Present Danger (4 page)

She made an appointment with a prominent attorney, Jordan St. John. When Wesley came home from work that evening, she told him she had filed the papers.

Of all the reactions he could have made, she did not expect the one she got. He laughed.

I’m serious, Wesley.

Don’t be ridiculous. Go put on your red Scaasi
—
we have dinner reservations at eight.
She could still see his manicured fingertips impatiently tapping the crystal of his Rolex watch and the irritation in his eyes when he looked back up at her.
And for God’s sake, do something with your makeup. You can’t be seen in public looking like that.

When she finally convinced him that she was, indeed, serious, she was terrified he was going to have
a stroke. He was enraged; there was no other word for it. He threatened her with all manner of legal harassment; he told her he would see to it that she was left penniless and socially ostracized if she insisted on going through with her insane proposal.

By that time, she’d reached the point where she truly didn’t care. She just wanted to feel that she had some worth in this world that didn’t begin and end in her looks. She also knew deep in her heart that she would never feel worthwhile or even entirely
real
as long as she was married to Wesley.

She told him to do what he had to do.

To her amazement he made a complete turnaround and agreed to an amicable settlement. Suddenly as gracious as he’d been in their courting days, he insisted that she keep the house and the Mercedes. He moved into his club and instructed his own lawyer to settle a generous sum in her name. She was baffled by his abrupt change of heart, but she didn’t question it. She was simply grateful that the fighting was at an end. When their divorce was ultimately finalized, she felt as though she had gained a whole new lease on life.

It was not a feeling destined to be long-lived.

James flipped on the light that was mounted to his drafting table, dropped onto the padded seat of his secretarial chair, and picked up a pencil. Ten minutes later, he tossed the pencil aside and drummed his fingers against the slanted edge of his table in an irritated rhythm, no closer to inspiration than he had been when he’d first sat down. Damn. He was restless and edgy and concentration was simply beyond him.

He popped the cap off a cold Dos Equis and
prowled the apartment but there wasn’t a thing there capable of holding his interest. The book he’d been enjoying last night was suddenly boring and dry; there was nothing worth viewing on television, and what in hell ever happened to the days when FM radio meant listening while smooth-voiced DJ’s played an entire uninterrupted side of an album? He couldn’t even find anything good to eat in this place.

James killed off his beer and grabbed his scuffed leather jacket. He had to get out of here for a while; he was going nuts.

He stopped at the grocery store and bought some provisions, bypassing the chocolate-chip-mint ice cream regretfully. He wasn’t in the mood to go home yet; and unfortunately by the time he was, the ice cream would most likely be reduced to a soggy puddle in the back of his Jeep. Storing the groceries, he headed for a nearby tavern that served excellent barbecued-beef sandwiches.

A sandwich, a beer, and the smoky, noisy atmosphere of the tavern began to unravel his uncharacteristic tension. He put a quarter on the pool table to reserve himself a place in the lineup waiting to challenge the current champ and ordered another beer. Leaning an elbow on the bar, he sipped his beer slowly as he watched the tavern patrons.

The little blonde by the jukebox reminded him vaguely of his new tenant, the Southern belle. God, she had
hummed
while she was sanding the wall this afternoon. She couldn’t carry a tune worth a damn, but still, who would have expected that kind of cheeriness from someone eating plaster dust? Especially someone like her. Otis was right: he’d only made the offer in the first place from a contrary desire to embarrass her. Her eagerness in accepting and her
cheerful industriousness had knocked him on his butt.
You were right, Mistah Rydah, sandin’ keeps you nice and warm.

Offhand, he could think of about a dozen ways of keeping her warm that would be a helluva lot more enjoyable.

James sucked in an involuntary breath and aspirated beer into his lungs. He coughed harshly. Where in hell had that thought come from? He didn’t go for the petite, vulnerable type; he liked them tall and experienced, girls with big tits who knew the score and were no smarter than they had to be. He enjoyed good-natured women who didn’t expect more from him than a night’s pleasure.

Hell, he was horny; that was all. All that edgy restlessness that had driven him out of his apartment was simply a result of having gone too long without any good, raunchy, uncomplicated sex. That was the
only
reason those mind images featuring the Magnolia Midget in glorious technicolor had popped with momentary vividness into his brain. Jeez.

He took another sip of beer and rolled the cool bottle across his flushed forehead.

“Hello, James.”

James lowered the bottle and found himself staring smack dab into a truly spectacular set of mammaries showcased in a thin tank top and framed by a loose, open jacket. His face creased in half-a-dozen places as he grinned. Well, all right. This was more like it. He raised his eyes. “Shelley! Haven’t seen you for a while. Sit down. Let me buy you a drink.”

She smiled in pleasure and slid onto the vacant stool next to him. “Thanks, I’d like that. Make it white wine.”

