Wild and Wanton (18 page)

Lindsay wondered if Cathy's revived interest in appearance had anything to do with the attention Jim Bourne had paid her. She herself could use the company; a shopping spree was infinitely better than a day spent moping by herself.

And so, cheered by Cathy's brightness, she said, ‘I'd love to come.'

Cathy's newfound energy left Lindsay gasping all day. When they had finished, Lindsay felt as though she didn't want to look at another dress or blouse or skirt or pair of shoes ever again. Hours later, exhausted, they put down their parcels and rested their weary bodies in their favourite seafood restaurant. Lindsay hadn't been totally successful in unburdening herself of her thoughts; her mind had kept returning to Nick Farraday and the revelations about Phil, and she only toyed with the mouthwatering platter set before her.

‘Poor old you,' Cathy sympathized. ‘You really are out of sorts. It was cruel of me to drag you out today.'

‘It wasn't,' Lindsay said, making a valiant effort to eat a prawn. ‘And it's a joy to see you taking an interest in yourself again and looking so much better. Yesterday's party did you good.'

‘I agree. I'm glad you invited me, and thanks for persevering with me all this time. I'd forgotten what it was like to have fun.'

‘It was good to see you enjoying yourself. You and Jim Bourne seemed to get on well.'

‘Yes, we did. But don't go making too much of it.'

‘Oh? I thought that was the reason for your resumed interest in life.'

‘In a way it is. I felt comfortable with him,
and
that in itself seemed like a miracle.'

‘I don't know what's so miraculous about it. Jim Bourne is one of the easiest people I know to get along with.'

‘He might be, but he's a man. And I haven't been easy with men since . . . since Stephanie's birth.' A debate seemed to be going on behind Cathy's eyes; then her chin tilted at an angle of defiance. ‘I went off that side of marriage. You might not take kindly to hearing this, but here goes. Your brother was a fine man in many ways, but patience wasn't his strong point.'

Lindsay didn't know how to answer that. Cathy hadn't had an easy time giving birth to Stephanie, and naturally she would have wanted time before resuming a sexual relationship again. Was Cathy saying that Phil had tried to rush her, and in doing so had put her off of sex? That, of course, would explain why Phil had gone astray: When he couldn't get affection from his wife, he had started seeing other women.

Lindsay shook her head in a gesture of perplexity and said in genuine surprise, ‘I never suspected there was anything wrong between you.'

‘Wrong?' Cathy contested. ‘There's more to marriage than sex. A man can arrange that. And we had so much going for us. Shared pastimes and interests, and a deep caring for each other that never wavered.' A return of the old bitterness sparked in the melting
sadness
of her eyes. ‘If Phil had been given more time, I know that things would have sorted themselves out.'

‘Oh, Cathy,' Lindsay despaired. Cathy was still vindictive toward Nick Farraday for what she considered to be his part in Phil's death. How misguided she was! Couldn't she see that the tragedy that had occurred had been the result of their own shortcomings, hers and Phil's? Perhaps she didn't want to see . . . Perhaps she dared not see the truth because it might weigh too heavily on her conscience.

The final piece of the puzzle had clicked into place for Lindsay—the reason why Phil had sought the company of other women. There was no guarantee that her weak and fun-loving brother wouldn't have succumbed anyway, but the odds had gone heavily against him once Cathy had barred him from her bed following Stephanie's birth. Why hadn't Cathy been more reasonable and understood that a man couldn't wait indefinitely? Why hadn't Phil been more patient and understanding with Cathy and earned his way back into her bed with tender caring?

‘I'm glad things are better for you,' Lindsay said generously.

‘Yes, so am I. I don't know if anything will develop between me and Jim, but that's not the important point. What
is
important is the way I felt last night. We talked and danced, and I didn't freeze up on him. Not only that, I
found
myself responding to a man. It's been such a long time, I'd forgotten what it was like to have those kinds of feelings.'

‘As I said, I'm glad for you, Cathy. I truly am. We should have talked sooner.'

