Windswept (20 page)

“Could we? I hate going to weddings by myself.”

She looked so thoroughly pleased with the idea Davis felt like kissing her right there at the dinner table. Then he thought of his cousin and knew he’d do whatever it took to keep Lloyd, his crazy ideas, and his erratic vindictive anger away from her.

***

Tuesday morning, while Brahms’ First Symphony played in the background, Barrett was on the carpet, deep into organizing a box of business papers, invoices, factor reports, and other accounting records. When she noticed a movement out of the corner of her eye, she looked up to see Eva in the doorway--an Eva who seemed distressed. Muting the iPod, she turned to the housekeeper.

“Is anything wrong,
doña Eva
?” she asked as she rose.

“Please come quick,
maestra
,” Eva exclaimed, wringing her hands. “Mr. Davis’s cousin, Lloyd Walker, is demanding to see you. Jesus told me to come get you so he could watch Mr. Walker.”

Eva’s statement didn’t make much sense to Barrett, but she stepped over the circle of files and papers and hurried out to the entrance hall with Eva on her heels. She remembered meeting Lloyd in Louisiana when he came by to see his grandfather. They had only exchanged greetings, but she’d had the feeling he hadn’t liked her much. She also remembered the phone conversation she had overheard between Davis and his cousin. She had a pretty good idea what Lloyd might want and braced herself to do battle.

When she rounded the corner into the front hall and came up to the two men standing like pit bulls eyeing each other warily, tension and dislike seemed to be ricocheting off the walls. “Hello, Mr. Walker. Is there a problem, Mr. Gonzales?” she asked as she looked at Lloyd.

Gonzales started to speak, but Lloyd cut him off. “Yes,
Dr. Browning
, there is a problem.” He emphasized her name nastily, as though he wanted to spit it out of his mouth. “I demand to see the Windswept papers, all of them and right now!”

“I’m sorry, I don’t have the authority to show them to anyone,” Barrett countered. From the tone of his voice alone, she decided he’d see them over her dead body.

Lloyd looked her up and down, an insulting, sneering scrutiny of her cut-off jeans, Northwestern University T-shirt, and bare feet. “I’m Edgar Jamison’s grandson just as much as Davis is. I have as much right to those papers as Davis does, and I want to see them now!” He took a step toward her, but Gonzales moved to stand just in front of her, but slightly to the side. His posture stated clearly that Lloyd would have to go through him before he’d get to Barrett.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Walker,” Barrett repeated, feeling just the opposite. She assumed her professional and slightly stand-offish professor attitude, as if Lloyd were a student asking for special treatment. “I cannot allow anyone access to the Windswept papers without Davis’s express permission. In addition, the documents are not in any state for casual perusal. Are you looking for something in particular?” She thought he blanched at her question, but she continued. “I could tell you if I found it already or I can keep a lookout for it and Davis could let you know when we find it.”

“No! I have to be the one to look. I’m the only one who can find it.” His answer came quickly and too loudly for the circumstances, she thought.

Sweat popped out on his forehead, and he took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his brow. A crafty gleam flashed through his eyes, his voice dropped, and his drawl deepened. “Look here, honey,” he said through a clearly fake smile, “why don’t you and I just sit down here in the living room and talk about this. I’m sure you’ll see my point of view. What harm can I do to these dusty old papers? After all, I’m part of the family.”

He turned to Gonzales and looked down his nose at the shorter man. “You’re dismissed. The professor and I can talk on our own.”

Gonzales didn’t move, except to roll his shoulders like he was anticipating throwing Lloyd out bodily.

“We really don’t have anything to talk about, Mr. Walker,” Barrett said. “I can’t give you access, and if Davis were here, I’d recommend against letting anyone go through the papers before they’re inventoried.” She played what she hoped might be her ace in the hole. “Shall we call him to see what he says?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Lloyd growled. He turned toward the door, but swung around when he reached it, pointing a finger at the two of them. “You tell Davis for me I’m going to see those papers, one way or the other, and I don’t care what I have to do or who I have to climb over to get them!” He threw the door open and stomped out to his car. The tires squealed as he tore out of the driveway.

