The Backup Plan (3 page)

 

All during the tedious meetings at Covington Plantation, Dorothy had been distracted. She couldn't seem to shake the feeling that something was going on with her daughter. Dinah hadn't been herself since she'd arrived home.

Her gentle resistance to all the dinner parties was to be expected. She'd always hated that sort of fuss. But isolating herself in the house and only reluctantly talking about her work made Dorothy think that the close call Dinah had minimized months ago might have taken more of a toll than she'd led them to believe.

Since there was never a chance to talk to Marshall about any of this—or anything else—at home, Dorothy made a detour to his office at the bank. Based on the stunned reactions of everyone she greeted there, she concluded it had been far too long since she'd paid her husband an impulsive visit. In fact, there had been little spontaneity in their lives for a very long time. It was just one worrisome aspect of their marriage lately.

When she entered his office, Marshall was on the phone. He gave her a distracted wave and kept right on talking. She gazed around at the room she'd helped him to decorate years ago when he'd first taken over the presidency and was shocked to discover that many of her carefully selected furnishings had been replaced. The color scheme was bolder and, to her eye, far more modern and jarring than suited a sedate banking establishment. Nothing in the room spoke of the bank's conservative tradition.

She doubted the change had been Marshall's idea. Her husband cared little for that sort of thing. He must have given carte blanche to someone to redecorate. She found that oddly disturbing. There had been a time when
they discussed everything going on at the bank, when he relied on her opinion and taste. When had that stopped? Months ago? Years?

Were the bright artworks and sleek leather and chrome furnishings symptomatic of the problems she'd been ignoring in their marriage? Had they grown so far apart, communicated so little, that something like this could happen without her even knowing about it? It was a minor thing, but it forced her to face the fact that she hardly knew what was going on in her husband's life anymore.

She looked at her husband with dismay and wondered where they'd gone wrong. They were only in their early fifties, too young to have drifted so completely apart.

When Marshall finally hung up, he regarded her not with the delight he once would have shown, but with a trace of impatience.

“I didn't know you were coming by,” he said. “I have a meeting in less than ten minutes.”

She swallowed the first bitter retort that came to mind and said briskly, “Then I'll finish what I have to say in nine minutes. I want to talk to you about Dinah.”

He looked startled by that. “What about her?”

“Something's wrong, Marshall. Haven't you seen it?”

He shook his head, his expression still blank. “She seems fine to me.”

“You don't find it odd that she's barely left the house?”

“What are you talking about, Dorothy? She's left the house. She's had lunch with me three or four times in the last week.”

“Because you made the arrangements and told her where to go,” she said impatiently. “And she turns up
for dinner because I tell her what time to be downstairs. But there's no life in her, no spark. She stays in her room or sits in the garden and broods. It's not like her.”

He looked bemused. “She's rarely home, so you can't say if it's like her or not these days. Hell, after all she's been through, she's entitled to some peace and quiet. All this commotion we've stirred up has probably been too much for her. After all, this entertaining we've been doing is a far cry from the kind of life she's been used to the past few years. Maybe we've crammed in too much of it at once.”

“That's pretty much what she said,” Dorothy acknowledged.

“Well, there you have it,” he said, clearly satisfied that the problem was solved. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get ready for this meeting.”

His dismissal was annoying. Dorothy stood and started for the door, but then she turned back. “When did you redecorate in here?”

Marshall looked up from his papers, clearly disconcerted by the question. “A few months ago. Why?”

“I'm just surprised you didn't ask for my help.”

“You've been tied up with your own projects,” he replied. “I had my secretary hire a decorator.”

“And you like what they did?” she asked, not sure why any of it mattered so much.

He looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time. He shrugged. “It's a change.”

“It certainly is,” she said tartly. “And not for the better.”

Feeling thoroughly disgruntled by the whole exchange, Dorothy stalked out of his office, her back rigid, her temper barely in check. She'd started the day
with one worry on her mind—her daughter. Now she had two.

