The Hostage Bride (2 page)

“It happens to be a full twenty minutes before quitting time, Eddie.” Tamara walked to her desk in the small windowless office. “You may not have any work to do, but I have.”

“So? Leave it.” Eddie Collier followed her to the desk, unabashed by her rejection of his advance. “Stein’s busy. He won’t be back.
What’s the difference if you leave early anyway? He’s sold us out to be absorbed by a giant.”

“Where did you hear that?” She suspected he was fishing for confirmation and she wasn’t going to be the one to supply it.

“Stein paid a visit to the sales and service department before he came here,” he informed her with a mocking look. “So you aren’t letting anything out of the bag, my secretive beauty.”

Tamara let the compliment slide past her. Eddie Collier was too free with them. His glibly complimenting tongue was a vital part of his forceful charm. Because of that, his good looks, and his salesman’s refusal to take no for an answer, he was very successful at his job … and with women.

“You don’t look exactly overjoyed by the news,” he observed.

“It doesn’t change my position.” Her long fingers began tapping out the numbers of a column of figures on the keys of the adding machine. She noticed Eddie moving away from her desk and hoped he was leaving. She wasn’t in any mood to spar with him.

But leaving wasn’t his intention. Instead he walked over to pull the plug to the adding machine from the wall socket. It instantly went dead. Tamara pressed her sensually formed lips together in a thin line.

“Will you plug that back in? I don’t have time for this playing around.” Tamara made no attempt to disguise her irritation under a mask of politeness.

“All work and no play makes Jill very dull,” Eddie taunted.

“I am very dull. Why don’t you accept it?” she retorted.

“Because no one who is as beautiful as you are could possibly be dull.” He ignored her request to walk around the desk and sit on the corner near her chair.

When Tamara rolled the chair away from her desk to plug the adding machine in herself, Eddie’s hands captured both armrests to trap her in the chair. His brown eyes ran suggestively over the molding lines of her brown tweed jacket, lingered on the angrily beating pulse in her throat, and stopped to admire the flawlessly put together features of her oval face, wiped smooth of any expression. Ash blond hair formed a pale frame, sleeked away from her face into a businesslike coil. Neither the severity of her clothes nor her hairstyle could diminish the image of her aesthetic femininity. Long and unusually dark lashes outlined the blue of her eyes, shooting out electric sparks of irritation.

Tamara was aware of her natural beauty, which gave her an immunity against Eddie’s particular brand of flattery. She had never regarded her looks as an asset or a liability. The reflected image she saw in the mirror every morning was something she took for granted. Intelligence, personality, and a sense of humor were far more important qualities to her than mere looks.

“Would you move out of my way so I can finish
my work?” she requested with an impatient attempt at civility.

There was a vague, negative movement of his head. “Have dinner with me,” he stated. “And we’ll celebrate our incorporation into the world of the big time.”

“You know it’s impossible. I have to go straight home.” She had told him so many times that he should have it memorized by now.

“Then I’ll come home with you. We’ll have dinner, a little soft music, some quiet conversation, and—”

“No, thank you.” Tamara refused that suggestion abruptly. “The last time I invited you over for an evening, it turned into a wrestling match on the couch. Sorry, but I’m not interested in a repeat performance.”

“But our match didn’t go the full three falls,” Eddie pointed out, and reached to trace a finger down her cheek to her lips. “You might have liked it the third time.”

Tamara brushed his hand away. “You are about as subtle as an octopus, Eddie,” she declared in disgust. All pawing hands and no finesse, she could have added but didn’t. “Why don’t you take the hint and leave me alone? I’m simply not interested.”

“The lady protests too much,” he mused.

Anger flared in her blue eyes. “Obviously it’s more than your ego can stand to be rejected. You’ve dated every single girl who works here, and probably a few who aren’t single. I am probably the only one who has not begun panting
after you the first time you turned those dark eyes on me.”

Something flickered in his gaze, but it was quickly pushed aside. “You need someone to take care of you, Tamara. You view life much too seriously. Let your hair down once in a while. Enjoy life and have fun.” He used his most persuasive voice.

