A Lasting Love (3 page)

"A secret admirer?"

He nuzzled her ear ever so faintly. "You'll find that
I don't work in secret. Nor do I admire in secret. I want you to
know exactly where I stand."

"I... I think I do, Reid." His name felt
strange on her tongue, even though she felt so familiar in his
arms. So
right. "Reid . . ." she repeated it again,
just to hear the
sound.

When the dance ended he asked, "Could I
persuade you
to abandon your seat with old fuddy-duddy
Steiger and
join me for dinner, Loren?"

She laughed spontaneously at his fitting
description of
Representative Steiger. "With an offer
like that, how
could I refuse?"

"Good. I have a table reserved for us in the
back. If
we're lucky, maybe no one will sit with us. I
want you all to myself. There are a lot of things I'd like to know
about
you, Loren Randolph." His hand steered her to
the table.

"There are many things I'd like to know about
you, too,
Reid. The first is, how on earth did you
manage without
your boots tonight?" She halted beside
her chair and noted
his shiny black shoes with a wry
smile.

Reid's lips curled into a good-natured grin.
"This is my
monkey suit, reserved especially for these
dressy Washing
ton affairs. Believe me, young lady, if
you weren't among
the guests here tonight, I wouldn't
be here either."

Loren eased gracefully into the chair and
waited until
he sat next to her at the large round
table set for six. She,
too, privately hoped no one
joined them. "I see your father
is here tonight, Reid.
In fact, Senator Mecina is at the
honored guests'
table. Why aren’t you there?"

"I manage only my father's office and
campaigns. I do
not attend every function he does. I
stopped being in
fatuated with all these beautiful
people long ago."

"Why, to see you tonight, Reid, I thought you
were one
of them," Loren teased. She couldn't help
admiring the
way the tuxedo fit his lean
form.

Reid nodded for the waiter to bring them wine.
"Be
cause my father has been in politics for as long as
I can
remember, I'm accustomed to these events. I can
shoot the bull with any crowd, and I know which fork to use
when
there are more than one. But, I'll admit, I
prefer to be in
my jeans and boots."

"I can tell."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Oh, it's not that you look out of place. It's
just that you
have a casual, western look, like that
jacket is in your way
and you might be shedding it any
minute."

He laughed aloud. "It has crossed my mind, but
I won't
embarrass you, Loren." He waited until the
waiter had
poured their wine, then lifted the crystal
glass to toast
Loren. "To a lovely lady."

"Thank you," she murmured. Their eyes met over
the
wineglasses, mesmerized by the silent magic
weaving be
tween them.

Finally, reluctantly, Loren initiated the
conversation.
"Tell me, what was it like to grow up in
a political family
in Arizona?"

He shrugged. "Just about like it was for you, I
guess.
Only my father was gone from home quite a bit.
When he was there, life was chaotic, but fun. There were always
people in and around our house. Some were guests, others there for
business. Something always going on. When we
didn't
have a full house, we had invitations to just about everything that
came to town. We always had tickets to the circus, ice show,
ballgames, things that kids love. I
finally outgrew
the freebies and left the social events to my
father.
Sometimes I went along to the political speeches to
hand out brochures or simply to read the crowds. Later Dad
and I discussed their reactions, moods, that sort of
thing."

Loren laughed delightedly. "Yes, I've done
those things
for my father too." They had more in
common than she
thought. Somehow it was a small
assurance.

They were joined by two other couples at the
table, and
Loren tried to mask her disappointment. She
would have to share Reid. Still, she felt close to him tonight.
Just the
two of them, attuned only to each other,
alone in a crowd
of four hundred. During the course of
dinner Reid enchanted them all with tales of living in Arizona.
Loren listened, almost charmed, certainly intrigued. There was
nothing to relate this engaging man to the menacing one
who had followed her. By the end of dinner it didn't
matter that he had made brash claims about making love
to her. In fact, it was hard to believe Reid was that
same
arrogant man. Maybe she just didn't want to
believe it.

Afterward they danced again. Loren floated in
Reid's
arms, her blue eyes meeting his in an unspoken
agreement.

"How about coffee? Someplace private?"

She agreed, never doubting the prudence of
going with him. "I know a wonderful little Bohemian spot in
George
town."

"Great, I've been wanting to get you alone all
night."

"We have been—" The words slipped out before
she
could stop them.

"You know, you're right." He held her, even
though the
music had stopped. Their eyes locked, and
Loren knew he
felt the magic, too, even if neither
understood.

"There is so much more I want to know about
you,
Loren."

"There is so much I want to say . . ."

By the end of the evening, Loren Randolph
trusted
that
Arizona man . . .
and more. She was fascinated by
him.

They rode around the beautifully lit tidal
basin before
crossing the bridge into Arlington County
and home. Reid
drove with precision to the cobblestone
street and stopped in front of her narrow-doored brick town house.
Why
shouldn't he? He had been past the place often
enough.

Loren turned her face upward, not feeling the
chilling
wind off the Potomac that whipped around
them. The
touch of his lips on hers filled her with an
unquenched
desire, unlike any she had ever
experienced.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he promised.

"You'd better wear your grubbies if you do.
Saturday
is gardening day in Alexandria. It's an old
tradition."

"In the middle of winter?" His breath was
frosty.
"What in the world are you doing? Planting
bluebon
nets?"