Her marriage, which she'd always accepted as faintly staid, but solid, was anything but secure. She'd been around long enough to know that enough tiny little fissures could seriously undermine the foundation of the most fortified structure. Discovering that her marriage was riddled with such fissures was a shock.

Unfortunately, for the moment Dinah had to be her priority. She simply had to hope that when she got around to focusing on her own life, it wouldn't be too late.

 

Cord Beaufort lazily swatted at the fly circling his bottle of now-lukewarm beer. It was the end of a steamy, grueling day, a day that had tested his patience and sent his nerves into more of an uproar than the last time he'd engaged in far more pleasurable, rambunctious sex.

He'd met with the board of directors for Covington Plantation and to a man—and woman—they were the most impossible, exasperating group of self-important human beings he'd ever had the misfortune to work for. They wanted to micromanage everything and not one of them had the expertise for it.

Worse, he'd had to wear a suit and tie, even though the temperature was pushing ninety. If there was one thing he hated more than placating a bunch of wealthy, egotistical bosses, it was wearing a suit and pretending not to be bored to tears while they yammered on and on. Things that should have been decided in less than an hour had taken the whole damn day.

Stretched out in a well-used Pawleys Island hammock strung between two ancient live oaks, he now wore comfortable jeans and nothing else. He was trying his best not to move a muscle until a breeze stirred, which
probably wouldn't happen until November. He was not feeling especially optimistic at the moment.

The sound of a car bouncing along the dirt lane leading to his house did nothing to improve his mood. He wasn't feeling any more sociable than he was optimistic. He'd left all the ruts in the damn road as a way of discouraging visitors. Most people had long since got ten the message.

When the car finally came into view, he tried to place it and couldn't. The sight of a pair of long, shapely, bare legs emerging from the front seat, however, did improve his outlook marginally. Only one woman in all of South Carolina had legs like that. And she pretty much hated his guts. He couldn't say he blamed her.

If all the rumors he'd been hearing were right and Dinah Davis had decided to come home and appear on his doorstep it could only mean one thing. She was here to redeem the idiotic offer his brother Bobby had made to her years ago. Bobby, much as Cord loved him, was a damned fool. Who'd want a woman whenever she felt like it, even if that woman was as drop-dead gorgeous as Dinah Davis?

Cord watched her as she exited her car, wondering if her uppity mama knew she was going around town in a pair of shorts that left little to the imagination, and a halter top that wasn't exactly on the approved fashion list for a one-time Charleston debutante who never strayed from the straight and narrow. Right now she looked more like somebody he wouldn't mind taking a tumble with, which would flat-out horrify her mama.

Then again, maybe Dinah's choice of attire explained why Mrs. Davis had been on such a royal tear at the
board meeting today. A rebellious daughter, even one who was thirty-one or so and internationally famous, could unsettle an uptight woman.

“Well, well,” he murmured as Dinah lifted her chin with a familiar touch of defiance and started in his direction. “Just look at what the cat dragged in.”

Bright patches of color immediately flooded her cheeks and her devastating, dark blue eyes flashed with irritation, but her good breeding quickly kicked in. She was, after all, on his turf. An uninvited guest with manners, Cord thought with amusement as he awaited her response.

“Good evening, Cordell,” she said, her voice as sweet as syrup, yet unmistakably insincere. “I see your manners haven't improved with age.”

“Not much,” he agreed, refusing to take offense. “Time's been kind to you, though. You're as pretty as Miss Scarlett and twice as tough, judging from what I've seen of you on TV.”

“I'm amazed you watch network news,” she said. “I thought the cartoon channel would be more to your liking.”

“Sugar, I'm a man. Surfing channels is in my nature. Even I slow down when I see a hometown girl lighting up the screen in my living room, while bombs blow things up behind her.”

“Yes, I imagine it gives you something to fantasize about on one of your lonely nights,” she said, her voice cool with disdain.

