Authors: Phyllis Halldorson
But the fact remained that she'd deliberately and
coldbloodedly lied to him. Both his public relations man and the
private investigator had seen Paul and Mary E. Haley together, nights
and on weekends, on numerous occasions. Why had she told him there was
no special man in her life? What game was she playing? And how was he
going to find out if he'd been so clumsy in his questioning that she'd
never see him again?
With a sigh he gripped the steering wheel. He knew what he
had to do, and his distaste for the task came close to revulsion. If
Elyse was willing to forgive him, he'd have to apologize and romance
her a little. Make her think he was jealous. See if he could get her to
admit she was seeing another man and what her motive was for lying
about it.
When all this was over, Clint intended to make damn sure
Paul never put him in such an untenable position again. It was time
little brother learned the facts of life: namely, that big brother
Clint wasn't averse to kicking Paul's behind right out of the law firm
if he didn't stop screwing up and start studying for his bar exam.
Elyse sat quietly in the passenger seat with her hands
folded in her lap, while Janey snoozed in the back. She should have
known better than to let herself be captivated by a handsome stranger
with a winning smile, a smooth line and a way with children. He was
just like most of the other men she'd met since Janey was born; sure
that because she'd had a child without benefit of wedding vows she must
be a bit of a trollop, a hot little number who couldn't wait to jump in
the sack with any man who showed an interest.
Her stomach muscles knotted, and she wished she hadn't
just eaten. She'd thought Clint was different. He'd seemed so gentle
and understanding and genuinely interested in her and Janey that she'd
let down her guard. She'd reacted to his charisma with the trust of a
wide-eyed fifteen-year-old experiencing the first stirrings of her
sexuality.
The faint flutter of nausea reminded her to try to relax.
Her sexuality had been stirred up years ago, and it had brought her
both ecstasy and anguish. She'd never settle for less than the ecstasy,
nor deliberately put herself in a position to experience more of the
anguish.
No sense getting so upset over this. Clinton Edwards
didn't mean anything to her. Once they got home she'd thank him for his
thoughtfulness to Janey, tell him goodbye and never see him again. So
why did she feel as though she'd just been kicked in the stomach?
She was so preoccupied with her disturbing thoughts that
she jumped when Clint reached over and covered her clenched hands with
his big one. "I'm sorry, Elyse," he said when she looked at him
questioningly. "I didn't mean to frighten you, nor did I intend to
upset you with my questions. I'm sorry if you thought I was probing.
Actually, I was just trying to get to know you better."
"By accusing me of lying?" She withdrew her hands from his.
He recaptured one of them. "I wasn't accusing you of
lying," he said softly. "I just find it difficult to believe you aren't
overrun with suitors."
"Because of my lax morals, you mean." It wasn't a question
but a statement, and her tone was bitter.
This time it was Clint who dropped her hand and stared.
"What in hell are you talking about?"
He really did look confused. For a moment she could almost
believe her statement had shocked him, but she quickly regained her
hold on reality.
"Don't be coy with me, Clint," she shot back. "I've had
four years of sly innuendos from men who assumed that since I had an
illegitimate child I was just panting to go to bed with anyone who
beckoned."
She heard Clint's choked denial but was too incensed to
stop. "I'll admit you used more finesse, but you were still leading up
to the same old thing. I slept with Janey's father, therefore I should
be eager to give you the same privilege. Well, forget it. I'm afraid
you've wasted both your time and your money."
Elyse had been so intent on what she was saying that she
hadn't noticed they'd entered Placerville and were approaching her
house. Clint pulled over to the curb, but before he could speak she had
her seat belt off and the door open. She jumped out and jerked open the
back door to grab her sleeping daughter, but somehow Clint was beside
her.
"I'll carry her," he said tersely.
"Never mind. I'll carry her myself," she grated as she
hauled the little girl out of the car and over her shoulder.
"Elyse, if you'll just calm down and—"
She didn't wait to hear what he had to say but hurried up
the walk to the front porch.
