Forever My Love (18 page)

He groaned and released her shoulders. Then he leaned against the wall, laughing.

“Brent!” Kathy snapped furiously.

“I'm not marrying Marla, all right? And any hot and heavy affair I've had with her is in her mind. She was a friend. I worked with her. She's usually a nice kid. Actually, I thought she was after Johnny. I've been places with her, yes. But she called you and said I was going to marry her?” he said incredulously.

Kathy nodded.

“And you believed her?”

She shrugged. “I was going to ask you about it.”

“Well,” he said softly, “that was good of you. If she calls back, hang up on her.” He paused. “No, don't. She thinks she knows something. Talk to her. See what she says, all right? I've got to go.”

He started to leave, then stopped, came back and kissed her. “Actually, I'm not supposed to owe you an explanation like that. I'm only supposed to behave while I'm actually sleeping with you,” he said huskily.

“Well, it's just that you did so well in destroying my relationship with Axel,” she said sweetly. “I'd hate to see you walk away from this untarnished.”

He laughed. “But we've agreed. Axel isn't wonderful.”

“Mmm. And I suppose we've agreed that you are?”

“Hey, you said so,” he reminded her. He started to kiss her again. Sam was going crazy outside and the bell was ringing away but they ignored both. After a few moments, he finally pulled away regretfully.

“I've got to—”

“Wait!” she said swiftly, holding tight to his arms so he couldn't walk away. “What phone call were you talking about?”

A little shield seemed to fall over his golden orbs. “What?”

“Brent, what phone call—”

“We'll talk later. I've really got to go.”

“No! Not until you tell me!”

He hesitated. “The killer called,” he said with a sigh. “He wanted the numbers I supposedly have. He wants them by tomorrow night.”

“Oh, my God! You can't mean—”

“I think it was a man. The call was very quick. The police weren't able to trace it.”

“Brent—”

“I have to find the numbers, or whatever it is this maniac wants. Not to give to him, but to use to stop him. I have to, Kathy. Can you understand?”

“I understand that I'm scared,” she whispered. “Maybe he gave Johnny a call just like the one he gave you. Brent, you shouldn't be out. You shouldn't go to that benefit.”

“I have to go. You don't.”

“If you're going, I am, too.”

He swore softly.

Outside, it seemed that someone was sitting on the bell. Sam was barking himself into a spasm.

“We'll talk about it later,” Brent said gruffly.

Seconds later, he was gone. Kathy leaned against the wall, then sank slowly against it.

“Mrs. McQueen?”

It wasn't her name. The cops should have known it wasn't her name. It didn't matter. She looked up and saw that Steve had come into the hall. Sam was with him, his tail wagging. Brent had introduced Sam very properly to Steve, and it seemed that the two were the best of friends.

“Hi, Steve.”

“Are you all right?”

“I'm fine, thanks.”

She smiled at him and let him help her to her feet. She said hi to Jerry, then excused herself and sat at the piano.

She began to play the song, humming it softly. She didn't have Brent's voice, and she didn't have his magical touch with musical instruments. But she knew the song. She knew it backward and forward, and she sang it softly.

I will love you forever, forever, my love.

Longer than the heavens ride the sky up above.

Deeper than the depths of the darkest seas,

Stronger than the life that breathes within me,

Forever, into time eternal,

Forever, into light, and into dark,

Forever, my love, forever, my love.

She comes to me like the breeze in the night

A touch, a whisper, in the twilight

And her perfume fills the air,

I breathe her hair,

A brush of velvet, stroke of silk,

I reach, and she is there

Whenever I see her face,

Whenever I feel her smile,

I know that time can never erase

The visions all the while

I touch her skin

The sun rushes in

I sit alone by the dock on the bay

And I know that there will never come a day

When I do not love you forever, my love

Forever, my love, I will love you.

Forever my love, forever my love.

The last notes of the song softly died away. Kathy remained at the piano, silent, still.

It was supposed to have been forever. That had been the promise between them. Why had they let things fall apart?