“I am never lonely except by choice.” Lately, though, he was making that choice more and more. Women, gorgeous and fascinating though they could surely be, were proving to be more trouble than they were worth.

Dinah gave him a withering look signaling that she found his claim laughable.

“As pleasant as it is chatting with you,” she said in that same syrupy voice that was all about properly bred, South Carolina manners, “I'm here to see Bobby. Is he around?”

Cord took a long, slow sip of beer and an insolent, long, slow head-to-toe survey of her before replying. “Nope.”

She regarded him with unmistakable impatience. “Expected back?”

Cord saw no reason to help her out when he disapproved so heartily of her apparent mission. “Eventually.”

“Which means exactly what?”

He grinned. Riling Dinah had always been a snap. It was a pure pleasure to see that hadn't changed. “I thought I was clear enough. He'll be back when he gets back. You know how it goes with us lazy, good-for-nothing Beauforts. We're not much on timetables.”

Dinah sighed heavily, which had a fascinating effect on the rise and fall of her barely clad breasts. Cord wondered if she had any notion of the raw sensuality she projected or just how close he was to summoning the energy to drag her straight into his arms and give her the kiss she was half-begging for. Probably not or she'd have hightailed it out of here, instead of pestering him for answers he would not give her. He intended to protect Bobby from his own foolishness.

“Is Bobby due back tonight? Tomorrow? Next week?” she asked, her tone impatient.

“Could be next week,” he said, then shrugged. “Maybe not.”

“Has anyone ever told you how impossible you are?”

“Before you?” he asked.

She scowled.

Cord grinned. “Now that you mention it, I believe your mama said something very similar to me just this afternoon.”

Her eyes widened, pleasing Cord with the fact that he could still surprise her. Shocking Dinah had been one of his primary delights back when she and Bobby had been dating. It had been a long time since he'd taken such pleasure in stirring a woman's temper or her dismay.

“Where on earth did you see my mother?” she inquired.

Her tone suggested he surely must have done something illegal to have such an encounter with an upper-crust paragon. If Dinah weren't so cute up there on her high horse, he might be insulted that she couldn't imagine any circumstance under which he and Dorothy Rawlings Davis would cross paths.

“Out and about,” he replied mildly. “Charleston is, after all, a small town in many ways. In fact, I do believe that was why you were so anxious to leave.”

“I left to attend college and pursue a career,” she said, her voice tight as her cool gaze raked over him. “Maybe that's something you should consider doing.”

He held up his beer and gestured around him. “Why leave? If you ask me, it doesn't get much better than this—a roof over my head, a little money in the bank, a cool drink and up until a few minutes ago plenty of peace and quiet.”

“Thank heaven your brother doesn't share your total lack of ambition,” she said.

Her uppity little tone of voice was starting to get on
his nerves. He frowned at the comparison in which he came out wanting. He could have told her a few things about what he'd been up to, but why bother? She enjoyed thinking of him as a low-life. Why take that plea sure away from her when she'd just gotten back to town? It would be so much more fun for him watching her eat those words later.

“Please tell Bobby I'm home and looking forward to seeing him,” she said. “You can remember a simple message, can't you?”

“If I put my mind to it,” Cord agreed. Not that he in tended to. Dinah Davis would eat his brother alive. Bobby didn't need the aggravation. Of course, the last time he'd tried thinking for his brother and interfering in his so-called romance with Dinah, there had been hell to pay.

“Well, try real hard,” she said.

Then she sashayed back to her car, providing him with a fantastic view of her very fine derriere. Cord shook his head. Too bad she was so aggravating. Otherwise, he might enjoy tangling with her himself. In stead, he'd just content himself with keeping Bobby out of her clutches.

“I
don't know how Bobby and Cordell could possibly come from the same gene pool,” Dinah told her friend Maggie as they sipped iced tea on the veranda of Maggie's converted gatehouse a few blocks from the harbor in the historic downtown section of Charleston. “Bobby is sweet and kind and smart and ambitious. Cordell is…” For a woman who made her living with words, she couldn't find any to describe just what a low-down scoundrel she thought he was.

