The Backup Plan (21 page)

“You are in a very weird profession,” Dinah said, then felt compelled to add politely, “If you don't mind me saying so.”

He laughed. “You're not the first. Your friend Maggie equates what I do with some form of black magic or something. She doesn't have any use for it.”

“She sent me to you,” Dinah reminded him. “In my book that says she respects you.”

He seemed startled by the assessment. “You think so?”

“For a man who makes a career of reading between the lines, you seem oddly clueless about Maggie,” she said, studying him speculatively. “I think she just loves yanking your chain. You must make it easy for her.”

His expression turned thoughtful. “I probably do. Maybe I'll ask her out one of these days so I can investigate your theory, see if there's convincing data there to support it.”

Dinah grinned. “Sounds like a plan to me. Just don't
make it a case study, doc. Try thinking of it as a date.” She looked up just then and saw Cord's truck angling into a no-parking space in front of the building.

“There's my ride. I'd better get out there before he goes toe-to-toe with a cop over his illegal parking.” She met Warren's gaze. “Thank you for today. Same time Monday?”

He glanced in Cord's direction, then shook his head. “I think you deserve a long weekend off. I'll see you again on Tuesday.”

Dinah brightened as if she'd been given a pass to skip school. “Really?”

He winked. “Enjoy yourself. You did good work today.”

A warm glow washed over her at his praise. Who'd ever have thought that she'd be complimented for getting in touch with her own emotions when she'd always been trained to keep her feelings at bay.

She walked toward the door and got there just as Cord yanked it open, his expression filled with worry. The instant he spotted her, he opened his arms and gathered her close.

“You okay?” he asked.

“None the worse for wear,” she said, breathing in the musky, masculine scent of him and the faint aroma of sawdust. It was a scent she was beginning to crave.

“Let's go home.”

“Yours or mine?”

She chuckled at the uncertainty in his gaze. “I think mine, for a change. Something tells me Mother and Dad need to have their world shaken up a bit.”

“And you think you showing up with me in tow will do that?” he asked, an edge in his voice.

“No, I think them figuring out you're upstairs in my bed will do that,” she corrected, then grinned. “You game?”

Cord laughed. “As long as you're the one who in tends to fend off Maybelle and her rolling pin when she spots me sneaking up the stairs.”

“That's a deal,” she promised him.

What had ever made her think that life in Charleston was destined to be dull? In some ways she'd taken more risks here in the past few weeks than she had in years. And maybe these were the risks that really mattered.

 

“What the hell is that?” Cord asked, snapping awake to the sound of a powerful engine right outside the window.

Dinah was sitting upright in bed beside him looking every bit as startled and confused as he was. “It sounds like a motorcycle,” she said. “But who would be riding a motorcycle in this house? Surely this isn't one more part of Tommy Lee's rebellion.” She frowned at Cord. “We need to talk about that, by the way, but not right now. The motorcycle thing is more pressing.”

“One way to find out who's on it,” Cord said, crawling out of bed and padding bare-assed over to the window to peek outside. As soon as he caught a glimpse of the candy-apple-red Harley and its driver, he burst out laughing.

“What?” Dinah demanded, coming over to join him.

“Will you look at that?” Cord said, just as Dorothy Davis exited the front door in a pair of jeans, boots and a black T-shirt with the logo of some rock band splashed across the front in a psychedelic tie-dyed pattern. In his opinion, she looked carefree and damn good for her age.
He could imagine Dinah looking just like that in another twenty or thirty years.

“Mother,” Dinah said, her mouth gaping.

“And unless I miss my guess, that's your daddy on the motorcycle,” Cord said, watching as the man helped Dorothy climb on behind him, then handed her a helmet.

“Have they lost their minds?” Dinah muttered, vanishing from his side.

By the time Cord turned away from the outrageous, unexpected scene outside, Dinah was pulling on her robe and heading out the bedroom door. He shouted for her to stop, but she was evidently on a mission.

He debated following her, but concluded his sudden appearance in the driveway half-dressed would put a damper on whatever impulsive craziness was going on with the Davises. In his opinion, they were old enough to make their own decisions. Dinah, he suspected, did not see it that way.

In less than a minute, he heard the motorcycle roar off and guessed that Dinah hadn't gotten outside in time to confront her parents. In his opinion, that was just as well.

He settled back against the pillows and waited for her return.

It didn't take long for Dinah to reappear, her expression filled with indignation. “They didn't stop. They acted like they didn't even hear me.”

