Waking Up (4 page)

Robbie couldn’t say whom she stared at most, the woman for being so outstandingly lovely, or Jason, for having been the one who was escorting her. Her conception of him was, almost unconsciously, taking a gigantic shift in perspective. She shook herself free of the fascination the couple held for her and then glanced over to Ian. The curve of her lips twisted and became wry since he was staring at the couple as much as anyone in the place, his coffee cup halfway to his mouth, the look in his dark eyes frankly stunned. She had seen that look before in other men’s eyes. She knew what it meant.

As she went back to work, she checked her wrist watch and estimated fifteen minutes. It took Ian exactly seven. He left his meal unfinished, which told her that she had badly underestimated his reaction to the unknown woman, and soon he was over at their table, talking smoothly. Jason’s reaction was to sit back slowly and smile, amusement obvious on his lean, tanned features even from where she was. The women at her large table heaved a collective sigh of disappointment, for though many of them were attractive, none could hold a candle to the brunette, and they knew it.

Robbie checked Ian’s table quietly and found his bill gone, along with a generous tip tucked under the rim of his plate, and so she discreetly signaled for someone to come and clear the table.

As for herself, she kept well away from Jason and his date. Jason might not even be aware that she was working tonight, as he hadn’t seen her leave the house. She had no wish to intrude on their evening any more than Ian had already. He was still with them, laughing at something the striking brunette had said, his smile devilish and eye-catching, his eyes brilliant and black.

A little later, as she swept away from one of her newer tables, order pad clutched in her hand as she headed for the back, she happened to glance over to Jason and his woman friend, which she seemed to do rather frequently, and she found Jason’s eyes on her. She smiled quickly at him and waved in all friendliness. His hand lifted briefly in response, but she didn’t go over even then. She had too much work to do.

Though the first part of the evening had gone quite quickly, the latter part seemed to drag on interminably. The customers slowed down and she had fewer tables towards the end, which was the general trend on Sundays. As a consequence, she had a great deal of her clean-up work completed by the time the restaurant doors were locked for the night. She was slipping out earlier than most of the others as the time neared eleven and she was home well before midnight.

She pulled quietly into the driveway at home, and as she waited for the garage door to open, she glanced over to the Morrows’ house. It was dark, with no sign of life at all. With lightning suddenness, the thought came to her that perhaps Jason wasn’t home yet, which led her to wonder where he would be, and if he would be home before the night was out.

With very careful hands, she drew into the garage and switched off her engine, listening as the door hummed down behind her, sitting quietly in the dark shadows without moving. She didn’t know why, but she was oddly shocked. She had never considered the subject before, but to all intents, Jason was a perfectly normal male, and the woman he had been with was particularly ravishing. It would have been quite understandable if he didn’t show at all before morning. Certainly he was a strikingly handsome man in his own right, a fact which she’d only lately begun to appreciate.

A flashing image came to her mind, and once entered, she couldn’t dispel it. Jason, bending his light brown, well-shaped head slowly down to waiting, lush lips, which fastened eagerly, hotly on to his. The crimson and ivory body melting against his hard, masculine body. The woman’s raven hair falling over his dark, encircling arm. His broad shoulders bowed over her, her slim arms languidly entwining his bent neck, her hands stroking his sleek hair. His hands caressing her body, taking off the crimson dress, marking the delicate skin.

Robbie’s face flushed abruptly in a hot tide of red blood, and her hands clenched spasmodically, bone white on the steering wheel in front of her. A muscle ticked in the sleek line of her jaw, and she felt as though she had been burned by the images that came, unbidden, to her inner eye. It was because she was intensely embarrassed. She would have felt the same if she had conjured up such thoughts about her father and his attractive widow. She would have felt the same had she a brother and considered his sexuality.

She rocketed out of her car and rushed through the garage and house to prepare feverishly for bed. What an awful thing to think about. Jason’s sexual encounters were his affair, and none of her business. But then came the question, blurting uncontrollably into her mind, and she began to wonder just how many women Jason might already have known.

