe in playing games with a woman. But he didn't think it wise at present to show his hand.

He walked into his house and didn't pause until he got to his mother's bedroom. She loved to read, so he started with her bookcase and opened each book hoping to find a note, a letter or the directions to something else. Lost in his search, he hardly heard the wind shaking the window. When it became louder, he went to the window, looked out and saw that the sky was still clear, and the full moon shone brightly. Deciding that a storm was not imminent, he resumed his search, but immediately the rattling commenced again. He went to the window to secure the latch, braced his left hand against the heavy valance that hung across the top of the window and jerked it back.

He felt something. He turned up the hem of the valance and saw a small, letter-size envelope secured to the valance with a safety pin. He opened it and stared at a two-and-a-half-inch metal key in his hand that he knew without a doubt fit a safe deposit box. He looked
inside the envelope and found the box number and the address of the bank. He put the key back into the envelope and placed the envelope in the pocket of his jacket. He reached for the light to turn it off and realized that the window had stopped rattling.

With a broad smile, he looked upward. “Thanks.”

 

The next morning, he put the notarized copy of his mother's will into his briefcase and headed for the bank. As executor of the will, he was entitled to open her safe deposit box. But the closer he got to the bank, the more uneasy he became. What if he didn't like what he found and wished he'd let sleeping dogs lie? He parked around the corner from the bank and forced himself to get on with it.

He asked for the manager and presented the will. Minutes later, he had in his hands what he knew would be the secrets of his mother's life. He put the bundle of letters into his brief case, ran his hand back to the part of the safe deposit box that he couldn't see and retrieved a bundle of Series E bonds, a gold-and-diamond bracelet, a gold OMEGA watch and a gray cameo set in gold. He phoned his secretary and told her to refer important calls to his cell phone. He locked the box and went home.

Hours later, he still hadn't finished the letters between Beverly Moten and Fentriss Sparkman. He learned that, six months after they had met, they began a torrid love affair that Beverly's family vigorously opposed. But their letters expressed a profound love for each other. He gave her elegant and expensive gifts, which she hid from her family. Her mother discovered her
pregnancy, considered her a disgrace to the family and confined her to the house. Beverly sneaked out at night and mailed letters to Fentriss, but they were returned unanswered.

Fentriss's last letter to Beverly stated that he would be working in Atlanta for a few months but would return for the dedication of the hotel. After the child was born, her mother sent her to Baltimore and kept the child. He found no more letters from Fentriss and suspected that Beverly's mother confiscated them. No one had to tell him that the expensive watch, bracelet and cameo were gifts to Beverly from Fentriss Sparkman. He counted the Series E bonds which she had registered jointly in her name and Judson's, and found that they added up to forty-five thousand dollars plus accrued interest. He decided that the money would be a gift to his firstborn child.

He still hadn't satisfied himself that he had the answer until he opened the last set of papers. In the small packet, he found his adoption papers and realized that Beverly and Louis Philips adopted him when he was three years old, six months after the death of their younger child. He had a lot of useful information, but competent lawyer that he was, he realized that he didn't have a shred of proof.

“I have to find Fentriss Sparkman.”

“C
an you tolerate my company for lunch?” Judson asked Scott minutes after deciding to find Fentriss Sparkman.

“Sure thing. Where do you want to meet?”

“I don't want to make it a long one, so how about Frank's for some pulled-pork barbecue?” They agreed on a time.

Judson put his mother's jewelry and government bonds in his safe, locked it and left to meet Scott. He hadn't shared with Heather what he'd learned, but he would, later that day. When they could be alone.

Besides the barbecue, to Judson's way of thinking, the garden in back of the restaurant was the only reason to eat at Frank's. But on that day, the heat forced him to eat inside in the air-conditioned restaurant. Scott, who
was sitting at a back-corner table when he arrived, stood and they exchanged a fist bump.

“What's up?” Scott asked him.

He didn't have time for preliminaries. “I found the key to Mom's safe deposit box. I didn't even know she had one.” Scott lurched toward him. “It contained a huge bundle of love letters exchanged with a man I suspect was my father.”

“What? Wait a minute.”

Judson explained the basis for his suspicion. “I have to find that man, and if I can't find that child Mom had when she was twenty-three, or incontrovertible evidence of what happened to him, then I'm that child. She and Dad adopted me when I was three. Aunt Cissy said Mom came back for the child when he was about three. So there you have it.”

“Whoa, man. What does that prove?”

Scott rubbed the back of his neck. “Judson, do you actually think Aunt Bev let you believe she was your adoptive mother when she was actually your real mother? Man, that sounds cruel as hell to me. I don't want to think that about her.”

“Well, if it's true, you have to credit her with finding a way to take me to live with her and not letting relatives or strangers raise me. If there's a culprit in this, it's probably her mother. It won't be the first time that face-saving got in the way of parental love.”

