Sentimental Journey (11 page)

"When I was here the other night, I copied it off the telephone in the living room." He flashed her a mocking smile.

She should have been angry that he had taken such liberties, but she wasn't. It was impossible to feel anything but the power of the attraction he held for her. There was a growing sense of alarm that she was giving in to him too easily, but even that had difficulty making itself heard.

His gaze focused on her mouth. "I think the coffee is the only thing around here that's getting cold." Unceremoniously, he kissed her before lifting her to her feet. "I'd better drink it and be on my way."

Jessica pushed a handful of hair away from her face and reached for her own cup. The coffee was lukewarm against her lips. She remained standing while Brodie drained his mug. Rising from the chair, he touched her cheek briefly.

"I'll call you."

"Yes." Jessica didn't walk him to the door. Brodie found his own way out of the apartment.

Chapter Seven

BY SUNDAY NIGHT Jessica had almost convinced herself that she had succumbed to some temporary kind of madness. She had been kissed passionately before, had believed herself in love before, but her complete abandonment of control with Brodie had bordered on insanity.

Curled on the sofa, with her feet tucked beneath her, she closed the book she was holding. She hadn't read a single word in the past hour, and it was useless to pretend she would. It was equally useless to sit in the apartment. Maybe she should call her cousin Barbara Dane, her uncle's daughter, to see if she'd like go to a movie.

As she reached for the telephone sitting on the end table by the sofa, it rang. Her hand jerked back in surprise, then she picked up the receiver, wondering if Barbara had had the same idea.

"Hello?"

"I have a long-distance telephone call for Miss Jessica Thorne," the nasal voice of an operator responded.

"This is Miss Thorne." Her mind was racing. Her parents never called person-to-person this way. The only other person it could be was…

"Hello, Green Eyes.
"

It was Brodie. Her heart did a somersault. "I thought you said you
were going to call one day next week," she accused, but she couldn't stop the chills of delight from tingling through her.

"I said I'd make it back in town one day next week, but I didn't say I wouldn't call you in between," Brodie corrected. "What's the matter? Did I catch you at a bad time? Are you entertaining some amorous young man?"

"It so happens I'm alone." Her answer was snappish, a defensive mechanism as she wondered if Brodie thought she made a habit of behaving with all her dates as she had with him.

"All alone on a Sunday night?" He seemed to mock her solitude.

"I have to work in the morning," she reminded him.

"I forgot how conscientious you are. That's why you're having a quiet evening alone, isn't it?"

"Exactly why did you call?" Jessica demanded. "If it was just to make fun of me—"

"It's much more simple than that," Brodie interrupted. "I wanted to hear your voice?'

Did he mean that? Jessica gasped back a sob as she realized that she desperately wanted him to mean it. He must have heard the strangled sound.

"Jessica?" His voice was crisp and inquiring.

"Yes?" Her tone was more subdued than it had been.

"I…" There was, a pause and she could hear some background noises. "There's someone at the door. I'll have to let you go."

"All right. Goodbye, Brodie."

"Jessica…I'll call you." He sounded impatient, tired. Then there was only the hum of the dial tone as the connection was broken.

Slowly Jessica replaced the receiver on its cradle and hugged her arms around her stomach. She wished she understood him. She wished she knew whether she could trust him.

MONDAY, TUESDAY, WEDNESDAY went by while she waited for the promised phone call from Brodie. It didn't come. Jessica wondered whether her sharpness on Sunday had made him change his mind about seeing her again.

"One day next week," he had said. There weren't many days of the week left. Jessica stared resentfully at the office phone, its presence interrupting her concentration with a reminder of Brodie. It was probably a case of "out of sight, out of mind," and she should be glad of it.

The interoffice line buzzed. Jessica punched the button to the receptionist's desk and picked up the telephone. "Yes, Ann." She acknowledged the call. "What is it?"

"There's a Mr. Hayes on line one. Isn't he—"

But Jessica was already disconnecting the interoffice line to take Brodie's call. "Hello, Brodie." She hoped she didn't sound as eager as she felt.

"Hello, Jessica. I'm between meetings so I only have a couple of minutes." He sounded very brisk and coolly businesslike. "We can have dinner this evening."

"Tonight?" Jessica was all too irritatingly aware of the fact that he hadn't asked whether she had other plans.

"I'll come by your apartment at seven-thirty."

"I—"

"Sorry, Green Eyes, I have to run. See you tonight."

The line went dead. Jessica held the receiver away from her ear, glaring at it, impotent with the fury of being taken for granted. Her fingers were white from gripping the receiver.

"Jess?" The door to her office opened and her uncle, Ralph Dane, stuck his head inside. "Ann tells me that's Brodie Hayes on the phone. Tell him I'd like to talk to him for a few minutes."

"He's already hung up," she told him stiffly, and proceeded to do the same herself.

"Already?" A dark brow lifted in surprise. "That was a short conversation. Why did he call?"

"To tell me that I was having dinner with him tonight." Jessica bristled, unconsciously emphasizing the fact that she had been "told" and not asked.

Ralph Dane had been married many years and raised three daughters. He recognized the indignant look on Jessica's face and its cause. There was an attempt to hide a smile.

"Forgot to ask, did he?" His tone was sympathetic, but Jessica suspected that his sympathies were with Brodie.

"I'm beginning to suspect that Brodie Hayes never asks. He takes, commands, or presumes," she snapped.

"Don't be too hard on him, Jessie," her uncle attempted to mollify her. "At least you're assured that he wants to be with you and not someone else."

"Am I supposed to be grateful?" But she wasn't as sharp in her criticism as she had been a minute ago. There was consolation in knowing that Brodie wanted to be with her. "He could have pretended to observe the niceties of asking."