“Handsome, smart, sexy as sin,” Maggie supplied.

Dinah regarded her with amazement. “Are you crazy?”

“Don't tell me you didn't notice,” Maggie teased. “That's why you're all tongue-tied and pink-cheeked. What was he wearing? Jeans and nothing else, am I right?” She fanned herself in an exaggerated gesture designed to make a point. “He's the only man I know who can turn denim into a proper fashion statement.” Her grin spread. “Or should I say improper?”

“I didn't notice,” Dinah claimed piously.

“Like hell, you didn't. You're a female, aren't you?
All women notice Cordell's…” She paused significantly, then added, “Attributes.”

“Magnolia Forsythe! A lady does not utter such a comment about a gentleman.”

Maggie grinned at the direct quotation uttered all too frequently by their prim principal throughout their grammar school days. “According to you, Cordell is no gentleman. Give it up, girl. You've been gone a long time and probably hiding out in caves for much of it. The only reason you're so upset with Cord is because he made you sit up and take notice of what a real man looks like.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Dinah declared emphatically. Seeing Cord had reinforced just what an ill-mannered lowlife he was. He'd always taken an inordinate amount of pleasure in aggravating her. Nor would she ever for get or forgive what he'd once done to try to drive a wedge between her and Bobby. “I wouldn't give him a second look if he were the last man on earth. Bobby overcame those unfortunate Beaufort genes, but Cord certainly hasn't. He's pond scum. Always was. Always will be.”

Maggie's knowing smile spread.

“Well, he is,” Dinah insisted.

“Whatever you say, though you were far less judgmental when we were in grammar school. Weren't you the one who insisted that both Cord and Bobby needed to be included in our birthday parties, even when our folks cringed at the very idea of it?”

“I was thinking of Bobby,” Dinah insisted. “I didn't want his feelings to be hurt. After all, he was our classmate. He's the one who insisted on dragging Cord along. He worshipped his big brother, though Lord knows why.”

“And you didn't give two figs about Cord's feelings?” Maggie asked, her skepticism plain.

Dinah frowned. “Okay, yes. Maybe a little. It would have been rude to leave him out. Neither one of them could help that they were poor. Bobby took the opportunities they were given and made something of himself. Cord's apparently as lazy as ever.”

Maggie merely raised a brow at that. “And I thought journalists were supposed to gather facts, not leap to conclusions.”

There was something in her friend's tone as well as her words that suggested Dinah had gotten it all wrong. “Why have you turned into some big defender of Cord Beaufort all of a sudden?”

“I'm not. I'm just encouraging you to do your research before you rip apart a man you haven't seen in years,” Maggie said defensively.

“Are you telling me I'm mistaken?”

“I'm telling you to do a little of that investigative reporting you're so famous for.”

The chiding note in Maggie's voice silenced Dinah. She took a long swallow of her sweet tea and sighed. It was a little like drinking ice-cold syrup. “This is heaven. I haven't had tea like this since I left home.”

“It's about time you remembered some of the good things about living here,” Maggie said lightly. “Maybe you'll come home more often.”

Dinah hesitated before responding. She'd known Maggie since they'd made mud pies together in pre-school. Of all the girls at their fancy private school, they'd been the only two who hadn't been afraid to get their pretty little school dresses dirty. They'd become best friends growing up together, sharing confidences, talking about boys and sex, hopes and dreams.

Maggie was the first one Dinah had told when she'd decided to defy parental expectations by going after a job as a foreign correspondent rather than marrying well. Maybe it was only fitting that she be the first one Dinah told that she was quitting her dream job.

