People Will Talk (10 page)

Chattering people filled the room even though
it was still early. An unusually energetic buzz hovered in the air,
making Nora glance around curiously. The Boys' Town Benefit had
always been well-attended, but she never remembered there being
quite so many people.

A few gray-haired couples had ventured onto the
dance floor and were shuffling to the erratic rhythm of the Rough
Riders. The majority of the crowd stood around the perimeter,
watching.

"It's a pity your mother didn't want to come,"
Tom remarked.

"She was tired," Nora repeated her mother's
excuse.

"Come on, Tom," Eve urged. "Let's get a table."
Nora followed them, aware of curious glances and a strange wake of
silence as they crossed the room. A certain amount of that was
normal these days, but there seemed to be an expectant gleam in the
eyes of one or two people who met her gaze.

Across the room, Mrs. Turner sat at a table
with several other older ladies. Nora smiled in their direction,
hoping that Bret wouldn't single her out with Mrs. Turner here.
Maybe there had been more talk about them than she'd
realized.

Eve finally found a table that suited her and
the three of them sat down.

"Chapparal Day is coming up," Tom commented
jovially. "I hear the Riding Club is thinking about putting a
handicap on Bret Maddock to give someone else a chance at winning
the big race."

"It's about time," Eve said. "He's won that
race for the last seven or eight years."

"The last ten years," murmured Nora, as she
looked around.

Across the room, near Mrs. Turner's table, a
large knot of people stood, the din of their voices loud enough to
be heard above the music. As Nora glanced around, trying to look
more comfortable than she felt, she saw Richard's mother break away
from the group and hurry off to tend to some detail.

Although she hadn't said as much to Eve and
Bret, Mrs. Worthington had figured largely in Nora's reluctance to
come tonight. For as long as Nora could remember, Richard's mother
had run the Riding Club.

A high-pitched giggle rang out, drawing Nora's
attention back to the group in the corner. Cissy Burton. A trickle
of anxiety ran down Nora's spine like the trail of a cold finger.
Talk about walking into the lion's den.

Nervously straightening the dinnerware at her
place, Nora told herself to relax and try to enjoy the evening.
Surely, Mrs. Worthington and Cissy, also on the Riding Club Board
this year, would be too busy to harass her tonight.

Eve's gasp pulled Nora's gaze up. Turning to
see what drew her friend's reaction, she felt a sudden buzzing in
her ears.

The cluster of people had shifted and through
the opening, she saw Richard standing in the midst. Richard, her
former fiancé, was here. A jumble of reactions crowded in her head.
He'd never come back for the annual benefit when they'd been
together. Had he seen her? How would he react to her
presence?

"Omigod," Eve breathed. "I didn't know he'd be
here."

"What? Who?" Tom stared around,
clueless.

"Richard's here!" his wife hissed, elbowing
him.

"I know," Tom said, his voice aggrieved as he
rubbed the arm she'd hit. "I just thought you were talking about
someone else."

"Who else would I be talking about?"

"It's okay," Nora soothed, trying to avoid
drawing more attention to their table. ''I'm sure he'll avoid me as
much as I will him."

"Do you want to leave?" Eve asked
anxiously.

Oh, boy, did she want to leave. "No," Nora
said, drawing on a determination she didn't know she had. "I
haven't done anything to be ashamed of."

She sure wasn't about to run scared. But try as
she might to relax, the next half hour seemed to tick past slowly.
Eve directed Tom to bring them plates of food and Nora picked at
the meal, moving the mound of barbecue around more than eating it.
She forced herself to shift in her chair so she could see the rest
of the room, unwilling to hide.

People still clustered around Richard in the
far corner of the room. It was strange sitting here watching him.
For years, she'd accompanied Richard to party after party. He was
always after a new deal, making a new connection.

Nora sat, unwillingly transfixed by the scene.
Her former fiancé stood surrounded by the elite of Stoneburg,
entertaining them with his stories of business conquests. Even from
this distance, she could read the situation. His stance presented
him as a force to be reckoned with and she knew that he practiced
it.

He held center stage. It was admittedly a small
stage, but she knew he'd be loving every minute of the attention.
The hometown boy voted "Most Likely To Take Wall Street By
Storm."

How strange to be here across the room from
him, an observer to a play she'd once performed. Nora grappled with
the emotions that surfaced in her anger at his betrayal, sadness at
the loss of their friendship, even a twinge of amusement. He looked
so much like a rooster crowing over his domain.

They had shared something, some level of
attachment, but it all seemed so long ago, as if it were another
woman's life. Still, she couldn't understand why he'd tried so hard
to hurt her.

The dance floor grew more crowded, couples were
whirling past their table.

Nora shifted in her chair, suddenly feeling
stifled. She felt closed in, chained by history and circumstance.
For a wild moment, she wanted to race out of the building and
launch herself into the air—to fly free from this town and everyone
in it.

She remembered sitting high on the windmill
tower, the wind swirling around her. No wonder Bret loved to fly.
He got to leave all this behind.

"Do you want anything else, Nora?" Eve's voice
jerked her back to the moment. "Tom's going back to the buffet. Do
you want him to bring you anything?"

"No, I'm fine." She looked down at the napkin
she'd been pleating and resisted the urge to scream.

"Care to dance, ma'am?"

Nora's gaze sprang up to meet
Bret's.

He stood beside the table, a sight to behold in
starched jeans and a turquoise western shirt with his cowboy hat
tilted back on his head.

"Awfully nice music," he said, his eyes dark
with the combination of an invitation and a dare.

"Do you think you ought to?" Eve asked
nervously, her gaze darting around the room.