"You have to understand," Ralph Dane cautioned, "a man as successful as Hayes travels in a cutthroat circle. You have to be harder, tougher and stronger than the next man or he's going to step on you. There isn't much time for observing the niceties."

"Perhaps not," Jessica conceded, and remembered, also, that his upbringing had not permitted him to be as coached in good manners as she was.

"Tell him when you see him tonight that I'd like to talk to him about a couple of proposals Janson has made. I think he should know about them before I go ahead." The moment of family conversation had passed and her uncle was once again all business.

"I'll tell him," she promised.

By quarter past seven, she managed to rationalize away most of her irritation at Brodie's presumptuous behavior. Just enough of it lingered to put a combative sparkle in her eyes. She would have dinner with him, but she wasn't going to fall in his arms when he walked through the door.

The bell rang.
Her pulse thundered erratically before she could bring it under control. Then taking a deep, calming breath, she smoothed her palm over the white silk of her dress and walked to the door.

"You're early," she said as she opened the door to Brodie. "You said you'd be here at seven-thirty and it's only a quarter after."

The glitter in his eye welcomed her into his arms, but Jessica turned away, refusing the invitation she read in his look. She swept into the living room, leaving him to close the door.

"Is it a crime to be early?" he challenged.

"I'm not ready yet." Which was a lie. She had been ready twenty minutes ago.

"Jessica?" His voice commanded and she obeyed by turning to face him. He made a thorough, disturbing study of her. "You look perfect to me."

All her senses were reacting to him, dangerously resplendent in his dark evening suit. "Thank you," she stiffly acknowledged his heady compliment, "but my lipstick—"

"Needs blotting." He caught her hand and pulled her into his arms.

She tried to keep her lips rigid under the slow exploration of his mouth, but a fiery glow of pleasure soon had them softening as her body relaxed in his hold. When Brodie lifted his head, he viewed her through the thick screen of his lashes.

"That's better," he declared.

Her gaze slid to his mouth and the beige pink smear of color. "You have lipstick on you now," she informed him, and moved out of his arms, clinging to the poise his kiss had all but shattered.

Brodie reached into his pocket for a handkerchief and proceeded to wipe away the telltale smear. "What's the matter, Jessica?"

"Nothing," she said.

"Yes, there is. Your nose is out of joint about something," he insisted.

Jessica was certain that nothing could remain hidden from those piercing blue eyes for long. "What if I told you I'd made other plans for tonight?" she challenged.

His gaze narrowed on her face, his look suddenly cutting and ruthlessly cold. "Have you?"

"It's a fine time to ask now, isn't it?" She laughed in brittle mockery.

Brodie caught her by the shoulders. Her dress was sleeveless and the minute his hands touched her, they began to lightly rub her soft flesh. "If you'd told me—" he began with an attempt at patience.

"If you'd asked me," Jessica retorted, "I would have."

He expelled an angry breath. "How much time do we have before he shows up?"

Her eyes widened in hurt astonishment. He actually believed she was going out with someone else and he wasn't even jealous. Jessica didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"All evening," she answered bitterly. "As it happens, I didn't have any plans for tonight, but you could have had the courtesy to ask." She glared at the knot of his tie. "I don't like being taken for granted, and I won't be at your beck and call!"

He forced her chin up, amusement glittering in his blue eyes. "I don't take you for granted, Green Eyes. At least, not consciously," he qualified his statement.

"I…I hope you don't." Jessica found it hard to stay angry.

Brodie reached inside his jacket. "Here, I bought you this." When his hand came out, it was holding a small narrow case. Jessica took it from him hesitantly, then lifted the lid. On a bed of black velvet was a delicate, spun-gold chain with a single, sparkling blue diamond.

"It's beautiful," she murmured, and felt her stomach twist into a sickening knot. She closed the lid and handed it back to him. "I can't accept it."

"Why not?" A dark eyebrow swept up in an arrogant, impatient line. "I bought it for you."

"It's much too expensive," said Jessica, fighting the waves of nausea. "I can't accept it."

"You're used to expensive things. Should I have bought you some cheap piece of costume jewelry and risked offending you?" Brodie demanded.

She lifted her head, her chin quivering with an abundance of pride. "At least I wouldn't feel as if you're trying to buy me."

"Buy you!" Brodie flared, and controlled his temper with effort. "I was not attempting to buy you."

"Do you make a habit of buying diamond necklaces for whatever girl you happen to be dating?" Jessica retorted.

"No, I don't make a habit of it," he denied with a savage bite. "I buy gifts only for people who are special to me. The motive is simple: I want to give them pleasure. That's all I get out of it, and that's all I expect to get out of it."

Perhaps he hadn't been trying to buy her affection. Jessica began to doubt the conclusion she had reached. She searched the tempered steel of his eyes.

"Then you shouldn't buy such expensive gifts and people wouldn't misinterpret your reasons," she backed down from her accusation.

"The cost is relative. I can afford this necklace." He lifted the case in his hand. "When I was fifteen, spending five dollars on a girl was a lot of money to me. Now I can afford to spend a great deal more." He studied her for a long second. "l want you to have this necklace, Jessica. Will you accept it?" She hesitated. "What good is money," he argued, "if you can't spend it on people you care about?"

His logic was irrefutable. Reluctantly she held out her hand for the case. "It was very thoughtful of you, Brodie." She recited her acceptance of it as if she was a child being prompted to say the right things. "It's beautiful. Thank you."

"Jessica," he sighed her name.

She lifted her gaze. Her green eyes were colored brightly with pride. A muscle flexed in his jaw where tanned skin was stretched taut. His hands closed over her shoulders, their hold firm but not gentle.