James motioned for the bartender.

He felt himself returning to normal as the evening progressed. He flirted, laughed, and teased. He pushed aside the stray thought that Shelley’s skin wasn’t as smooth and clear as he remembered almost in the same instant that it formed in his mind. He enjoyed the way she pressed her lush breasts against his arm when they talked and how she encouraged him when he went up against the pool-table champ. Unfortunately, the encouragement didn’t do him a world of good. The guy was exceptional, and one game was all that James got. He was just grateful he’d only had two balls left on the felt by the time his opponent finally sank the eight ball … at least he hadn’t been totally skunked. Shelley’s brand of commiseration took the sting right out of his defeat in any case.

It was growing late when he leaned over and nuzzled her ear. “Wanna take me home?” he breathed. “You can show me all those new colors you were telling me about.” Shelley was a manicurist who specialized in acrylic nails.

“Oh, James, I can’t. Me and my roommate painted my room, and I have to sleep out on the couch tonight.” She leaned close, cuddling his bicep between her full breasts again. “Let’s go to your place.”

For just an instant, James was tempted to break his number one cardinal rule: Never bring the ladies home. Shelley was, after all, exactly what the doctor ordered.

Then the moment passed. “Uh, that won’t work. I’ve got one of my brothers staying with me.” Once women spent the night, he’d discovered the hard way, they had a habit of forever after dropping by unannounced and making themselves at home. Then he always ended up hurting their feelings when he
told them he didn’t want someone to cook his dinner or straighten up his living room. Or worse, they noticed his work on the drafting table, discovered who he was, and then the trouble really began.

According to Lola, he was a real pig, but that was just the way it was. He didn’t need the complications.

James visited with Shelley for another hour, but when he finally left, he left alone.

This had just not been his day.

Lola pulled the basal thermometer from her mouth and made a notation on the chart next to the bed. She reclined back on her pillow, feeling depressed. It looked like tomorrow was going to be the day, and Otis would be gone. His rotation at the station began this afternoon. Damn! She tossed aside the covers and slowly climbed from the bed.

She was brewing herself a cup of herbal tea when Otis sidled up behind her. He wrapped his strong arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck. “Mornin’ baby.”

“Mornin’,” she responded glumly and when Otis’s mouth returned to the side of her neck, she hunched her shoulder irritably. He slowly straightened.

“I can see you’re in a wonderful mood. Thermometer give you some bad news this mornin’?”

“It looks like tomorrow.”

“So recreational sex today is out of the question,
I guess.” His voice turned bitter. “Gotta save up all those sperm for when they’ll really count!”

“I don’t suppose you could come home for a while tomorrow.”

“No, dammit, I can’t.” He grabbed her by the shoulders. “How long are we going to keep putting ourselves through this, Lola? Remember when we used to make love just because we felt like it, not because some friggin’ chart said it was time?”

“I want a baby, mon!”

“So do I, girl. But I don’t want to sacrifice our entire life to the project in the meantime. There must be hundreds of black babies out there just beggin’ for a good home. I want you to give some serious consideration to adoption.”

“I want your baby,” she maintained stubbornly.

Otis stiffened and dropped his hands. They’d been over this before … too damned many times. It was starting to drive a wedge between them. Lately, he’d been getting the feeling she wouldn’t really welcome his lovemaking unless there was the possibility it would impregnate her. The thought hurt more than he could ever let her know. Angrily, he turned away. “I’m going to work,” he said stiffly. Grabbing his jacket from the closet, he headed for the door.

“Otis.”

He stopped in the open doorway but didn’t turn back to her. Lola came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against the warm muscles of his back. “Don’t go. You don’t have to be there for hours.”

He remained stiff in her embrace. “I’m sick of this, Lola. We had something so rare and good, and I can feel it slippin’ away. I want to be wanted just for myself again, not because it’s time for me to play the stud.
And I swear, if my brother offers his services one more time, I’m gonna flatten him.”

“I know.” Her hands slid down his hard thighs, then slowly rose again. Long, brown fingers brushed seductively back and forth across the fly of his slacks. “I’m sorry for my lousy attitude, mon. I love you.”

He remained where he was standing but slowly reached out and closed the door.

“Let me start over again,” she whispered. “Say ‘mornin’ baby.’”

“Mornin’ baby.”

“Mornin’ yourself, soldier boy. Wanna fool around wid an island girl … just for the heck of it?”

“Yeah.” He turned in her arms. “Oh, baby, yeah.”

“Happy Halloween, Lola,” Aunie said cheerfully when the door opened to her knock. “Otis home?”

“No. He’s on his rotation at the firehouse.”

“Oh, rats. The lamp in my bedroom quit working and I was hoping he could help me fix it.”