She was going to grow nostalgic and drip all over the piano keys, she thought. She couldn't do that. Not now. She was supposed to be trying to figure out the secret behind the song. Before tomorrow. But there were no numbers in the song.

She got up and wrote the words on paper and stared at them that way, but no numbers came to her. There weren't even any references to any particular place.

She stared at the words a while longer, then smiled at Jerry when he said he was going for Chinese food. She gave him an order for shrimp with lobster sauce, then suddenly leaped up and raced into her room, to the cavernous closet.

She dragged out all the boxes from the back. She'd saved everything about Brent, everything that had been written. She'd kept a scrapbook, which she'd given Shanna after the divorce, but she still had a copy of every article ever written.

She flipped through newspaper clipping after magazine article after newspaper clipping and finally found what she wanted. It had been the first story about him in a major publication, written after “Forever My Love” had first been released. He'd liked the interviewer and he had given the woman a great deal of insight. Kathy had always loved the article. She scanned it quickly.

There'd been so much analyzing done over the song. Brent hadn't felt that the music was that startling or unusual, nor had he found the words to be anything more than a simple statement from the heart. The interviewer rather hit the nail on the head when she said the lyrics and music just came together in a really beautiful ballad that touched the heart. Brent would probably be known for it forever.

Kathy read on. He talked about writing on the dock near his house, and there was a wonderful picture of a very young Brent with his lazy smile. He said that it had just never come together for him until he'd met Kathryn, his wife. Maybe that was why the song worked. It wasn't just a song. It was everything he felt in his heart and his mind and his soul.

She set the article down. There wasn't a thing about numbers in the article.

She turned the page. There was a picture of her in her wedding gown. It was a traditional snow-white gown sewn in a Renaissance style. She wore a tiara of pearls, and the veil fell behind her in a cloud. If she had ever been beautiful in her life, it had been on that day. The picture caught the blue of her eyes, the soft blond of her hair. She might have been a fairy-tale princess with her knight at her side, except that her knight was incredibly handsome in a black tux, cummerbund and starched white shirt. And his eyes were heated, intoxicating gold as he smiled at her.…

She closed the magazine. It was about to make her cry. And it hadn't told her anything at all.

A few seconds later, Jerry was at her door. “Shrimp with lobster sauce, at your service, Mrs. McQueen.”

“Thanks!”

The day passed slowly. She couldn't remember hours ticking by so slowly. She thought about calling Brent to see how he was doing, but then she remembered that Brent had been called here. It was possible someone might manage to hear what they were saying, that she might lead someone to Brent.

She didn't call. She waited.

She tried to be lighthearted and relaxed and enjoy Steve and Jerry, but it was difficult. And then it was finally night, and she pretended she was exhausted. It seemed that she lay awake forever and ever, and when she finally fell asleep that night, it was as if she was dead. She didn't hear Brent when he came in.

In the morning, she awoke slowly, feeling more tired than she had when she went to bed. She could hear Brent in the living room talking to someone. She froze for a second, wondering if he was on the phone, if the killer had called. But then she heard Robert's voice and she knew their friend was already at the house.

It was Friday. The day of the benefit.

She showered, dressed and went into the living room. Brent was sitting at the piano. Robert was leaning across it, talking intently, his voice low.

They both looked up, startled, when she appeared. “All right, what is it now?” she demanded.

“Nothing. Nothing, really,” Brent told her.

“Nothing,” Robert echoed solemnly.

She rubbed Robert's shoulder. “Didn't anyone ever teach you that it's a sin to tell a lie?”

They exchanged glances. Brent shrugged. “Our mystery man called back. He's going to give me a few days. Maybe someone will trigger something in my mind tonight.”

“A few more days,” Kathy murmured. “That's good of this guy.”

“Well, we've got tonight.”

“Yes, of course. Tonight.”

“And you behave!” Brent warned her.