“Yeah. I guess not.”

They finished the barbecued pork sandwiches and promised to meet the following weekend for a game of
tennis to help rid them of the calories they'd just gained. “I'll be in touch,” he said to Scott and got into his car.

At four-thirty, he telephoned Heather. “Hi, sweetheart. I've got plenty to tell you, but first, I want to know how things are going with you.”

“I have to attend a White House black-tie reception Thursday after next, and since the invitation is for me and a guest, will you be my guest?”

“I'll be delighted to accompany you,” he answered.

“I need to talk to you in person, if possible. I don't think I can cook a meal this evening, so I'd like us to eat at a restaurant, if you don't have any plans.”

“Okay. What time?”

“Be at my place at seven.”

“Is what you have to tell me going to make me happy or sad?”

“I'm making good progress, but I need to process some of this stuff through a brain other than mine. I have most of what I've been looking for and the key to the rest, but the most difficult may be ahead of me.”

“I'm with you, no matter what.”

He supposed that was why he'd called her, to know that she was there for him. He was reaching a point in his search where he could stumble or, worse, get more than he'd bargained for.

 

Heather questioned the wisdom of leaving the country at a time when Judson could be facing a critical point in his life. She had to put a cork in the trouble brewing in Colombia, and a trip there within the next few days seemed in order. She hoped Judson hadn't
bitten off more than he was willing to chew. It had been her experience that when you dug into the past, you could uncover truths best left alone. She hoped he was willing to acknowledge that. She had already realized that his gentle, laid-back manner camouflaged a strong and tenacious personality and a toughness to match that of any man. But he could falter, because he was dealing with uncertain emotions. She was prepared to see him through some of the pain, if necessary. She had already learned to take the bumps in stride.

She didn't know where he'd take her, so she put on an avocado-colored, lightweight silk suit with a yellow silk blouse. If the place required something dressier, she would merely remove the jacket. And probably freeze. She wore her hair down, attached small gold hoops to her ears, and hurried down the hall guessing that she would barely make it to the door by the time he rang the bell.

She opened the door, and he stepped in, hugged her and stepped back as if to get a good look. “You look better to me every time I see you,” he said. His eyes sparkled, though she knew they reflected his happiness that he'd made progress in his search for his birth parents.

She'd been careful not to compliment him on his looks, because he had certainly heard enough of that. But he looked so great in that navy blue suit that she reached up, kissed him on the mouth and said, “Remaining objective about you is practically a full-time job, and tonight, it's impossible.”

“Why?”

“Because you look great, and you're interfering with my good judgment.”

“Trust me, sweetheart, you're interfering with more than my judgment. I found a great little Hungarian restaurant. It has terrific food, a wonderful décor and live gypsy music. I walked in there one day to get out of a torrential rain, and decided to sample the food. It's really good. But if you'd rather—”

“I can already taste it. Besides, I like gypsy music. It's schmaltzy and romantic.”

 

“This was wonderful,” she said to Judson as they sipped espresso after their dinner. The musicians strolled among the patrons taking requests and filling the restaurant with the kind of music that stirs fantasies.

The lead violinist asked Judson, “What would you like to here?”

“‘Just One Girl in All the World,'” he said, and explained to Heather that he had once heard the song while sitting alone in a Hungarian café in Vienna, Austria. “You can't imagine how lonely I felt that night.”

She reached for his hand, closed her eyes and let the music wash over her. One didn't need the words to know that it was a song for lovers. The musicians moved on to the next table and, as if the song had opened up a place inside of him, Judson began to talk.

“Aunt Cissy said the boy was three years old when Beverly Moten came back to Hagerstown and took him away, and the adoption papers I found stated that I was
three at the time of adoption. Now I'm going to find Fentriss Sparkman.”

“But where?”

“I'll start with the organizations that architects and builders belong to to see if he's a member, and whether his address is listed. Aunt Cissy said he's a very prominent builder, and he must be if he designed that beautiful hotel.”

“Tell you what. I have to visit Annie and my father. Bring your laptop, I'll bring mine, and we can work at this together.”

“I'd like that, but what will your dad say about your bringing me to his house? I mean, won't he reach the wrong conclusion?”

She could hardly restrain her laughter. “Seeing me with you would please him, but he might start asking you questions.”

“When did you last bring a man to your dad's house?”

“Hmm. Not since I was a teenager.”

“There's your answer. I've been introduced to several fathers and their response to me was the same—
What are your intentions?
If I'm lucky enough to have a daughter, that will also be my reaction to any man I see her with. And if I asked, not a one would tell me the truth.”

She lowered her lashes. “What if I asked, would you tell me the truth?”

A grin spread over his face, and his large eyes sparkled, sending her heart into a tizzy. He stared at her. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” she said. “At times, you take some getting used to. You didn't answer my question.”

“Oh, that! If I tell you the truth, you won't play by the rules. I'm not stupid, sweetheart.