“
Help
you?”

“Okay, fix it.” Aunie’s unrepentant grin slowly faded when it was not returned.

“James is home,” Lola said flatly. “Get him to fix it for you. He’s better wid the electrical stuff anyway.”

Aunie frowned. “Lola, have I done something to offend you?” Ever since the day they’d met, Lola had felt like a very good friend. Friends had never been overabundant in Aunie’s life. Today, however, she was receiving the distinct impression she was not welcome, and her self-esteem dropped a notch lower than usual. She backed up a step.

“No.” Lola reached out and gripped Aunie’s wrist. “I’m sorry. I’m just depressed today, and I’m takin’
it out on everyone around me.” Her dark eyes filled with quick tears. “I made Otis angry wid me earlier and now I’m hurtin’ your feelin’s.”

“My feelings will survive. You want to talk about it or should I go away?”

Lola pulled her through the door. “I want some company.”

“The doctors, they can’t find anything wrong wid either of us,” she confided awhile later. Her chin rested on her updrawn knees as she gazed unhappily at Aunie. “We’ve been married for seven years and tryin’ for a child for nearly four, but I just cannot seem to get pregnant. For a long time it didn’t matter so much, but lately it’s practically all I can think about. It’s become such a sensitive issue, Otis’s sister Leeanne dreaded to tell me she was pregnant, and wid good reason. I was hoppy for her, but also I was so jealous I could have screamed. Now, it’s startin’ to drive me and Otis apart; and, Aunie, if I let that hoppen, if I drive him away because I can’t stop obsessin’ ‘bout having a baby, I don’t know what I’ll do. I love that mon so much.”

“Have you ever considered adoption?”

“That’s what Otis wants to do, but I don’t know … I want to give him his own child.”

“I wanted a baby when I was married,” Aunie said slowly. She had never admitted this to anyone except her mother and lawyer, and it was difficult to admit to now; but perhaps, if she could make Lola see how lucky she was to have Otis … “My husband refused even to consider the possibility. The reason he gave me was that it would ruin my figure.” When Lola stared at her incredulously, Aunie met her eyes and continued, “Kind of gives you an idea of my importance in his life, huh? I envy you Otis so much, Lola.
It’s obvious he’s crazy about you, and he doesn’t strike me as a man who would love a child any less just because that child wasn’t created from his own seed.”

She left Lola’s apartment a short time later and returned to her own. It wasn’t until she entered the bedroom and flipped the switch on the bedside lamp that she recalled her original reason for going downstairs. Damn. If she wanted the thing fixed anytime soon, she was going to have to ask James Ryder to help her.

She’d really rather not.

On the other hand, she’d also rather not wait for the four days or a week or whatever it was that comprised one of Otis’s rotations at the fire station. That was a long time to be without her lamp, and she had not yet reached the point where she could once again sleep in the dark. She sometimes wondered if the night would ever come when she would be able to.

Feeling like an idiot for the way her heart was beginning to pound over what was basically a minor request, she walked down the hall and tapped lightly on James’s door. Relieved when there was no answer, she tapped once again just so she could tell herself she wasn’t really a craven coward. Then she turned away.

“What’d y’do, call me from a phone booth on Broadway?” Aunie jumped to hear his voice through the closed door and reluctantly turned back. “I told you to come in a half hour!” The door was yanked opened. “Oh. Sorry,” James said, startled. “I thought you were my brother.”

She didn’t reply; she couldn’t. She was too busy staring at the sight that greeted her.

Her eyes were at chest level when the door opened and they widened with surprise, then refused to move
any higher. He must have hastily donned his clothes when she knocked on the door. He was wearing a shirt and a worn pair of jeans, but neither garment was fastened. The shirt hung open, framing a broad, lightly furred chest and hard stomach The zipper of his jeans was unzipped and once Aunie’s eyes had bemusedly tracked the sparse stripe of blond hair down his muscular abdomen to the loose, open waistband that rode low on his hipbones, she couldn’t seem to drag them away. She could practically feel the strain she was imposing on her eyeballs trying to get a peek into the shadows beyond that gaping fly.

As in the black-and-white photographs on her bedroom walls, the sensuality was more in what was hidden than in what was revealed. Only this was no photograph. This was three-dimensional, warm, alive, and smelling of damp, healthy male.

It was more exciting altogether.

She licked her lips. God. She’d never seen anything quite so sexy in her entire life as this tantalizing, close-up glimpse of James Ryder’s half-clad body.

Which just went to show how barren her own sex life was, she supposed. Gawd, girl, get a grip, she admonished herself and slowly dragged her eyes upwards. “Uh, I’ve got a lamp that quit work …” Her voice trailed away and she felt her jaw literally sag when her eyes finally reached his face. There was a bloody hatchet sticking out of his forehead.