“Well!” Barrett exclaimed. “What was that all about,
don Jesus
?”

Gonzales relaxed as his eyes followed Lloyd’s progress onto the road. “Mr. Walker and Mr. Davis do not get along.” He shut the door.

“No fooling!” She grinned at Gonzales, and he shrugged with a smile. “I’d better get back to work.” She walked off toward the office, but turned to the older man after a few steps. “I’m glad you were here, don Jesus. I wouldn’t have liked to try to get rid of him by myself.”

Gonzales bowed. “It was my pleasure,
maestra
.”

***

Hoping to talk with Barrett before dinner, Davis came home early. When Gonzales had called him to report Lloyd’s visit, anger at the son of a bitch had flashed through him. When his houseman had told him what Barrett had done, pride in his historian cooled him down. She had handled his cousin beautifully, but Davis wanted to make certain Lloyd had not upset her. She, however, had already taken her swim and was changing in her room when he arrived.

He asked Gonzales to bring him a bourbon and he strolled out to the pool. A light breeze ruffled the water, bringing the scent of the roses to him. The temperature was mild, but it wouldn’t be long before the patio was too hot a place to sit until the sun went down.

He took off his jacket and tie and stretched, feeling his muscles finally begin to relax for the first time since the phone call. When the houseman brought him the drink, he sat at the table and concentrated on his surroundings, particularly a chattering mockingbird, to avoid any thoughts of his unwelcome visitor.

The door behind him opened and Barrett walked onto the patio. “Davis? You’re home early.” She looked from the glass in his hand to his eyes. “That kind of a day, huh?”

“I hear you had a similar one. Can I get you a drink?” It made him feel better just to look at her, all chocolate-brown curls and long legs. He wondered how much longer he could be patient.

“No, I’m fine. I have some good news, too. I’m almost through the eighteen-forties.” She sat down next to him at the table.

“I’m glad you’re making progress.” He took a sip of his drink. “Gonzales called me after Lloyd left. I’m sorry you had to put up with him and his crazy demands.”

“Davis, there’s no need to apologize. It certainly wasn’t your fault. I hope I did the right thing, not letting him have access to the papers.”

Yes, it was his fault, but he wouldn’t belabor the point. “You made the absolutely correct decision. Lloyd and I have had it out several times now about the papers. Edgar left them to me alone, with complete control over their disposition.”

“Lloyd became very agitated when I asked if he wanted to look for something specifically. He must have an idea, but he refused to tell me what it was.”

“He has an unfounded claim from his scatter-brained mother there’s something scandalous in the papers. She maintains this mysterious information will ruin the family name.”

“What, after all this time? Something not already part of local lore? I haven’t come across anything remotely of an infamous nature. And your grandfather never intimated any awful revelation lurked somewhere. What could it be?”

“God only knows. Lloyd claims his mother heard the tale from our grandmother, but nobody’s said anything concrete. Granddaddy always said Lloyd’s mother, her mother, and her mother before her all shared the same trait: They were all inordinately proud of and worried about the family name and convinced the slightest blemish would ruin them in society, among the ‘people who matter.’”

“And I’ll bet your father, his father, and his father before him didn’t give a damn,” she teased.

Davis shot her a glance as he took a swallow of his bourbon. She certainly had them all pegged. “Correct. And I don’t either, not in the context Lloyd does, at least. I care about my family’s honor and honesty, and I’ll do what I can to help and protect them from real threats or hardship, but I’m not going to help them maintain their place in the social register.”

A frown crossed her face and she clasped her hands in front of her on the table. “So our rules about access stay the same.”

“Yes. No one gets access until the inventory is completed, and then only on my say-so. You can still call in experts as needed, but that’s all. If, and this is a very large if, we let Lloyd close to the things, I want to be there, doling out the pages one at a time. I wouldn’t put it past him to try to steal some.”

“He won’t lay a finger on even a scrap, then,” she said with an emphatic nod. He thought she looked relieved.

“Agreed.” He put his drink down and covered her hands with his. When he began to rub his thumbs over her knuckles, she tensed and raised her eyes to his. It would be so easy to drown in the deep blue of hers, he thought, but he remained serious and concentrated on the situation at hand.