“How could they? That engine was pretty loud.”

“Oh, they heard me. My mother looked straight at me and grinned like some schoolgirl,” she said, flopping down on the bed beside him, only to stand up and start to pace. “What on earth are they thinking?”

“That it's a great day for a ride?” Cord ventured, only to draw a scowl.

“It's a great day for a drive in the country in the car,” she retorted. “Or even in a convertible. But a motorcycle? Come on, Cordell. They'll kill themselves.”

“Maybe they've done this before,” he suggested. “Maybe they're experienced.”

“Oh, don't be ridiculous,” Dinah said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “My father on a motorcycle? Mr. Uptight and Professional? I've never seen the man when he hasn't been wearing a suit.”

Cord chuckled, then smothered it when Dinah glared at him. “I'm sure he's gotten out of his suits from time to time.”

“Not in my lifetime,” she insisted.

He resisted pointing out that Marshall Davis had evidently gotten undressed with his wife on at least two occasions since Dinah and Tommy Lee did exist.

“You've been gone for ten years,” he reminded her quietly. “Things change.”

Dinah sat down on the edge of the bed looking thoroughly lost and confused. “Could they possibly have changed that much?”

“I guess you'll just have to ask them when they come back,” he said. “
If
they come back,” she said direly.

He beckoned to her, intent on improving her mood. “Come here.”

“Why?” she asked suspiciously.

“So I can make you forget all about your parents and whatever it is they're up to.”

She looked for an instant as if she were going to argue, but then she stripped off her robe and headed his way. “It's a good thing you have this amazing talent for
making me forget things,” she said. “But you're going to have to work really, really hard to pull it off this time.”

“I'll do my best,” he said modestly.

Something told him if he was going to spend a lifetime trying to get Dinah's mind to shut down, he was going to need some potent vitamins.

I
t had been so many years since Dorothy had done any thing as outrageous as climbing onto the back of a motorcycle that she couldn't even remember the occasion. Nor was she convinced that her proper, Southern gentleman husband had been involved.

Marshall had always been all about doing the right thing, which was just one reason she'd never really believed him capable of cheating on her. He'd had his life planned out from the time he was old enough to under stand that banking was the family business. She some times imagined him sitting behind his father's desk at the age of two learning how to sort little piles of money.

This evening, as he headed onto a country road shaded by live oaks draped in Spanish moss, she clung to him and rested her head against his back. It was far too noisy to ask all the questions running through her head, which meant all she could do was enjoy the totally unexpected ride.

If Marshall had been half as surprising and inventive as this back in their youth, maybe she never would have had her doubts about marrying him when they'd
first been pushed together by their respective parents. Maybe they never would have settled into the dull routine of their lives if she'd known he was capable of this adventurous streak.

Of course, the blame was partially hers. She'd never asked anything more of him than what he'd offered, which was a quiet devotion.

She smiled thinking about Marshall's mysterious call earlier in the afternoon. All he'd told her was to be ready at five and to dig in the closet for something casual that absolutely did not have a designer label on it.

“I'm talking jeans and sneakers,” he said adamantly. “Okay?”

“Have you lost your mind?” She wasn't even sure she owned such clothes anymore. Thank heavens, though, Dinah's closet was full of such outfits. Apparently it was close to being a uniform in her daughter's line of work.

To her surprise, Marshall had laughed. “No, coming to my senses, as a matter of fact. If you don't have what I'm talking about, go to one of the superstores. I'm sure they'll have whatever you need.”

“I imagine Dinah does, as well,” she admitted. “I'll borrow something from her. Amazingly enough, we're the same size.”

“Why is that a surprise? You're as slender as you were the day we met. But whatever you do, don't tell Dinah why you're stealing her wardrobe. She'll never let us hear the end of it.”

“See you at five.”

She'd hung up feeling the first faint stirring of anticipation that she'd felt in decades. Sneaking into Dinah's closet and finding something to wear had only added to the spirit of adventure. When, only a few min
utes later, she'd heard Dinah and Cord slipping into that very same bedroom, she'd relished the narrow escape.

Now, out here on this shaded, winding road, she wouldn't say it was nervous anticipation that had her stomach feeling all fluttery. It was more like plain old nerves. Riding a motorcycle was scary business at their age, but she had to admit it was as exhilarating as the sheer unexpectedness of it.

