Trouble with the Law (9 page)
Suddenly his own vulnerability overwhelmed him. Too much had passed between them, and Mark pushed his emotions aside with practical thoughts. “Do you want to go back into town?” he asked. “There’s a barn dance.”
“We ought to go,” Justine said, brushing droplets of water from his skin after he turned off the flow. “I don’t want people to think that I’m keeping you away from them.”
“They’ll understand,” he told her. “It’s up to you. Whatever you want.”
“In that case, we’ll stay in. I don’t want to share you with anyone tonight.”
Those simple words filled him with peace. After they had toweled each other dry, Mark led Justine into his bedroom, where a large window overlooked the terrace above the river. He stacked up the pillows so they could lean on them, and settled on the bed, where he pulled her to sit between his legs, her back resting against his chest.
Justine huddled closer to Mark, the heat from his body flowing into hers. She clung to the sense of belonging that had grown as the day went by. Accepted by his friends during the tug-of-war. Sharing his passion in the shower. The only thing missing was the promise of a future. With a wistful sigh, she snuggled more comfortably against him.
“We should talk,” Mark said. “About what happens at the hearing.”
“No.” She didn’t turn to look at him. “Not now. Not today. I don’t want to…think about anything unpleasant. We can talk by phone next week.”
“All right.” He bent to press a kiss on her shoulder. “What do you want to do?”
“This,” she said, and twisted in his arms until their lips met. She needed to give herself fully, without holding anything back, but now it would be tenderness guiding her abandon, unlike before, when anger had propelled her to forget her reserve.
She flicked her tongue into his mouth and drew a shuddering reaction from him. Fully aware of her actions, Justine set out to seduce Sheriff Taylor. Pulling aside the towel around his hips, she rose to straddle him.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “I don’t want to make you sore.”
She didn’t reply, but pressed her fingertips across his lips to silence him. No words were spoken as she rose to her knees and guided him inside her. She began a slow sensuous dance over him. With a harsh sound of passion, he buried his head against her breasts and closed his mouth over a crested peak.
Afterward he held her close, his arms tight around her, his heartbeat a steady drum that lulled her into sleepiness
Justine closed her eyes to hold back tears. Instead of a farewell, she wished tonight could have been the start of something more than a relationship designed to protect his job and her reputation.
“Steven needs to talk to you.” Sandra stood in the doorway of Justine’s office, looking troubled.
“Oh? What is it about?” Justine dropped the estimates for the gala dinner she’d been reviewing.
Sandra had stopped asking questions about Mark, because Justine always evaded them. Now, after last weekend, she would have liked to talk about him, to find out what Sandra knew about him, but she didn’t quite know how to approach the topic without having to tell yet another lie.
“Steven will give you the details,” Sandra said, her voice evasive. “He is in his office.”
“Tell him I’ll be there in a second.”
Sandra nodded and retreated. Justine stacked the papers on her desk and rose. A knot of fear tightened in her gut. She knew she was a hard worker and a reliable employee, but she had no formal training in public relations. She had got her first job because she was engaged to the boss and her second job on the strength of her first job. Chandler Developments was expanding. Perhaps Steven had decided the time had come to employ someone with proper qualifications for the job.
Justine strolled over to his big corner office, trying to relax. Her latest projects had gone well, the press coverage had been favorable, and she had managed to prevent a demonstration at a redevelopment site in
South Philadelphia
by inviting the protestors to participate in a public question and answer panel. Her only failing since her trip to the county fair last weekend had been her lack of concentration as she held her breath for Mark to call.
He hadn’t.
On Sunday morning, he had taken her for a long hike in the woods. They had lunched in the only diner in town, with a constant flow of interruptions from people who wanted to congratulate them over the tug-of-war victory. Most of them had gallantly credited her with making the tiny difference that had defeated the fire department.
Mark’s goodbye when she got in her car had been subdued, void of any mention of the future. He hadn’t even said he’d call her, or that there would be a next time for them to get together. Every implication had been that the task was done, and they could get on with their lives. It seemed such a contradiction to the night at his house, when she had felt that something had taken root and started to grow between them.
Justine sighed as she gave a quick rap on Steven’s door and entered. It must have all been in her imagination. Wishful thinking, something that every unattached woman in search of a man occasionally succumbed to.
“Sandra said you wanted to see me.” Justine came to a halt inside the door.
Steven cleared his throat and pointed to the chair in front of his chrome and glass desk. Behind them, the early afternoon sun gilded the
Philadelphia
skyline. “It really is two different things, but it’s all connected.”
“Yes.” Justine gave him a nod, her voice calm and professional despite the fear that pulsed through her.