He rushed after her and caught up in time to put his arm
around her waist and help her up the steps with her inert burden. When
they reached the top, she shook free of his arm and tried to open her
purse with one hand. He took it from her and extracted her key, then
opened the heavy door and held it for her to enter. She did, quickly
pushing it shut behind her. It locked automatically, leaving Clint
standing outside, banging and calling to her to let him in.
Elyse ignored him and carried Janey across the shop and
into the hall, where she literally ran into her sister, Mary Elizabeth,
who was hurrying toward the commotion at the door.
They both stepped back, and Elyse's eyes widened with
surprise. "Liz," she gasped, "I didn't expect you back from Monterey
until late tonight."
The pretty, dark-haired woman looked askance. "Obviously
not. What on earth is going on out there? Do you want me to call the
police?"
Elyse shook her head. "No, he'll quiet down in a minute
and go away. Excuse me while I put Janey to bed for her nap. Then I'll
tell you all about it."
"Please do," Liz drawled as the banging continued.
Still seething, Elyse took Janey upstairs and laid her
carefully on the single brass bed in the pink-and-white nursery next to
her own bedroom. She took off the child's sneakers and socks and
covered her with the hand-knit coverlet that was kept folded at the
bottom of the bed, before kissing her on the forehead and closing the
door behind her as she left.
Downstairs the commotion had stopped, and a quick glance
out the glass door revealed that the expensive Cadillac was no longer
parked at the curb. But in the back parlor, which they used as a family
living room, Liz had no intention of letting the subject drop. "I take
it that was one of your disappointed suitors?"
Elyse grimaced. "Spring seems to bring out the rutting
instinct in males."
Liz raised one eyebrow. "Honey,
you
bring out the rutting instinct in males. What did this one do that was
so awful?"
Elyse shrugged. "Actually, he didn't
do
anything. It was more what he said."
"So what did he say?"
"Well, it wasn't so much what he said as how he said it."
Elyse was beginning to realize she may have overreacted.
"Good grief, woman," Liz exploded, "did the man do
anything to warrant getting the door slammed in his face or not?"
Elyse slumped in the old-fashioned leather rocker. "Yes.
Oh, I don't know. He was subtle, but…well, I made a mistake
going out with him. He just wandered in here yesterday looking for a
doll—"
She told her sister everything that had happened during
the past two days with Clint. "Maybe I did overreact," she said in
conclusion, "but he seemed to assume I was just a party girl always
looking for a good time."
Liz sighed and brushed a lock of short dark hair off her
forehead. "Elyse, you're too sensitive. Everyone in town knew you were
engaged to Jerry and making plans to be married when he died. None of
them are throwing rocks at you. And as for other men… ?
They're only reacting to the way you look. Face it, sweetie, with that
wild hair and husky voice—to say nothing of all your other
natural attributes—you could turn on the proverbial stone
statue. Enjoy it, for heaven's sake. Most of us would sell our souls
for a little of what you've got in such abundance."
Elyse shook her head. "I don't know. Raising a child alone
is such a responsibility. I'd like to marry someday. I need a man in my
life and Janey needs a father, but for both our sakes I have to be
careful. I'm as susceptible as any other woman to a good looking guy's
advances, but I won't get involved in a romance that's not leading to a
commitment."
Liz drew her legs up under her on the wheat-and-brown
homespun couch and leaned against the thickly padded arm. "I wish I had
your good sense and your self-discipline," she said.
The ragged edge to her voice made Elyse look up. She'd
been too preoccupied to notice before, but her sister was considerably
more subdued than she should be after spending a weekend on the
magnificent and expensive Pebble Beach Golf Course with a wickedly
handsome partner.
"Liz, is something wrong?" Elyse paused, then continued.
"Why are you and Paul home from Monterey so early? You didn't quarrel,
did you?"
Liz uttered an unladylike snort. "We'd have been smarter
if we had! Instead we spent the night together—as in one
room, one bed and one hell of a lot of fantastic loving."
Elyse grinned. "Well, then, what are you moping around
about? Sounds like a mutually satisfactory weekend. You and Paul have
been dating for several weeks, and Paul's feelings for you have been
pretty obvious. You must have known where this was leading."