“Actually, I'm about eighty percent sure I'm here to stay,” Dinah said quietly. Despite the fact that she'd said the words to herself before leaving Afghanistan, she hadn't entirely believed them. Now that she was home she knew the chances of her returning to her network career were decreasing daily. She wasn't getting any happier about it, just more resigned to the fact that Ray Mitchell had been right. If she could sit around for an entire afternoon sipping sweet tea without getting antsy and bored, then she couldn't ignore the probability that she had lost the hunger, drive and insight required of a top-notch reporter. Maybe quitting had been the smart thing to do, after all. Maybe it hadn't been the colossal mistake she'd assumed it was the minute the words had left her mouth.

Maggie let out an exuberant whoop not unlike Maybelle's, then sobered at once. “Why?” she demanded, her gaze raking over Dinah. “You didn't go and get yourself shot or something, did you? Not after that close call you had a few months back. That must have been awful, by the way. I told your mama to give you my love.”

“She did,” Dinah confirmed. “And no, nothing's happened since then.”

“Then you're not recuperating? You didn't catch some fatal disease?”

“No, I wasn't shot and I'm not sick,” Dinah said. Her soul had broken and it couldn't be mended in any hospital or even by a long rest at home. “I'm just tired.”

“Well, why on earth wouldn't you be? Sometimes
when I see you on the air and realize where you are and what you've seen, my heart just aches for you. Your mama and daddy must be over the moon knowing you're safe and back for good.”

“Actually I haven't told them yet. You're the only one who knows. Well, besides Maybelle, and I've sworn her to secrecy. I'm asking you to keep this quiet, too. I'm not ready to explain it to anyone.” She gave Maggie a pointed look. “Not even you, okay?”

“No, it most definitely is not okay,” Maggie said. “What is wrong with you? What's to explain? Tell them, Di. They'll be ecstatic.” She regarded Dinah with concern. “If it's something you can't tell your parents, surely you can tell me. You know I'll be discreet. I never told a living soul that you spent the night with Bobby after prom, instead of with me, did I? I won't say a word about whatever you tell me now.”

“I know you wouldn't, but my mind's still reeling. I need to work this out before I talk about it. As for my parents being ecstatic, I'm not so sure about that,” Dinah said. “It's true that they weren't that happy when I left. Mother thinks anything outside South Carolina's borders is Satan's turf, but they've come to enjoy bragging about their little girl being a foreign correspondent. I think they're going to be disappointed that I'm giving it up.”

“Don't you believe that for one single second,” Maggie scoffed. “I can't tell you how often your mama has said how much she misses you and wishes you'd come back here and settle down and give her some grandbabies.” She grinned impudently. “Those brats of your brother's can't be much fun,” she said, then amended politely, “No disrespect intended.”

Dinah laughed. “They are out of control, aren't they?
They were at the house for dinner night before last and it was all I could do not to suggest we hogtie 'em and leave 'em in the backyard till the rest of us had finished having a civilized meal. If my children turn out like that, please take me out and shoot me.”

“You couldn't possibly have children like that,” Maggie said loyally. “You were raised by a Rawlings.”

“So was Tommy Lee,” Dinah noted, thinking about how oblivious her brother had seemed to his children's bad behavior during the family dinner. He and their father had been at odds, too. She supposed she ought to sit down with Tommy Lee and figure out what was bugging him, but she knew she needed to get her own life straightened out before she could be a help to anyone else, even her own brother.

Maggie gave her a disbelieving look. “Maybe your mama influenced Tommy Lee, but men aren't the ones who teach their children good manners. It's left up to women. And your sister-in-law's as sweet as can be, but she wasn't exactly raised by a woman familiar with Emily Post's rules on etiquette.”

Lord knows, that was true enough, Dinah thought. Her brother's wife had narrowly escaped a troubled past and an uncertain future when she'd met Tommy Lee under circumstances no one ever dared ask about. That the two were head over heels in love had been enough for everyone to look the other way, with the possible exception of Dorothy Davis who made repeated attempts to bring her daughter-in-law up to her own high standards of conduct.

