Belinda (3 page)

“This sure is a fancy car.” She ran her hands
along the edges of the window. “I bet it cost an arm and a
leg.”

Reeve was momentarily taken aback, then he
laughed. “It certainly did. And a couple of feet, as well.”

“My, my.” She ran her hands over his car
again, all the while leaning so close he was only inches from her
seductive little mouth and her dark eyes. His heart kicked hard
against his ribs and he was acutely aware of her as a woman. He
felt guilty, as if he had betrayed Sunny.

The silence stretched out between them, and
Belinda kept smoothing her hands over his car. The movement was
decidedly sensual. Reeve cleared his throat and eased back in his
seat to put a little distance between them. My lord, this girl
couldn’t be more than twenty-two or three. She hardly even
qualified as a woman.

“I came to offer you a ride to your
motel.”

Belinda cocked her head to one side, studying
him, holding the moment and offering it up to him like a long-
stemmed rose. She seemed to be weighing her options. Suddenly she
grinned.

“All right. I’m tired of walking,
anyhow.”

Reeve got out of his car and loaded her
suitcase into the back seat. Belinda slid into the front seat,
bouncing up and down a little to test the springs.

“This is just grand,” she announced as he
slid behind the wheel.

“Thank you.” He turned the key in the
ignition. “Do you have a reservation?”

“No.” Her bow-shaped lips formed a sexy O
when she spoke. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“I can recommend a few good motels.”

“Are they cheap?” Belinda fingered the catch
on her purse as if that small movement would multiply her
funds.

Reeve’s rescue mission was getting more
complicated by the moment. Naturally a woman who had walked from
the bus station would be counting pennies. He didn’t know how much
money she could afford for a motel, and he guessed that if he
offered to pay, her pride would be deeply wounded.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said. “My house is
very large and you are welcome to stay for the night.”

She didn’t seem as surprised by the offer as
he was that he had made it. He supposed that was what happened when
you started compromising. First he had caved in to the will of his
children and become involved in the affairs of a perfect stranger,
and now he was letting that stranger work some kind of spell over
him so that he was actually concerned about wounding her pride. The
Reeve Lawrence sitting behind the wheel of his Corvette was not the
man he knew. Perhaps when he got back home he’d be himself once
more.

“Is this offer legit?” Belinda asked.

“Yes.”

“I don’t want you to think I can’t take care
of myself.”

“I don’t.”

“Or that I go around taking up with strange
men.”

“Never.”

“Or that I don’t have any money,” she
added.

“Not at all.” He lied, letting her save
face.

“What about your wife? Are you sure she won’t
mind if I spend the night?”

“My wife is... deceased.” Suddenly he had a
vision of Sunny sitting beside him, her hair glowing in the
dashboard lights. His hands tightened on the wheel.

“Deceased?”

Oh, God. She didn’t know what the word
meant.

“Dead,” Reeve said, his voice tight.

“I’m so sorry.” Belinda reached over and
squeezed his arm. When he didn’t respond, she let go. “It’s a
deal,” she whispered. “I’ll stay at your house.”

They drove in silence. His house stood out
dramatically on the hillside, ablaze with lights. He parked the car
in the garage, then got Belinda’s suitcase. She fell into step
beside him, swiveling her head to view his house from all angles.
The children catapulted through the front door and met them in the
front yard.

“Daddy, you brought her home!” Mark yelled,
obviously pleased.

“Goody, goody!” Betsy squealed.

Belinda stood in front of the house, her eyes
big with wonder. “Gosh almighty. It’s just like a castle out of a
fairy tale.”

He looked at his house with a new awareness.
It had steep gables and an oversized fanlight. Sunny had added a
broad veranda, running the length of the front, so the house
wouldn’t be so imposing and formidable, she’d said.

“Do you like fairy tales?” Betsy asked,
tugging on Belinda’s hand.

“They’re my favorite kind of tale.” Belinda
linked her other hand with Mark’s, and the three of them went up
the steps together, moving ahead of Reeve.

“Will you read us one?” Mark turned toward
Reeve. “Daddy, can she read us a story?”

“That’s up to her. She’s traveled all day,
son, and she might be tired from her journey.”