Liz looked stunned. "I'm old enough to be his mother!" she
shrieked.
Elyse's smile faded, and a look of disbelief replaced it.
"Mary Elizabeth Haley, you're an idiot! Ten years is a long way from a
generation, and what does his age have to do with anything? Apparently
he wasn't too young to perform."
"Don't be crude," Liz snapped heatedly. "You know
perfectly well what I'm saying. He's just out of law school. Hasn't
even passed the bar yet. I never intended things to go this far. We
started out as golfing partners. We were well matched and I liked him,
so when he asked me to go out with him I did."
She threw out her arms. "It just snowballed from there. I
knew my feelings were getting out of hand, that I should stop seeing
him, but he wouldn't let me. Kept teasing me about my 'absurd age
fallacy' as he called it."
She dropped her hands back in her lap. "I must have been
out of my mind to agree to go with him this weekend, even though we had
booked separate rooms. I'm no starry-eyed virgin. I know all about
lust, even if I do have middle-aged spread and crow's-feet." Her voice
broke, but she continued. "I've made a damned fool of myself, and
I—I've told him I'm not going to s—s—see
him anymore." She dropped her face in her hands, and a sob shook her
shoulders.
"Liz!" Elyse jumped up and crossed the few steps to the
sofa. She sat down and put her arms around her sister. "You do
not
have middle-aged spread and crow's-feet, and we're not talking lust but
strong mutual attraction and caring. You're taking this business of age
too seriously. It doesn't seem to bother Paul. Why should it bother
you?"
"B—b—because I'm old enough to know
better. We're not discussing Joe Blow here. Paul's ancestors came to
California with the gold rush and have been movers and shakers in state
politics ever since. His grandfather was lieutenant governor, and both
his father and older brother have served terms in the Senate."
Elyse stroked Liz's back as her sister wept. "What does
Paul's family have to do with anything?" she asked softly. "He may be
younger than you, but he's certainly no child. He's two years older
than I am and more than capable of making his own decisions. He doesn't
need his father's permission to court you."
Liz raised her tearstained face and reached into the
pocket of her slacks for a tissue. "The problem is, it's gone past
courting," she said, and blew her nose. "Paul's asked me to marry him."
Elyse opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She was
speechless.
"You see?" Liz wailed accusingly. "You're as appalled as I
am."
Elyse shut her mouth and took a deep breath. "I'm not
appalled, I'm surprised. Men don't usually propose marriage quite so
quickly. Are you in love with him? Yes, of course you are. You wouldn't
have gone to bed with him if you weren't."
"It doesn't matter if I am or not, I've no intention of
encouraging this lunacy." Liz wiped at her wet cheeks with the palms of
her hands. "I told him no and sent him away. I'm just a novelty. The
young women swarm all over him. He won't have any trouble replacing me
with someone more suitable."
Her efforts at drying her face were in vain as her tears
spilled down it once again.
Clint sat at the desk in the study of his large
ranch-style house in Cameron Park and tried to work, but his thoughts
kept returning to last Sunday and Elyse. He hadn't meant to make her so
angry. Obviously she was more sensitive than he'd imagined about her
status as an unwed mother.
He hadn't even been thinking about that when he'd
questioned her about her social life. He'd only wanted to make her stop
lying to him and admit there was a man in her life. He'd wanted her to
talk about Paul—where they went, what they did, how she felt
about him. Instead she'd assumed he was coming on to her.
He slapped his hand on the desk and stood up. Well, hell,
that's what he
had
been doing, and no matter how
he tried to rationalize his behavior, they both knew it. His little
scheme to investigate her had blown up in his face and left him feeling
like the bastard he was.
He prowled around the room. Again, as had happened so
often in the past three days and nights, the picture rose in his mind
of her sitting next to him in the car, looking as if he'd just accused
her of being the town tramp.
He hadn't even understood what she was haranguing him
about. It wasn't until she came right out and told him that he realized
how his questions had sounded to her. All he'd wanted then was to hold
her in his arms and apologize, to somehow take back the pain he'd
caused her and wipe the look of bewildered hurt from her delicate face.