“If I go to Hagerstown and don't stay with my aunt Cissy, she'll be hurt. I suggest that you stay with your dad, and I'll stay with my aunt, and we'll meet at the hotel and do our research there.”

“Nope. You come to my dad's place. We can work in the living room, the dining room, Dad's den or on the enclosed, air-conditioned back porch. I'm not sitting in a hotel working when I can kick off my shoes and work at home. Period.”

“If you had phrased that differently, say, like a suggestion or a request rather than an order, I'd say that's a great idea.”

She spent so much of her working day telling people what to do that she'd slipped up. But she figured she'd better not buckle at the first sign of battle. “Point taken. What do you say instead?”

“I'd say it's a good idea.”

“I apologize. I'm so used to giving orders at work that I slipped. I'll be more careful.”

“Can we leave Friday afternoon after work? I'll call Aunt Cissy and tell her to expect me. Do you want to come back Saturday or Sunday? Or shall we play it by ear?”

“My father won't want me to leave before Sunday.” She looked out the window. “Look at that, will you? I didn't know it was supposed to rain. It looks as if the clouds burst wide open. Well, we'll just sit here.”

After another round of espresso and two more tips to the musicians to play “Golden Earrings” and “Vienna, City of My Dreams,” he seemed to tire of the schmaltz. “I'll get my car. Wait inside here.”

“Why should you get wet? I'm—”

He interrupted her. “Will I be drier if you go with me to get the car than if I went alone? Wait by the door.”

As he walked away, she considered the evening. She would have to remember to leave foreign service officer Tatum at the office, where she'd been cracking the whip, as it were, all day.

Judson drove up and parked. She was about to open the door when she saw him get out of the car, open an umbrella and walk to the door where she stood. She waited until he opened it and walked with him the few steps to the car.

She sat in the car, completely dry, and when he opened the door on the driver's side and got in, she saw that he was drenched. “When you take me home,” she said, “I'm going to kiss you and we'll stop when
I'm
ready.”

“If past experience is a yardstick, it's gonna be a long evening. I can't wait.” Was he being facetious?

“And I can't wait for you to eat those words.”

“Uh-huh. I know.”

She tried to see his face. “You're playing with me.”

“Would I do a mean thing like that?” He parked in front of her building, cut the motor and turned to her. “Should I let the valet park this car?”

While she looked him in the eye, she put a hand on the door handle as if prepared to open it. “You can
do that, or you can find a parking space around here somewhere.”

She was about to push the door open when his hand shot out and pulled her toward him. He bent over her. “Some things aren't amusing. You know I want you, that I'm practically going out of my mind wanting you.”

Stunned by his outburst, she didn't think. Instead, she put her hand behind his head, parted her lips and brought his mouth to hers. “I'm not playing with you. Kiss me.”

She had expected a fierce, passionate and demanding kiss, but his lips barely touched hers. His tongue flicked over the seam of her lips and withdrew. His lips brushed her eyes, her cheeks and her throat. He stopped and looked at her.

“Do you understand?” he asked her, his voice soft and urgent.

“Yes,” she whispered.

He stared into her eyes until tremors seemed to surge through her, beginning with her limbs and then throughout her body. She felt herself shake, and he wrapped her in his arms. “There's nothing casual about this for me, Heather. If you can walk away and not look back, tell me now, and I won't get out of this car.”

“This is not casual or ordinary for me, Judson. I'm in uncharted waters, and I'm scared to death that I might drown.”

His kiss barely touched her mouth, but it shook her from her head to her toes. He got out, went around and opened the door for her. “Say, there's a parking spot,” she said when a car moved away from the curb. He
looked at her for a moment, and she knew the second that he made up his mind. He got back into his car and parked in the vacant spot, came back, took her hand and walked into the building.

Inside her apartment, he closed the door, took her hand and walked with her to the living room. “Sit here beside me,” he said. “Heather, from the time my mother died until the first time you kissed me, I couldn't shake the feeling of being totally alone. It didn't depress me, but it was unpleasant and I felt a terrible loss. As you and I have grown closer, I have only fleetingly felt that loneliness.

“When I eat something that's delicious, I want to share it with you. If I see something interesting, beautiful or funny, I almost always think of you and wish you were with me.

“I can think of several reasons why you may want to break off our relationship. If not now, eventually. If you and I make love, breaking up would cause deep pain. I've thought about this a good deal. If you haven't, this is your opportunity to back away.”

“I know that feeling of loneliness, of being by myself even when surrounded by friends and colleagues, and of having no one with whom to share an intimate experience,” she said. “You know my story. From the time I was ten, I've had Annie and my father. Now, your nightly and sometime early-morning calls are the moments I live for. I haven't dissected this thing, but I know what you mean to me. I don't care who your parents are or what your heritage is. It produced you, and that's more than good enough for me.”