Soon enough for Lindsay to have salvaged some happiness for herself.

The following day she thought about going round to see Nick and try to put things right. She spent almost the entire morning rehearsing things to say, but nothing sounded appropriate.

When the phone rang and, on lifting the receiver, she heard his voice, she said hurriedly, ‘I was going to ring you, only I couldn't think of anything to say.'

‘That does sound like a logical reason for not ringing. If you didn't have anything to say, there wouldn't have been much point in calling, would there?'

‘No, I suppose not.' Why hadn't she let him say why he was phoning her?

‘I tried to phone you yesterday, during the day. I was tied up last night. A business dinner that went on and on.'

She wondered if his secretary, the cool and luscious Barbara Bates, had accompanied him. ‘I was out . . . with Cathy. We went on a shopping spree—for her, not for me, although I did see one dress I couldn't resist. And then Cathy treated me to lunch.'

‘And no doubt injected you with another
dose
of her poison about me.'

‘No, Nick, although we did talk. I admit that in the past I've swallowed too much of her poison, but not anymore. And yesterday I got a clearer picture of things, a better understanding of what motivated Phil. Even though I don't condone what he did, at least I can understand why he did it. I can even see the reasoning behind Cathy's misguided attitude.'

‘That's progress, to admit that you consider her attitude misguided.'

‘Did you want something special, Nick?' Lindsay asked, a great sadness engulfing her at Nick's polite, clipped tone. He was too formal, too far away.

‘I wanted to tell you that I know you weren't responsible for the leak in the Hot Sauce column.'

‘You know I wasn't!' Lindsay's breath rushed out of her. ‘That implies that you know who
was
!'

‘Yes. The culprit owned up. It was Luisa.'

‘Why would she do such a thing? Of course! She didn't want me in the first place, so she thought that if she let something get out, you would have to drop me.' She frowned. It was obvious that Luisa was the kind of woman who liked to get her own way, but it was unthinkable that she would resort to such tactics. Furthermore, wasn't Luisa her friend? ‘Luisa didn't know we'd been dancing
together,'
Lindsay pointed out.

‘No. But Maisie Pellman's spies are everywhere. Everything I do is considered an interesting tidbit. She would have known that I'd been seen dancing somewhat intimately with a blonde—and made the natural connection. Luisa had another reason for doing what she did besides wanting you off the promotion.'

‘Oh?'

‘I think we should talk about it, but not over the phone.'

‘About whether I'm on or off the promotion? Do you want me to come round to your office?'

‘No, my office isn't the place, either. In any case, I've got a fairly heavy schedule. What color is it?'

‘What color is what?'

‘The dress you bought.'

‘Oh . . . multicolored. Yellow and pink and blue.'

‘Would you like to give it an airing this evening? I'd like to take you out for a meal. We could talk things over then.'

‘Yes, all right.'

‘I'll call for you around seven-thirty.'

‘Fine.'

She put down the receiver, wondering how it was possible to be both jubilant and sad at the same time. She was happy at the thought of seeing Nick again, but her heart was
breaking
at the gulf his politeness had put between them. She knew what he was leading up to. He was going to tell her that she was off the promotion, she was certain of that. After tonight she might never see him again.

How often she'd gibed at his pompous, overbearing manner; how ironic that it was
that
Nick whom she wanted back! She didn't know this polite stranger at all, this Nick who was intent on pushing her out of his life.

For the rest of the day she couldn't concentrate on anything; she longed for the moment when she could start getting ready. Driven by her own impatience, and remembering that the last time he'd come early, she began her preparations much too soon and was ready by six-thirty. Silly of her, because she didn't know how well her new dress would stand up to wrinkles, and she didn't want to sit for long and spoil its crisp freshness.

She prowled around, her living room seeming more cramped than ever. But it wasn't as crowded as the thoughts rushing round in her brain. She kept thinking how wonderful she had felt in Nick's arms, and she wondered at the control he'd exercised to draw back from the brink of love-making. It was all her fault. She'd held back too long, and she'd lost him.