It wasn’t real, of course. It took her a moment, however, to remember that today was Halloween and to realize that the hatchet was obviously a prop. But a clever prop … Lordy, it was clever. Her lips were just curling up in appreciation, when he wagged one eyebrow at her, making the hatchet shift.

“Don’t s’pose you’ve got any aspirin on ya?” he
asked in a hopeful voice. “I’ve got a killer of a headache.”

Startled laughter exploded out of her. Then she laughed again, harder, and it was all downhill from there, for once started she couldn’t seem to stop. Finally, tears running down her cheeks, she slid loosely down the hallway wall and flopped over on her side, still gasping with laughter as she clutched her stomach. Every time she thought she was finally getting a handle on what was turning into a nearly hysterical case of the giggles, she’d catch his eye and he’d raise an eyebrow at her and it would set her off once again. Finally, deeming it necessary to do something other than just lie there curled up on the floor making a fool of herself, she began to crawl away. Out of sight, out of mind … or so she sincerely hoped.

James grinned as he watched her drag herself down the hallway on her hands and knees, still laughing that wholehearted, surprisingly deep laugh. Talk about a great reaction … who would have thought to get that kind of response out of the prim little Confederate belle? Without removing his watchful gaze, he tucked his shirttails into his pants and zipped up.

Aunie’s mirth mercifully began to subside halfway down the hall and she started to push herself to her feet. Unfortunately, she glanced back over her shoulder and caught James grinning at her and the whole ridiculous business started all over again. She collapsed back onto all fours.

He swooped down on her and hooked one brawny arm around her waist, scooping her off the floor. She laughed harder and went totally limp. Letting her dangle like a broken doll from his forearm and hip, he packed her to her front door. “Where’s your key?”

“It’s o … o … it’s
ooo
…”

“Open,” he supplied helpfully. “Gotcha.” He opened the door, maneuvered her carefully through the doorway, and then packed her into the living room, where he dropped her in a giggling heap on her couch. She immediately rolled off. “Ooh, Gawd, I’m gonna wet my pants.” Emitting silly snuffling noises, a result of trying to swallow her laughter, she trotted with knock-kneed awkwardness into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Grinning and shaking his head, he stared at the closed door for a moment and then turned away. He looked around her living room with curious eyes, finding it warm and friendly and surprisingly informal. Somewhere, he’d formed the impression she’d decorate with thousand-dollar vases and furniture designed more for style than function. But although the teal linen couch with its touches of rose appeared obviously costly, it also looked invitingly comfortable. And her accessories, to his further surprise, were more along the line of street-fair-craftsmen funky than designer original. Hell, there was even a mug of his design holding some pencils and pens next to her stack of books on the dining room table. Tilting his head to read the spines, he raised his eyebrows over the titles of some of her texts. He wouldn’t have figured her for a heavy math load, either. She struck him as more of the liberal-arts type. He shrugged, thinking that sometimes it just didn’t pay to jump to conclusions.

There were three lamps in the living room and dining area, and he checked each one, finding them in perfect working order. Until she emerged from the bathroom there wasn’t much more that he could do, so he dropped down on the couch to wait, propping his feet up on the coffee table.

He glanced at the door again. He hadn’t expected to like her, and he still wasn’t sure that he did. But you had to appreciate someone who laughed like that.

In the bathroom, Aunie lectured herself sternly about the perils of hysteria as she used the facilities, but it was difficult to give it the serious attention it deserved when she was still snickering. She splashed frigid water over her face until she got herself under control, then raised her dripping face to stare at her reflection in the mirror. She supposed she should be embarrassed about acting like such an idiot in front of him, of all people, but the truth was it had felt good. She hadn’t laughed like that in … she couldn’t remember how long. It had been years, though. She ran a brush through her hair, slapped on a dash of lip gloss, and left the bathroom to rejoin James in the living room.

When he tilted his head against the back of the couch to look up at her, she had to bite her lip to keep from sniggering; but the worst of her uncontrollable laughter seemed to have passed, thank God.

“So, tell me,” he said coolly, recalling that it was best to keep this woman at arm’s length. “Can I assume by your reaction that y’ think my Halloween effort is moderately amusing?”

“It’s never smart to assume anything,” she replied crisply, stung at his sudden change of attitude.
Now
she felt foolish and she experienced a flash of resentment that he’d apparently gone out of his way to dampen the first good laugh she’d had in much, much too long. “I was merely being polite.”

He laughed incredulously. “Polite? Honey,
this
is polite.” He demonstrated a sickly simper. “Crawling down the hallway laughin’ your head off is amused.”

“Have it your way, James. I’ll concede I was a
little
bit amused.” Why was he being so nasty? She had actually felt comfortable with him for about five minutes there.