“Oh, I don’t ever get tired.” Belinda swung
around to look at him. “Life’s too interesting. If I got tired I’d
miss half of it.” She smiled at him, then stood on his veranda,
surveying her surroundings. “I sure do like this porch,” she said
after a while, her voice soft and dreamy. “It would be just peachy
with two or three big pots of geraniums scattered around.”

Reeve imagined his porch abloom with red
geraniums. Sunny had loved flowers. When she had gone, it seemed
she’d taken all the flowers out of his life, all the color.

He gazed around his veranda. Maybe he’d get
some flowers.

“Do you like red?” he asked Belinda.

“It’s just about my favorite color in the
whole world.”

She and the children hurried ahead through
his front door, chattering like old friends. He followed along,
thinking how it would feel to come home in the evening and be
welcomed by red geraniums.

Reeve set the cardboard suitcase down inside
the door and reached for the intercom to call Quincy. Then he
changed his mind. Suddenly it became important to him to show
Belinda Diamond to her room himself. He wanted to see her first
reaction.

“Betsy, Mark, please go find Quincy and tell
her there will be a guest for dinner.” The children raced along the
marble floors, laughing and chattering. When they had disappeared
he turned to his guest. “I’ll show you to your room.”

He led her up the curving staircase, guiding
her with a hand on her elbow, watching her openly as she grew
big-eyed over the chandelier and the carved mahogany railing and
even the plush carpet under their feet. He was as pleased as if
he’d invented all those lush trappings.

At the top of the stairs, he turned toward
the guest wing, then changed his mind and headed toward his own
bedroom wing. There was no need to put Belinda all the way on the
other side of the house. What if she need to ask him something and
got lost trying to find him? It was much more practical to have her
close by. And besides, he wanted to be able to keep an eye on her.
She certainly seemed innocent and harmless, and the children liked
her. That was always a good sign—children and dogs had great
instincts about people.

He trusted his own instincts, too, but there
was always a slight chance that he was wrong. It was best all
around to put Belinda Diamond in the bedroom next to his.

“Here it is,” he said, opening the door to a
room done in shades of cream and pale blue. “Your room for the
night. It has its own bathroom.”

“All of this—just for me?” Belinda swung
around to look at him. “You’re kidding me. Right?”

“No. This is your room.”

She walked around, touching the
velvet-covered love seat, running her hands down the silk curtains
hanging from the bedposts, picking up the gold hairbrush on the
vanity. With the hairbrush in her hand, she suddenly tensed, her
eyes as alert as a startled doe’s.

“Where’s your room?”

“Right next door.”

“And where will the children be?”

“Downstairs. My housekeeper, Quincy, has
quarters next to theirs.”

She laid the brush down carefully, then
folded her hands together and faced him.

“I don’t swap my body for favors.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I don’t know what you think of me or what
you expect of me, but I’m not the kind of woman who sells herself
for one night in a fancy bedroom.”

“I see,” Reeve said. She was very serious,
and he had a hard time keeping a straight face. He was both amused
and touched.

“Just so we get this clear,” she went on, “I
don’t take charity and I don’t sleep around—you know, have sex and
stuff like that.”

He rubbed his hand across his mouth to cover
his smile.

“I don’t want any of your favors, Belinda,
lovely as they might be.”

“You don’t?”

“No.” He opened the closet door and set her
cardboard suitcase inside. Then he crossed the room and took her
gently by the shoulders.

“What are friends for if they can’t offer you
a night’s lodging?”

“Okay. I just wanted to make that clear.
That’s all.”

“It’s perfectly clear.” He released her and
stepped back. “Dinner will be served at eight. You might want to
freshen up before then. I’ll knock on your door when it’s time and
escort you to the dining room.”

She didn’t answer immediately, but went to
the bed and ran her hands over the creamy coverlet. Her shiny hair
slid over her cheek so he couldn’t see her face. But even so, he
knew just how it would look—as bright and glowing as a child’s on
Christmas morning.

With one hand, she held her hair back from
her face and smiled at him. “I feel just like a princess in a fairy
tale.”

He didn’t know what to say. All he was
offering her was a night’s lodging. Surely that meager gift didn’t
make her feel like a princess. Was she expecting more? Was her
innocence all an act?