“Men. I don’t need anyone to take care of me, although I know you wish I were one of those helpless females. I’m not sorry that I take responsibility seriously.” She saw the expression forming on his face and hurried to kill it. “Don’t say that you want to share my problems. The only thing you want to share is my bed. I can’t think of anything more boring.” It was brutally phrased, but nothing else had worked.

Eddie straightened, removing his hands from her chair’s armrests. “You are just saying that,” he accused, his male pride doubting she meant it.

“I’m saying it because I’m tired of trying to politely tell you no and have you insist I mean yes.” Tamara sighed wearily. “Nothing personal, but you turn me off, Eddie. Would you mind leaving my office? I have some work that I need to finish and I’d like to get home as soon as possible.”

“Your world revolves around this office and home, doesn’t it?” he murmured, standing away from her desk. He didn’t look angry, but neither did he look pleased. “Somewhere you should fit in time for friends.”

“I do need a friend right now, but that isn’t what you are offering.” Her mouth twisted wryly in regret. After Stein’s shocking announcement, Tamara desperately wished for someone to confide in, but she was equally aware that Eddie wasn’t the one. “Good night, Eddie.” She let the farewell prompt him into leaving.

He started to go, then paused to plug the cord into the wall socket. “You’ll never be lonely, Tamara. You have your work to keep you company. Maybe you have a computer for a heart.”

“If it consoles your ego, go ahead and believe it,” she replied with dry humor, and turned to the column of figures that needed tabulating.

“You work too much with facts and figures. Life isn’t a bunch of statistics. It’s feelings and emotions. You need reprogramming.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she promised without looking up from her work.

When he’d left, Tamara let her fingers pause on the keys of the adding machine to stare at the door he had closed. Was she too realistic? She had to be. Life had to be faced squarely. No one was going to come along and miraculously sweep her problems away. It wasn’t a rose-colored world she lived in, but she had acquired the strength to carry her burden and didn’t object to the load. Eddie’s line of thinking led to self-pity. Nothing would be solved by that.

However, it was true that she regretted the absence of a real friend. Over these last few years, the friendships she’d shared had withered away. It was understandable. A person had to devote time to friendships to keep them flourishing
and growing, but she hadn’t been permitted that time. And the giving couldn’t be all on one side. She had accepted that fact without protest.

Her gaze returned to the column of figures. Just for a second, her blood ran cold with fear at the thought of the impending merger. Tamara quelled the sensation of rising panic. There would be a rational solution. Nothing was ever as hopeless as it seemed. What was the worst that could happen?—she might lose her job. With her qualifications, she could easily obtain another position as a bookkeeper. To be fired was the worst that could happen, Tamara kept insisting to herself. Harold Stein would intervene in her behalf if anything worse was threatened.

A glance at her watch started her fingers tapping out the numbers on the keys of the adding machine. But it was a quarter past five before she finished, which meant she had missed her bus and had to wait for the next one.

Impatient to be home, her restless gaze didn’t notice the budding green of the trees on the Kansas City boulevard the bus took. The glinting rays of a lowering sun turned the water spewing from a stone fountain into a golden shower. It was something she saw but didn’t appreciate as she kept glancing at her watch and waiting for her corner to be reached.

It was a two-block walk from the bus stop to the small, one-story house of stucco with green shutters at the windows. Tulips bobbed their heads as Tamara hurried up the steps to the door. The first blooms of the lilac bush near the house had begun to scent the air with their
fragrance. There was a passing thought that her mother would appreciate a bouquet in her room before Tamara hurried inside the house.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Sadie,” she apologized the instant she saw the tall, broad-shouldered woman wearing brown slacks and a cardigan enter the living room. “It was after five before I got away from the office—then I missed my bus. I hope I haven’t made you late for anything.”

“Gracious, no!” The woman dismissed the suggestion with a gruff laugh. “The only thing waiting for me at my apartment is the television set.”

Tamara lowered her voice to ask, “How’s Mom?”

A smile softened the angular features of the nurse’s face. “See for yourself.”