She blushed at the mention of his first
promise. "Hardly! This is mostly clean up time, getting ready for
spring
flowers. A few crocuses have already poked up
through
the snow."

"I'll help you tomorrow on one condition," he
proposed.

Loren looked up questioningly into his dark,
shadowed
face.

"That you'll go out to dinner with me tomorrow
night.
Someplace special . . . just the two of
us."

Loren caught her breath. Even though she hardly
knew him, she wanted to be with him. Perhaps dinner would be
okay . . . just dinner.

"That would be nice."

The next day Reid appeared in well-worn jeans
and an old sweater. They spent the warmest part of the day
work
ing in the tiny garden that nestled between
Loren's tall
brick town house and the identical one to
the rear. They
raked and bagged the winter debris of
leaves and sticks;
Loren mapped out a new flower bed;
Reid turned the soil for her. When the wind began to whip down
between the
brick buildings and the afternoon sun was
blocked from
the small garden, they sat in Loren's
cozy yellow kitchen,
drinking hot spiced tea and
nibbling anise cookies. It was as if they had settled in
together.

Chapter Two

Loren opened the door that evening to a man who was
clean shaven, his dark hair brushed back neatly, his navy,
pin-stripe suit framing his broad shoulders precisely. Damn he was
handsome. Loren smiled at the sight of him. She had never
considered him handsome before—appealing, intriguing, darkly
masculine—this man was all that and more. Well, he was still rugged
and square-jawed, with lines running beside each cheek. She thought
of that hidden dimple. Her eyes traveled down his length.

His voice was impatient. "Do I pass inspection, or
must I stand out here and freeze?"

"No boots." Loren laughed, moving aside for him to
enter. "You didn't wear your boots."

"Of course not." He closed the door behind him and
cupped her face with both hands, kissing her nose lightly. "I don't
want to embarrass my lovely Washington lady by appearing to be a
boorish clod in cowboy boots. But I still feel naked without
them."

She laughed, giddy with the closeness of him. "Your
hands are cold."

"Sorry. See what a boorish clod I am? Think I can
fake it tonight?" He moved his hands to her arms, which were
covered with long sleeves of old lace and eyelet that allowed small
patches of pinkish skin to show through. "Loren, you're beautiful.
This dress . . . it's gorgeous, just like you."

"Do you like it?" she breathed, wishing he would take
his hands off her so she could think straight.

He dropped his hands to his sides and stepped back,
assessing her appearance. "It's unusual, old-fashioned. And you
look lovely in it."

Slightly unnerved by his overwhelming presence and
lavish compliments, Loren fingered the old lace. "This dress
belonged to my grandmother. It's been in our family for years."

"My God," he grinned, revealing the dimple. "I'm
escorting an heirloom tonight. Ready to go?"

She nodded and grabbed an intricately crocheted
shawl. As his hands draped it across her shoulders, he asked,
"Another treasure from your grandmother?"

"No," she answered as they glided out into the frosty
night. "My elderly neighbor gave it to me. The one who made the
anise cookies. She's originally from Germany and has fantastic
skills that most modern women, including myself, never take time to
master. Isn't it beautiful?"

"Ummm." He nodded, encircling her shoulders with his
arm.

"She crochets these to sell, and I sometimes help her
by getting orders from my friends. Her income is quite limited, and
I try to help her whenever I can."

"Sounds like the two of you complement each other."
He opened the heavy car door.

"I suppose we do," she agreed as she slid into the
plush navy blue interior of the white Continental.

Reid covered the distance around the car quickly and
sat close beside her. "I like to think we complement each other,
too, Loren. You're elegant and lovely and smart. I'm rough and
unpolished—"

She interrupted. "And bright and very interesting and
. . ." His face was unnervingly close to hers.

"And attracted to you, Loren Randolph." His lips,
warm and sweet, caressed hers gently, lingering to savor her
honeyed taste.

In the brief moment of that tranquil kiss,
Loren forgot everything around her. She was drawn to Reid's ardent
warmth, the frigid air suddenly ceasing to chill. She immediately
dismissed her personal policy to remain aloof to
the
men she dated, especially those from out-of-town. She
disregarded the fears this man had engendered just
yester
day when he faced her alone in the empty office.
Loren
knew only that she was physically, emotionally,
wildly,
attracted to this man who kissed her so
gently, yet
thoroughly. And she wanted this feeling to
last forever.

"We'd better go," he breathed, moving
reluctantly
away from her willing lips. "Before we
freeze."

"I'm not cold," she murmured before she thought.

His hand slipped under her thick tawny hair. "I
know
...
oh, God, Loren, don't tempt me
so." He moved as if
to kiss her again, then turned
abruptly, started the car, and
wheeled out onto the
bumpy, cobblestone street.

Minutes later Reid pulled to a stop before a
looming four-story brick-and-stone warehouse. "How about
sea
food?"

"Love it." She smiled happily. "And the Seaport
Inn is one of my favorite places. The view over the Potomac
is
gorgeous."

"I don't know about the Potomac, but the view
across the table will be gorgeous," he said as they ambled
along
a two hundred year old brick
sidewalk.

"Do you like seafood too?" She gazed up
expectantly.

"No, but I knew you did." He steered her to the
narrow
wooden stairs that creaked as they stepped up
together.