What had he done? He pulled caution around
him like a cloak. “I’ll see you at eight,” he said, already
striding toward the door.

She sat on the edge of the bed and looked at
the closed door. That Reeve Lawrence was the oddest man she’d ever
met. Sometimes he acted all friendly, just like the customers who
came to Pets and Paws on a Saturday morning, and other times he was
as stiff as an old turkey, waiting for the ax at Thanksgiving.
Land, he was a complicated man.

She ran her hands over the coverlet and
sighed.

“Oh, Lord, a woman could get used to this.”
She kicked off her one shoe and curled her toes into the plush
carpet. Then she kicked off the other shoe and danced around the
room.

Suddenly she stopped in front of the
full-length mirror. Her pink dress with the flowers on one shoulder
didn’t look all that special beside her luxurious surroundings. She
was in a different world, and she knew it. Her hands clenched into
fists at her sides.

“Belinda Stubaker, don’t you dare go making a
fool of yourself over Reeve Lawrence. Besides,” she added, tipping
up her chin, “you don’t need another man to straighten out.”

From: Catherine

To: Belinda, Molly, Bea, Janet, Clemmie,
Joanna

Re: What’s Going On?

Belinda, sweetie? Where are you?

Xoxo

Catherine

From: Belinda

To: Catherine, Janet, Bea, Clemmie, Molly,
Joanna

Re: A Fairytale

You’re not going to believe this! I’m staying
in a mansion in Tupelo with a nice man named Reeve Lawrence. I met
him this afternoon when I stopped to buy something to wet my
whistle at his little kids’ lemonade stand. He has a dead wife, and
the saddest, saddest look I’ve ever seen. I wish you could see this
bed! It’s like something out of a fairy tale.

Xoxox

Belinda

From: Janet

To: Belinda, Catherine, Bea, Clemmie, Molly,
Joanna

Re: Fairytale, my ass

You’re staying with a man you don’t know? In
his
bedroom
!!! Get out of there now! I’ll skip classes
tomorrow, drive up to Tupelo and bring you back to Jackson with me.
My apartment’s cramped, but there’s room for you.

Janet

From:Bea

To: Janet, Belinda, Catherine, Molly, Joanna,
Clemmie

Re: No Three Fire Alarm

Good lord, Janet. Just chill. Belinda’s got
better sense than to shack up with a stranger. Right, Belinda?

Bea

From: Clemmie

To: Belinda, Janet, Catherine, Molly, Joanna,
Bea

Re: Oh Dear

I
do wish
you’d come to Peppertown.
Where in Tupelo? I can be there in twenty minutes.

Clemmie

From: Joanna

To: Belinda, Bea, Molly, Janet, Clemmie,
Catherine

Re: Tell All

Oh, this is too
delicious!
Send
details!!!

Joanna

From: Molly

To: Belinda, Bea, Joanna, Janet, Clemmie,
Catherine

Re: Daddy will know

I’m calling Daddy. He knows everybody in
Tupelo. He’ll find out if this Reeve Lawrence is an ax murderer. I
hope not! He sounds
romantic!

Molly

Belinda turned off her computer. She might
not know much but one thing was sure: Reeve Lawrence was no ax
murderer. The only thing she had to worry about was getting clean
for dinner.

She went into the fancy bathroom and she
picked a bottle of bath oil. “Attar of Roses,” the label read. She
didn’t know what “attar” was, but she knew about roses. She
uncapped the bottle and held it to her nose. It smelled
heavenly.

She closed her eyes, imagining herself
floating in the big sunken tub, surrounded by rose-smelling
bubbles. She couldn’t think of anything more romantic. Wait till
she told Joanna and Molly!

Sighing softly, she recapped the bottle and
set it carefully back on the shelf. Someday she was going to buy
herself some bath oil. She’d start with “Attar of Roses” and work
her way through the flower garden—honeysuckle, violet, gardenia,
daffodil and hyacinth. She might even get some that smelled like
spring. She’d have a different fragrance for every day of the
week.

Barefoot, she padded back to her suitcase and
took out a washcloth and a towel. They weren’t plush like the ones
hanging in that fancy bathroom, but they were hers. She rummaged
around some more, looking for her soap. It was nowhere to be
found.