“I hope you know that I’ve been pleased with your work.”
“Thank you.” She crossed her legs and adjusted her skirt, recalling the freedom of jeans and sneakers during the tug-of-war and missing it.
“I don’t really want to let you go, but—”
A knock at the door interrupted him, but Justine had heard enough to make her heart sink. Before Steven had a chance to call out a reply, the door inched open and Sandra poked her head through. “I’d like to be part of this, Steven,” she said, looking earnestly at her husband.
He nodded at her, and Sandra crossed the floor to perch on the edge of his desk. She reached out to take Steven’s hand and held it between both of hers. “I’m going to have a baby,” she said, turning to look at Justine.
“Congratulations,” Justine said, ashamed that her fear over her own future dulled her enthusiasm for the good news. “But what does that have to do with you firing me?”
“We are not firing you,” Sandra said.
“Well, not exactly,” Steven added.
“Hush,” Sandra said. “Let me do this.” She contemplated Justine, her expression full of hope. “We’re moving to
“
“I want to be closer to my family when the baby comes,” Sandra said. “But not in
Elkhorn
. Not right on the doorstep.
“I’m not getting out of the business.” Steven reached his arm around Sandra’s waist and pulled her into his lap. “I’m refocusing,” he said from behind her blond ponytail. “It’s getting too hard to find good sites in the city, and I’m fed up with all the politics that go with urban regeneration.” He grinned at Justine. “Do you remember those land parcels for the holiday villages?”
She nodded, her heart leaping up from her stomach and lodging in her throat. “I’m going to bid on all three of them. From now on, I’ll be evicting badgers and squirrels instead of old ladies.”
“What about public relations?” Justine said. “Why are you firing me?”
“I’m not firing you,” Steven said. “I’m just accepting the fact that you’d never move away from the city.”
“Why don’t you go home early and think about it?” Sandra piped up from the circle of Steven’s arms. “You can leave the room now so that I can kiss my husband to thank him to giving me everything I want.” She didn’t wait for Justine to close the door, but bent down t nuzzle Steven’s neck with shameless adoration.
She needed to tell him.
Back in her office, Justine stared at the telephone on her desk, gathering courage, composing a nonchalant way of explaining the situation. When the phone burst into a ring, she almost rocketed out of her seat.
“I just wanted to let you know that we are in the clear,” Mark said after a brief greeting. “Mrs. Harper has withdrawn her complaint.”
“That’s a relief,” Justine blurted out.
“I’d like to come down next weekend,” he said. “There are some things I’d like to talk to you about.”
She didn’t reply, and the silence rose like a barrier between them. “I have something to tell you too,” Justine said at long last.
“Fire away.” Mark’s voice tightened, as though he expected some kind of a betrayal.
“I only just heard ten minutes ago.” Justine took a deep breath. “Steven is moving the office to
“You are moving here?” There was absolutely no emotion in his voice, no anger, no disbelief.
“Yes,” she said. “Does that bother you?”
“And you’ll be able to keep your job, have your own life?”
She frowned into the phone. “Of course I’ll have my own life.”
“You’ll need a four wheel drive.”
“Mark, I just found out ten minutes ago,” Justine said in exasperation at his lack of reaction. “I expect I’ll need a lot of things, starting from somewhere to live.”
“No,” he said bluntly.
“What?” Justine slumped in the seat. She had expected that he might find things awkward, but trying to order her to turn down the move was simply too much. “Since when do you think you have the right to boss me around?”
“Since now,” he told her firmly. “I need to widen the clearing in front of the house to make room for a second car, and the kitchen is a little basic. When you come up next, I’ll get someone to quote for a refit.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked as her heart threatened to leap into her mouth and cut off her air.
“I’m talking about the good news that you are moving up here. I can now withdraw my application to join the Philadelphia Police Department. I would have hated it in the city.” A noise broke out behind him. “Sorry,” he said hastily. “Got to go. Call me when you know what time you’ll come up on Friday night. Everybody I know wants to invite us to dinner.”
The line clicked dead. Justine sat clutching the receiver to her chest. Every muscle in her body went numb while the meaning of Mark’s words slowly penetrated her mind. Then she stirred back to life. She dialed Rob Thornton’s guesthouse in
Her next call was to a florist. “A dozen red roses,” Justine said. “A simple card which says ‘Thank you.’ No other message. The name is Mrs. Harper. H-A-R-P-E-R.”
She dropped the phone in the cradle and sat still in the chair as happiness settled over her, like a burst of spring sunshine that thaws the frozen ground after a long dark winter.