She hung on for dear life and gave herself up to sensation—the hard muscles in her husband's back, the throb of the engine between her thighs, the wind rushing past, the familiar scent of Old Spice, which Marshall had refused to trade for any of the more trendy, designer aftershaves men wore these days.

If this was his idea of a surprising first date to put some life back into their marriage, he had succeeded admirably. She was going to have to work hard to top it. Hang gliding, perhaps? Flying lessons? Up until today, she'd been thinking dance lessons, but now that seemed far too tame for two people who were still young enough to live on the edge a little. She refused to let the image of broken bones deter them.

With her mind drifting, Dorothy hadn't been paying much attention to where they were going. When Mar shall turned off the highway and onto the road to Covington Plantation, she was startled. Why here, of all places? He'd never shown a lick of interest in it before.

But maybe that was the point, she concluded, feeling a smile steal over her face. She was grinning from ear to ear when he skidded to a reckless stop in front of the gracious old house. He cut the engine and they both sat there, he with his gaze on the house, she trying to adapt to the sudden silence. It was the first time it had been
this quiet here in months. The workmen had obviously gone for the day.

Marshall finally climbed off the Harley and turned to help her off. He met her gaze, his eyes filled with a glint of uncertainty.

“How do you like the date so far?” he asked.

“It's not what I was expecting,” she said.

His gaze narrowed. His brow creased with worry. “Do you mean that in a good way?”

She stood on tiptoe and kissed him until the uncertainty disappeared from his eyes and the furrow in his brow eased. She'd never before known her husband to be anything but totally self-confident. Seeing the hint of vulnerability, knowing how hard he was trying to please her gave her even greater hope for the future.

“I mean it in the very best way,” she assured him. “I hate to tell you since we're in the middle of nowhere, but I'm actually starved. I skipped lunch, since I figured we'd be going someplace for dinner.”

He laughed. “Do you honestly think I'd let you starve to death? Assuming Cordell followed my instructions, everything's under control.”

It was yet another startling twist to this evening that seemed to be filled with them. “You spoke to Cord? I thought you didn't approve of him.”

He shrugged. “I realized I don't know him well enough to be judgmental. Since you seem rather fond of him, I called this morning to tell him what I had in mind. He said he'd handle it on this end. I must admit I was impressed by how quickly he caught on and how willing he was to help.”

Butterflies danced in Dorothy's stomach. “What on earth have you dreamed up, Marshall? I can't imagine what you've done.”

“Come with me,” he said. “Around back, I believe.”

Dorothy took his outstretched hand and walked with him around the side of the house. There, on the veranda that overlooked the gardens, was an elegantly set table with flowers and candles. Nearby sat a bottle of champagne chilling on ice.

“I wanted to go with lobster, since that's what we had on our wedding night, but I was afraid if we got held up it would spoil,” he said apologetically. “There should be a cooler around here with all the other dishes, though.”

Dorothy stared at him in amazement. “You remember what we ate on our wedding night?”

“Of course I do,” he said. “It was the most important night of my life.”

Her eyes suddenly swam with tears. “How have I missed it all these years?” she murmured with genuine regret.

“Missed what?” he asked, rubbing away the trail of tears with the pad of his thumb.

“That you're such a romantic?”

“I think we stopped looking at each other in that way years ago,” he said. “I realize now that it happens unless people make the effort to keep the romance alive.”

Dorothy wrapped her arms around her husband's waist and laid her cheek on his chest. “But we're not going to let that happen ever again, are we? Promise me that, Marshall.”

“We won't if I can help it.”

She lifted her gaze to meet his. “I do love you, Marshall. I think all this is what I missed. I thought I'd never have another chance at it.”

He gave her a sad look. “Were you ever tempted to find it with someone else?”

She thought of the mild flirtations that had kept her alive through the years, but that's all they'd been. Her loyalty to her husband had kept her from acting on them.

“Tempted,” she admitted candidly. “But you're my husband, Marshall. That means everything to me. What about you?”

“No one ever measured up to you,” he told her. “They couldn't.”

“Why did we let things drift along for so many years?” she asked him. “Why didn't we fight for this?”

“Maybe it just wasn't time,” he said. “But we'll get it back, Dorothy. One date at a time.”

“You've set a pretty high standard,” she lamented. “What on earth will I be able to do to top it?”

“All you've ever needed to do to keep the magic alive for me is to be by my side.”

“You deserve more,” she said at once. “And I promise I'll think of something. Meantime, let's see what sort of food has been left here for us.”