Leaving her purse and jacket on an occasional table, she walked with light, quick steps to the archway Sadie Kent had just come through. Her spirits were lifted by the sight of the thin woman sitting in a cushioned armchair.

“I don’t need to ask how you feel today, do I?” Her usually composed features became animated as she bent to kiss a pale cheek. “Hello, Mom.”

“Hello. How was your day?” The words were said slowly and carefully to conceal the faint slur of her speech pattern.

“Fine,” Tamara lied. “What did you do today?”

“I watched my soap operas, but I am not going to bore you with their troubles.” A fragment of a smile curved at her mother’s mouth, but her muscles weren’t able to maintain it. Yet there
was a definite twinkle in her eyes, blue like her daughter’s.

Each day Tamara asked a similar question and always received a similar response that dismissed any discussion of her mother’s day. It had to be utterly boring to be confined in the four walls of one room, but it was typical of her mother not to complain. Only once had Tamara ever heard her mother cry out in protest. Then it had been a simple and poignant “Why?” when the doctor had informed her she had a debilitating disease that was slowly but surely killing her muscles. That had been three years and innumerable medical bills ago.

With each passing day, Tamara had observed that as her mother grew weaker, her spirit grew stronger. It was impossible to pity someone who didn’t pity themselves. Her mother was a source of inspiration. As long as she didn’t wail in despair, neither could Tamara.

These last few months, her mother’s condition had deteriorated rapidly, as the doctor had warned them it would. She couldn’t even do the simplest things for herself anymore, which was why Tamara had employed a nurse to stay with her mother while she was working.

The endless treatments, the drugs, Sadie’s salary, the doctor’s bill had long ago exhausted their meager savings. The house was mortgaged to the full extent of its worth. Even the inheritance her mother had received eight months ago from some distant relative was gone. Three months ago, Tamara had been at her wits end, not knowing which way to turn, until a solution
had presented itself to her. She would have to come up with another answer now, but she had been given intelligence as well as beauty. She was confident she would find it—somehow.

She pushed that problem aside for the time being. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving, Mom. Is there anything special you’d like for dinner tonight?”

“A steak, medium rare. A baked potato, heaping with sour cream. And a slice of cheesecake,” her mother ordered in her carefully concise voice.

“One steak, ground and medium rare, coming up,” Tamara joked. It had been so long since the grocery budget had been able to buy a steak that Tamara doubted if she recalled what one would taste like. Hamburger and stew meat was about the only beef she purchased, balanced by fish and chicken. “First, I’m going to change clothes.”

“Relax awhile first. You don’t have to rush right out to the kitchen to fix supper,” her mother insisted.

But Tamara just smiled. She returned to the living room as Sadie was about to leave. “Thanks for staying late,” Tamara offered.

“You don’t have to thank me. Nurses are supposed to become involved with their patients, but you know how fond I’ve grown of your mother. I would stay with her for nothing.” Sadie brushed away the gratitude.

“I hope the day never comes when I might have to ask you to do that.” There was a painful tightening of her throat.

Sadie clicked her tongue. “Keep your chin up,” she instructed sharply.

With a quick smile, Tamara obediently lifted it an inch. “See you in the morning.”

When the nurse had left, Tamara went to her bedroom to change into a pair of brushed denims and a long-sleeved sweater of cinnamon velour. She had managed to keep her wardrobe fairly up-to-date by paying regular visits to the bargain counters and garage sales. Ingenuity and a skillful needle and thread were usually all she required to hide material flaws or adapt a dress to the latest style. She shook her hair free of its coil to fall with leonine thickness about her shoulders. It changed her image from cool efficiency to one of earthy sensuality, but Tamara was unconscious that the transformation was in any way startling.

While the hamburgers were cooking on the grill, she helped her mother back into the bed and went back to the kitchen to prepare the tray. It was simple fare, consisting of the hamburger patty, mashed potatoes, Jell-O salad, and creamed peas. Tamara set her plate aside to keep the food warmed while she carried the tray in to her mother and sat on the edge of the bed to feed her, since her coordination was such that she could no longer feed herself.