In bed, she buried her head deep under her pillows, though it was dark and there was no one to see her anyway. Her long legs twisted in the cool bed sheets. A night breeze wafted through the open window, lazily stirring her curtains. She twisted on to her back and stared sightlessly up at the dark ceiling, unable to halt her teeming, weltering confusion of thoughts.

She had never experimented sexually, though she knew many girls and women who had. Affairs at work were multitudinous and commonplace. Some of the waitresses fell into bed with any man who had money and looks, especially money. Robbie was no naive little girl; she knew and understood quite well the sometimes torturous paths romantic involvements could take. But along with her femininity, sexual interest had come late into her life, and she had never been in the position when the time or the mood had seemed right. A few of her boyfriends had pressured her, and even Ian had shown a willingness to take their relationship a bit further than she would have liked, but she could never muster enough enthusiasm or foolishness for that first, awesome plunge. She had been physically stirred, sure, but not rocked to her foundations, pleasantly aroused but not shattered by the strength of her own passion. The scenes her imagination had now brought to life were raw, powerful, surging, and she curled her body tight in confused reaction.

She didn’t know. Perhaps she was indeed a naive little fool. Her mind and body certainly burned with mortification. Her breath came short and shallow, and her muscles were tense. Surely, it was mortification.

She tossed and turned for the entire night, and as a consequence, she rose heavy eyed and irritable the next morning at eight. She was tired at the beginning of the day and she had to work until late that evening. It did not seem to be the best of starts to her week. Her room was quite cool, almost uncomfortably so, and a quick look outside informed her that the day was overcast and windy. She slammed her window shut, resisting with all her might the urge to race downstairs and see if Jason’s car was in the Morrows’ driveway. He would be leaving soon for work, as would her father.

With her dressing gown thrown carelessly over her slim shoulders, still wearing her thigh-length nightshirt and with bare legs flashing, she went down the stairs to find her father. Herb was sipping coffee at the dining table, ready for work in his sober business suit and tie, graying hair neat and glistening from his morning, shower. He looked quite surprised to see her so early.

“And a good morning to you, I think,” he said in reply to her mumbled greeting. She could feel him watching as she made her way to the counter and carelessly sloshed hot coffee into a large, hand-painted mug. She went to the table and plopped down into a chair to stare into space moodily. “Rather early for you to be up, isn’t it?”

“I couldn’t get to sleep last night,” she said and yawned into her hand. “I think I must have gone to bed too early.”

“Hadn’t expected to see you today since you work tonight,” grunted her father. She had to leave before he got home, so at times they didn’t see each other for days. They had a habit of leaving notes for each other, and slips of white paper were periodically scattered throughout the house.

A quick hard knock sounded at the nearby sliding glass doors, and Robbie jumped where she sat, while Herb rose to answer it. She bowed her tousled head and leaned her chin into one hand as behind her Jason’s voice answered cheerfully. “I came by to borrow a cup of milk for my coffee, if you’ve got it. I ran out yesterday and forgot to pick up more before everything closed.”

“We don’t want it back when you’re done with it,” said Robbie sourly as she lifted her head; to which her father laughed.

There was a sliding swish as Herb pushed the doors open wider. “Come on in, Jason. You’re welcome to have coffee here, unless you’ve already made some for yourself?”

“No, as a matter of fact, I haven’t. Thank you,” Jason replied. “Sit back down, Herb, I’ll get it. Good grief, man, don’t stand on ceremony with me! Why, good morning, Rob. You look like the devil.”

She turned her head, to eye his crisp figure evilly. “You’d better be careful, or I might tell you where to go,” she threatened, bringing an unrepentant grin to his face while her father admonished her mildly.

Jason was also ready for work, dressed in a light blue summer suit, his brown hair dampened by his shower, looking even darker, his light gray eyes startling. He brought his cup over to the table and sat, talking desultorily with Herb for a few minutes while she remained silent, until her father finally rose to leave.