A knock sounded on the door and her eyes went to the clock. It was still a quarter short of
seven,
and Nick had said seven-thirty. She was right in thinking that he'd be early, but he was even earlier than she'd expected.

She raced to open the door, her smile of welcome freezing into politeness when she saw not Nick, but two men she'd never set eyes on before. One was tall and dark haired. The other man, though shorter, was the more thick-set of the two, and he had sandy-colored hair.

She couldn't explain why, but a feeling of deep unease ran through her. She cast a hasty glance down the stairs and along the passageway to the next apartment, her heart dropping when she saw no one about.

‘I'm sorry, but whatever it is you're selling, I'm not interested in buying,' she said in firm dismissal.

‘Selling? We're not selling anything, lady,' the dark-haired man said, the smile on his lips chilling her.

‘What do you want?' she asked in as cool and collected a voice as she could muster.

‘Just for you to come for a ride with us.'

‘No way!'

She attempted to slam the door in their smirking faces, but the sandy-haired man moved forward to impose his bulk in the doorway.

His friend, who seemed to have taken on the job of spokesman, said, ‘You don't understand. I'm not asking you, I'm telling you.'

‘And
I'm telling the pair of you to get lost. What in heaven's name is this all about?'

‘I'll explain everything as we go, lady, if I decide explanation is necessary.'

Things came flooding back to her. At the very beginning, when Nick's interest in her had been purely business, he'd said something about moving her into an apartment where she'd be protected. ‘You'll be a hot property. As such you'll require some form of protection,' he'd said. And more recently he had murmured about the piece in the Hot Sauce column making her vulnerable. Was this what he had meant?

Was this an attempted kidnapping? She couldn't see how these men had figured out that she was of any value, but yes, this was a kidnap bid!

‘No!' Lindsay gasped in stunned disbelief. It was too ludicrous. She'd been watching too much television. It couldn't be.

‘Oh, yes, lady,' the dark-haired man said. ‘I figured you for an intelligent chick. I knew you'd get there eventually.'

‘But why?'

‘Money. What else?'

‘I know that. But there won't be any money in this.'

‘No? That's just your opinion. It's our belief that Nick Farraday will pay handsomely.'

‘No, he won't. His interest in me was leaked to the press. I'm off the promotion now. But
even
if that weren't so, you wouldn't get any ransom for me. I'm not that valuable. Another girl would be assigned in my place.'

‘Sorry, lady. Good try. But we have it on the best authority that Nick Farraday's interest in you is the kind of business done between the sheets. Apparently you're special enough to him that he'll pay whatever we ask. No accounting for taste, though; I go for a well stacked chick every time, myself.'

The sandy-haired man spoke for the first time. ‘Cut the talk. We're wasting time.'

Wasting time was just what Lindsay wanted. Every moment they delayed brought Nick nearer. She just prayed that he would be early, that he'd get there soon enough to save her. She didn't know what price they'd put on her, or whether Nick would pay up before calling the police in. She thought the latter possibility more likely. Nick wasn't the type to be intimidated by thugs. But where would that leave her? Even when a ransom was paid, kidnap victims didn't always escape with their lives. She was suddenly very, very frightened.

‘Please go away. I won't report this, and I promise not to remember your faces, if you'll just leave.'

Oh, God, why hadn't they covered their faces? And why had she just said such a dumb thing? She knew that they weren't going to depart quietly, and that she'd just signed her death warrant by drawing attention to the fact
that
she could identify them.

Squaring her jaw at them, Lindsay said, ‘You won't get away with it. You can't believe you'll be able to walk out of this building without fuss. Someone's bound to be about, and I'm not going to go quietly. Use your common sense,
please.
'

‘Use yours, lady. If you love thy neighbor, as the good book tells you to, you'll be as quiet as the grave. Otherwise you'll assist anyone who tries to stop us into their own grave. You see, I've got a little friend in my pocket who'll help. I'm not a man of violence, and I'll only use my gun if provoked, so don't provoke me,' he advised menacingly.