“I don’t want to frighten you,” he said, “but I do want you to be careful where Lloyd is concerned. He had a peculiar look about him when he came to my office, and from what Gonzales said, he was almost out of control here. From now on, if I’m not here, neither Gonzales nor Eva will let him into the house. If he comes back again, one of you is to call me immediately.” He gave her fingers a little squeeze for emphasis.

“I was very glad Gonzales was here today,” she said, and her gaze turned apprehensive. “Do you really think Lloyd would try to force his way in? He did make a threat as he left, but I assumed it was bravado and bullying on his part.”

“I don’t want to take any chances,” Davis said. “We used to fight all the time as kids, and he always pitched a fit when he didn’t get his way. He’s seemed more unstable lately, like he’s on a hair trigger. I called his house before I came home, and his wife Grace said she expected him back home this evening. He had gone to New Orleans about a law case, according to her. I didn’t tell her he was actually here.

“If he calls you or tries to contact you in any way, let me know immediately. I don’t trust him at all, and I don’t want you in the middle of the argument between him and me. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” she nodded.

He slipped his hands under hers so he held one in each of his. He gave them a squeeze and smiled when she pressed his in return. He couldn’t help raising one and kissing the back of her fingers. “Agreed.”

She started, but she didn’t pull out of his grasp. Her blue eyes darkened, and she wet her lips. He watched her pink tongue retreat into her mouth and thought about how it would feel to follow it with his. When he raised his eyes again, he could see the questions in hers and he smiled. “I’ll take care of you, Barrett,” he murmured and leaned toward her more.

“Dinner is ready, Mr. Jamison,” Gonzales announced from the doorway.

Davis sighed inwardly and sat back. He and Gonzales were going to have to talk about interruptions. He rose and held the hand he had kissed to help Barrett rise. “Thank you,” he said and led Barrett into the dining room.

***

Two hours later Barrett sat staring at her computer screen. She’d managed to put Lloyd’s visit and the questions it had generated out of her mind--until Davis came home. And took her hands in his. And kissed her fingers. And promised in those deep velvet tones, “I’ll take care of you.”

A shiver ran up and down her backbone and she wriggled, rubbing against the back of the chair until the tremor subsided. Then her hand tingled where he had kissed it, so she rubbed it too.

Now, she had more questions, but not about Lloyd. Davis was going to stand up to his side of their agreement, she had no doubt about it. She hadn’t raised the matter of publication of her findings again, but she didn’t distrust him on the point either.

No, her questions revolved around their, their . . . what? Relationship? Friendship? Arrangement? What did one kiss on the hand, one kiss on the lips--no, two on the lips--and another on the hand, accompanied by mustache tickles add up to? What did eyes that went from hard, cold granite to warm, persuasive, charming, gold-and-green-flecked hazel pools signify?

He was after more than just an inventory.

The attraction between them was not a figment of her imagination. Neither was it one sided.

The man was subtle, she had to admit. At dinner, he hadn’t mentioned Lloyd or any other member of his family. He’s steered the conversation from city politics to sports to her reminiscences of her friend who was getting married. He hadn’t touched her again.

He didn’t need to.

A tension hung in the air--slight, wispy, invisible, but not undetectable. Enjoyable, not offensive. Exciting--oh, yes, exciting. Titillating.

What was she going to do about it? About him?

What had happened to the priorities she had set just the other day? She’d never discussed the situation with him, brought it out in the open, as she had decided she had to. Somehow the opportunity hadn’t arisen.

Or, she’d been chicken.
Bwuck, bwuck, bwuck.
She formed the words with her lips, but didn’t say them aloud.

It was so easy to go along, doing her work, enjoying his company, letting the days slide by, especially when he’d made no overt move forcing a discussion. What he’d done up to now could be explained as his normal attentiveness to a woman, any woman. Except she couldn’t see Davis normally kissing “just any woman” on the lips or the fingertips, or telling “just any woman” he’d take care of her while looking at her with a gaze hot enough to incinerate every last scrap of the Windswept papers.

They needed to talk.