Unfortunately, all the lessons in the world weren't going to turn Laurinda into anybody's notion of a genteel Southern belle. Dinah almost admired the stubborn way she'd clung to her own identity. Standing up
to Dorothy Davis took more courage than Dinah had ever had. In fact, her tendency to let her mother push her into doing things was one of the very many reasons she'd been so anxious to escape Charleston. It was bad enough that she'd undergone the torment of a debutante ball, but the prospect of having a lavish wedding to a suitable, hand-chosen man had been more than she could bear. She'd just about literally run for her life.

Now she was back and within the scope of all her mother's plans. It didn't bear thinking about.

“Let's not talk about Laurie and Tommy Lee,” Dinah begged since thinking about those two had sent her off down memory lane.

“Then let's get back to you,” Maggie agreed readily. “Why were you over at the Beauforts' last night, any way?”

“I went looking for Bobby.”

Maggie's gaze narrowed with suspicion. “Because?”

“He's an old friend, just like you. What other reason do I need?” Dinah asked, aware that a defensive note had crept into her voice.

Maggie regarded her blandly. “I don't suppose it had anything at all to do with that ridiculous backup plan you two devised when you graduated from college and turned down his proposal.”

Dinah winced. That was the problem with sharing confidences with a woman who never forgot anything. Still, she feigned ignorance. “Backup plan?”

“You know, the one where the two of you get married if no one better comes along. I believe it was to kick in when your biological clock started ticking too loudly. I'm certain it was all on your terms. To this day I have no idea what Bobby got out of it, other than some dim hope that you'd eventually come to your senses.”

Dinah cringed at the suggestion that she'd manipulated that agreement out of Bobby and that she was taking advantage of him even now. “You make it sound as if Bobby's nothing more than a last resort.”

“Isn't he?”

“Of course not. I just want to get together with him and catch up.”

“Is that some euphemism for getting him into your bed?”

“You're being crass again,” Dinah accused. “It's not about sex.”

“Then you've given up fame and fortune and rushed home because you suddenly had an epiphany in the middle of Afghanistan and realized that you're wildly in love with him?” Maggie asked skeptically. “Because that's the only reason that would justify you getting that poor man's hopes all stirred up again after all these years.”

“I've always loved Bobby,” Dinah replied carefully. Not that he'd crossed her mind more than a half-dozen times in recent years and always with more fondness than passion. Good marriages had been built on a whole lot less, she told herself.

“Not the same thing as being in love with him,” Maggie replied. “Does your heart go pitter-pat when you see him?”

“I haven't seen him in ten years,” she retorted irritably. The truth was her pulse had never skipped so much as a single beat at the sight of Bobby. He'd been comfortable and back then that's all she'd wanted, a man who wouldn't tangle her emotions into knots. That had left her free to pursue her own dreams.

Deep down Dinah recognized that Cord had seen her intentions and had set out in his own way to protect
his brother, but Bobby hadn't wanted his protection and she'd been shocked and angry that Cord would betray his brother's trust the way he had.

“How would I know if Bobby turns me on?” she grumbled defensively.

“My point precisely,” Maggie said, clearly satisfied. She gave Dinah a knowing look. “I'll bet Bobby has never once gotten you all worked up the way Cordell did just last night. Now there is a man worth throwing away a career just so you can have him climbing into your bed.”

Dinah thought of the way her blood had sizzled through her veins within ten seconds of trying to carry on a sensible conversation with Cord Beaufort. That was irritation, plain and simple. He'd been annoying her like that since they were toddlers.

“Bobby is sweet and kind and smart,” she repeated emphatically.

“And dull as dishwater,” Maggie countered. “You'll be bored stiff in a week.”

“And you think Cord would be an improvement?”

“Definitely.”

“You're out of your mind.” The very last thing she needed in her life was a man who made her feel prickly and restless, the kind of man who prided himself on taking women on some sort of emotional roller-coaster ride. She'd given up danger when she'd left Afghanistan.