In the cooler there was a Caesar salad, a chilled potato soup, cold roasted chicken and strawberries with a huge bowl of whipped cream. Dorothy grinned when she saw them.

“Did we actually eat the strawberries on our wedding night or did we put the whipped cream to a better use?” she inquired, a teasing note in her voice.

Her husband gave her a wicked grin. “Surely you remember that much,” he replied. “I certainly found it memorable.”

She regarded him with genuine affection. “It's coming back to me.”

Over the years she'd forgotten that there had been very good times. Not everything had been about her
resentment over the unexpected pregnancy or being trapped into a marriage she wasn't ready for. In fact be fore she'd found out she was carrying Dinah, she and Marshall had been wonderful friends and lovers.

She met her husband's gaze. “Why did you decide to come here for dinner? I was so sure you'd opt for one of Charleston's fine restaurants, the way we usually do for special occasions.”

His expression sobered. “Too ordinary for a night like this. Besides, I know how much this place means to you. I also know I haven't shown nearly enough interest in the things that matter to you. I wanted you to understand that I intend to change that, starting tonight.”

“Thank you,” she said, touched.

“Will you give me a tour later?”

“I'm not sure if we have any working lights in the place,” she said.

He gestured toward the candles on the table. “We can tour by candlelight. It can be the start of a tradition for this place, an annual candlelight tour.”

She grinned. “Don't those usually happen at Christmas?”

“We'll make this a private tour,” he suggested. “Surely there will be some perks for the woman who made all this happen.”

“If there aren't any planned, I'll definitely see to it,” she said, reaching across the table and linking her hand with his.

“Of course you will. You've always done anything you set your mind to.”

“I didn't make a good marriage for us,” she lamented.

“You can't take the blame for that. It belongs to both
of us,” he said. “And from this moment on, we're not looking back. We're looking forward. Agreed?”

She looked into his brilliant eyes and saw the possibilities. “Agreed,” she whispered softly. Tonight wasn't a panacea, but it was a magnificent start.

 

“What on earth do you suppose my parents were thinking?” Dinah fretted as she and Cord sat in the kitchen eating the fried chicken, collard greens and cornbread that Maybelle had left for them. Everything was considerably colder than it had been intended to be, because it had taken them a long time to slip out of her bed once they'd known for certain they were alone in the house.

“That they wanted to do something outrageous,” Cord said.

“But why? My parents aren't the type to do outrageous things.”

“Maybe they are. How well do children ever really know their parents? Few of us ever see them as people. We put them into the parent niche and expect them to stay there, for better or worse.”

She regarded him curiously. “In your case it was for the worse, wasn't it?”

His gaze shut down. “Bobby and I did okay.”

“But it must have been so awful to have kids like me treating you as if you weren't good enough to associate with us and then to have a lousy support system at home, too,” she said. “I'm sorry.”

“I've been all grown up for a long time now. I survived. I don't need you deciding to pity me at this late date.”

She was about to apologize for that, too, but she realized he wouldn't appreciate it. Better to let the subject
drop. However miserable Cord's childhood had been, he hadn't let it hold him back.

In the silence that fell, she went back to thinking about her parents. “Where do you suppose they went? I can't imagine they're having dinner in some biker bar, though, come to think of it my mother was certainly dressed for it. I have the strangest feeling those clothes she had on came out of my closet with the possible exception of the T-shirt. I have no clue where that came from.”

She glanced at Cord and thought she detected a vaguely guilty expression on his face. “You know something, don't you?” she accused.

He grinned. “Just a little,” he admitted.

“Spill it now.”

He shook his head. “I'm not sure I should.”

“Did anyone specifically ask you to keep it a secret?”

“No.”

“Then you won't be breaking any confidences by telling me,” she concluded triumphantly. “Spill it.”

He leaned back in his chair and gave her a long, considering look. “What are you going to do with the information if I give it to you?”

“Well, assuming their lives aren't in imminent danger, I'm not going to do anything.”

“Then this is nothing more than curiosity?” he asked, amusement appointment in his eyes.

“Curiosity, concern, whatever. Tell me.” She frowned as another thought occurred to her. “And while you're at it, tell me why you know about this and I don't.”

“I know because your father needed my help.”

Now there was a stunning twist. Dinah couldn't imagine her father turning to Cord for assistance with any-
thing. “Did he want you to build something?” she asked, mystified.