Nora glanced at the faces turned their way,
suddenly conscious of the attention Bret's invitation had
drawn.

"Remember," he said softly, "you're a
businesswoman with a goal. And you haven't done anything to be
ashamed of."

A fluttering filled her midsection. Everything
in her longed to get up out of her seat and twirl around the dance
floor in Bret's arms.

Caution locked up her brain. "I don't think
I--"

"Come on, Nora Elizabeth," he urged her. "Don't
be afraid."

Was he talking about the gossip or something
more, something just between them? Without conscious choice, she
found her hand in his, the warmth and strength of his fingers
drawing her up.

Bret led her to the dance floor, a smile
blazing on his face. He swung her into his arms, the heat and scent
of him settling over Nora like a drug.

The music shifted to a waltz, plaintive and
graceful. As they circled the room, she fell into a rhythm that
seemed familiar. Lifting her eyes to Bret's face, longing swamped
her. She wanted him near, the charge of his presence wrapped around
her, the rocketing sizzle of being in his arms.

She knew he packed a trouble more potent than
Richard ever could, but still she wanted him. The starched cotton
of Bret's shirt felt smooth and warm where her hand rested on his
shoulder. Nora heard herself sigh as they slipped through the crowd
on the dance floor, their steps as easy and natural as
walking.

Leaning forward, he whispered, "Is this too
involved, too close? I've never been a complication before. How am
I doing?"

She looked up at him, feeling a sardonic smile
curving her mouth. "You've always been a complication.
Always."

A sudden smile brought a twinkle to his eyes.
"Thank you."

Nora looked away, conscious of a swift pang in
her chest. "Richard's here."

Bret bent forward, his lips brushing hers. "Who
cares?"

She closed her eyes and swayed closer to him,
not caring anymore. She'd protect her heart later.

"You dance like an angel, Nora," he murmured.
He drew her closer, his hand warm on her back as he bent close to
her ear. ""Want me to punch Richard out for you?"

A startled laugh escaped her. "No!"

Bret sighed. "You sure know how to spoil a
man's fun."

"No one spoils your fun for long," she
retorted.

"Well, there are a couple of other things I'd
enjoy more than popping Richard," he admitted, his eyes turning
darker.

They dipped and glided, their feet light on the
dusty floor as they floated past other couples. Every step matched
as they drifted seamlessly around the dance floor, and even their
hearts seemed to beat in rhythm. The Rough Riders Orchestra had
never played so well.

Bret drew her arms up behind his neck. She knew
she should protest. This was worse than dancing with him at the
Roadhouse. Here, every eye in town watched them with avid
speculation.

Nora rested her head on his chest, feeling the
steady thump of his heart beneath her temple. Dancing with Bret was
her reward for staying to face her accusers. At least here she
couldn't succumb to her burning need to make love to
him.

By the time they'd spun around the floor a few
more times, Nora had lost track of Richard and his mother. The
music ended with a flourish, and the Rough Riders stopped for a
break.

Nora pulled out of Bret's arms, her caution
back with a vengeance. "I need to...ahh...I'm going to check my
makeup." She turned and slipped away through the crowd, needing a
moment to herself to make sense of the emotions churning in her.
She'd been attracted to Bret for weeks, but now he seemed to be
invading her heart, and the thought sent her running for
cover.

In the ladies' room, Nora washed her hands,
patted her face with a damp towel and retouched the faint smudge of
her mascara.

Every shred of common sense told her to
retreat, to put as much distance between herself and Bret as was
possible. Something about him short circuited her common
sense.

Nora stepped out of the ladies' room and looked
around. Eve and Tom had taken to the dance floor and were jogging
around the perimeter in a dance move she couldn't
identify.

When a swift survey of the room didn't reveal
Bret's whereabouts, Nora turned toward the refreshment table.
Barbecue simmered at one end of the table, but Nora headed for the
iced soft drinks. One or two others were helping themselves to the
potato salad and coleslaw. Nora picked up a can of soda, then
turned to head back to the table.

Richard stood facing her, no more than a foot
away, an expression of contempt on his face. Nora's heart hurtled
into adrenaline overload and her throat constricted. But then her
backbone stiffened. This was Richard, the man she'd planned on
marrying, not some frightening ogre. As hurt and angry as she was,
they'd still shared something she once thought was
special.

She'd since discovered things about him that
she hadn't recognized before. Like too many men, he was short on
loyalty and ruthless in his need for advancement. His hostility
toward her baffled Nora, but she wouldn't allow herself to scurry
away.

"Hello, Richard," she said, her voice
level.

"You certainly didn't waste any time finding
yourself a playmate," he said, a sneer marking his handsome face.
"Making a spectacle of yourself with Bret Maddock. What's the
matter? Did you get tired of old men like Benson?"

"Richard." Nora glanced around, grateful that
the serving area was deserted. "You know I wasn't involved with
your boss."

He snorted in disbelief. "I used to think I
knew you, Nora. Before you showed your true colors. Now I'm
realizing how wrong I was. Do you know how much trouble you caused
me with Benson? His wife was there, for God's sake."

"Please keep your voice down," she requested,
aware of heads turning in their direction.

''I'm sure you'd like me to keep quiet,"
Richard declared, his tone more strident. "Although the way you
were wrapped around Maddock out there on the dance floor, you might
as well sell it on the street corner."

Nora gasped, shocked at the vitriol pouring out
of him. "You're crazy. Why are you saying these things?"

"What's the matter, Nora? Did you think you
could keep your sleazy secrets here in Stoneburg?"

"You've lost your mind," she declared
angrily.

"How long have you been playing around with
Bret?" snarled Richard. "Did you sneak off to let him bed you every
time we visited from Dallas?"