“Me?” she inquired innocently. “Why, Mr. McQueen, you just flirt your little heart out, anywhere you think it might do you some good. I'm just the ex-ball and chain, remember?”

He grinned at the tone of her voice, raising a fist in mock anger and warning. “There's so much I remember.”

“And you behave. Who knows, I just might be able to flirt in the right direction, too.”

It wouldn't hurt to keep him on his toes. Especially when she wanted to talk so badly. To sit down and say all the things she never managed to say all those years ago. He was still hers, but if they made their way through the clouds, he might just keep walking.

“Breakfast anyone? Or is it lunch? Thank God for the benefit. I'm starting to go mad in this house.”

They agreed on lunch. It was almost a pleasant meal, almost an easy one. They decided to make pasta primavera. Brent and Kathy chopped and cooked and tripped over one another and Robert laughed and they talked over old times.

Robert stayed and stayed, and though Kathy knew that he, being a dear old friend, was guarding them, she really wished he would leave.

He wasn't leaving. He was coming to the benefit with them. He had his tux in the car. He'd be with Brent all night.

She was relieved, she supposed. She wanted Brent to be safe. But she was suddenly afraid. Something could happen, and she might never have the chance she wanted.

Her announcement that she was taking a bath failed to bring Brent into the bedroom. Men never appeared when you wanted them to, she thought mournfully, surrounded by bubbles. They only walked in by surprise, stealing away years of a woman's life, and nearly throttling her when she dared to scream at the intrusion.

She soaked until she was thoroughly pruned, gave up, dressed in sheer white stockings, white bikini panties and garter belt, and waist-hook white bra to accommodate her backless white cocktail gown. The soft, swirling skirt of the dress was studded with rhinestones. She applied her makeup, decided on gold stud earrings and her small gold cross as her only jewelry. She was slipping the dress over her head when Brent at last appeared in the room.

He paused in the doorway, watching her. “Wow,” he said softly.

She smiled. “Want to help me?”

“Put it on or take it off?”

“Put it on. You talked out there way too long to contemplate taking it off. I need the hook done in the back.”

“All right. But only if I get to take it off later.”

She turned her back to him, sweeping her hair up to show him the hook at the nape. He walked behind her and obligingly did the hook, but his fingers lingered upon her shoulders and his lips touched her bare back.

“You bought this ensemble for Axel?” He seemed to growl.

She was glad he couldn't see her slow smile. “He has wonderful taste in clothing.”

He muttered something she didn't quite understand. There was a knock on the door, and Robert asked if they were about ready. Brent swore and replied none too politely that he'd be ready in a damned minute. “Run out and grab my tux, will you, Kath? I'll be right out of the shower.”

“Yes, sir!” she said, saluting. She ran out, smiled sweetly to Robert, who was uneasily pacing the living room, lifted the tux off the couch and came back into the bedroom. She laid the tux out on the bed. Brent appeared a second later, the steam of the shower rising from his flesh. Kathy watched him dress, admiring him, suddenly wishing that they could forget the benefit. She loved the sleekness and the muscles of his long body. She loved the relaxed way he moved. And she loved the way he seemed so easy with her, as if the years had never been.

“Is this straight?” he asked her. He was in a traditional tux with a black vest, bow tie and elegant, old-fashioned shirt with ruffs at the cuff and pleats down the breast. He was fooling with his tie.

She nodded, feeling a lump in her throat. Poised on her high heels by the door, she could suddenly find nothing to say.

He walked toward her, smiling. He paused when they should have been hurrying, and he touched her cheek, then picked up her hand and kissed it. “God, Kathy, you are beautiful. I've tried so many times not to remember just how beautiful.”

“You're pretty beautiful, too,” she said softly.

He groaned. “Oh, no. I knew the ruffs were too much.”

She grinned. “No. Just beautiful. Not because of the ruffs.” Her grin faded, and for a moment, there was no danger. Robert wasn't waiting for them, and there was no place they really had to be. The world had receded except for him. She whispered softly, “Brent, I love you. I love you so much.”