“I’d better get going before I’m late for the office,” he grunted. “I have a longer drive ahead of me than you.” He bent to press a quick kiss to Robbie’s upturned cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow, honey. Have a good day.”

“’Bye, Dad,” she said and watched from under heavy lids as he walked out of the kitchen. Silence settled like old dust over them as they listened to her father’s departure. After a moment, the adjoining door to the garage opened and closed, and they heard the far-off sounds of Herb starting his car and the garage door whining up.

Robbie bent her head and pressed her fingers to her temples, squeezing her eyes closed tightly in an effort to shake herself alert. She avoided looking in Jason’s direction as he sat just to her right, around the corner of the table. The images of last night came to mind, and she shifted uneasily in her seat.

The silence continued until she began to realize how heavy and unusual it was. Jason wasn’t even stirring in his chair or drinking his coffee. She opened her eyes and turned her head to look at him, finding that he was regarding her sharply, intently, with a frown lowering his brows. Under the curious weight of his own light-colored gaze, her own brown eyes widened, puzzled.

“You okay, Rob?” Jason asked finally, his voice very quiet in the empty house, even diffident.

Surprise showed in her expression. She cupped her coffee mug between her hands and hunched her shoulders, shifting to look down at the glossy finish of the table surface. “Sure, why?” she muttered and, to her frustration, felt a betraying wave of heat course up her neck. She could only hope that with her dark tan, it wasn’t particularly visible.

“You look so tired,” he said, leaning forward. Unconsciously, she shrank back slightly. His eyes were everywhere, on her silken, tousled hair, on her down-bent eyes, on the circles beneath them, on her slim, restless hands. Without looking up again, she thought of how fresh and alert he looked, but then he had always been thus even after just a few hours of rest. Then she winced, involuntarily, at where that led her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” she exclaimed and thrust out of her chair to stride for the coffeepot. “Do you want any more coffee?” she threw over her shoulder.

His reply seemed slow in coming. “No, thanks.” She poured hers quickly, experience making her judge accurately to a drop, and then she returned to her seat. Jason was leaning back now, his face turned to her, his vivid eyes running over every plane and curve of her expression. As she took her seat again, wondering when he would be leaving, he said, voice sudden in the stillness, “I’m…very sorry about last night.”

Her dark eyes flashed to his face. “What the hell does that mean?” she asked, with a blink.

His own eyes were relentless. She wondered briefly what he saw with those eyes. “I didn’t know that Walsh would be there to see you, otherwise I would have taken Linda somewhere else.”

“What?” She was astounded. “How would you have known, and why on earth would you have gone somewhere else?”

His head turned away sharply, and he closed his eyes to rub them with thumb and forefinger. “I’m not saying this well at all. Look, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry that last night happened, that Walsh was so damned obvious. I would have expected better from him.”

Robbie narrowed her eyes, cat-like. “Just what do you mean by that? You think I’m jealous over Ian or something?”

His eyes snapped back to her face, quick, flashing. “Aren’t you?” he queried softly.

“No!” she said, perhaps too violently. “Of course not. That’s just how Ian is. I would have been surprised if he hadn’t gone over to your table; that woman was so lovely.”

Jason’s surprise was swift in running over his features. “But doesn’t that bother you?” She looked and felt strange, as she thought that one over in silence. Then she opened her mouth, only to close it again without replying, for perhaps she should be bothered, but she wasn’t, she wasn’t at all. What she was bothered about was so ridiculous, and so obviously none of her business, that she was at a loss as to how to respond to his question.

Jason’s rather stern expression gentled, and he reached out with his hand to cover her forearm. His touch was electric to her, and she jumped at the sensation, wondering involuntarily what and where he had touched with those square, well-tended hands. “Rob, stop seeing him,” he urged softly. She stared at him, even more astonished, her large eyes quite blank. Jason searched them, and then he took a quick breath. “Can’t you see that he’s no good for you? You’ll only hurt yourself needlessly if you see him anymore. He’s unreliable, as slippery and as treacherous as a snake.”