Heart of Hurricane (11 page)

❧

Ward set the night lock on the foyer door as Greg had asked, then let himself out as quietly as possible. When he reached his car he paused, bracing his forearm on the roof, and looked back at the house. His clenched fist hammered softly against the cool metal, the rapid blows betraying his frustration.

I handled that all wrong. From the moment she opened the door I did nothing but make one mistake after another, and the hell of it is, I knew it all along. I just couldn't seem to stop myself
. Ward's mouth twisted in self-disgust, then slowly softened into a smile as he remembered how she had looked, clutching that wisp of material to her. Lord, he'd wanted to throw her down and ravish her on the spot.

Ward snorted ruefully.
At least that was one impulse I managed to stifle. Which was a damned good thing. Greg would probably have tried to tear me limb from limb.
As it was, he'd had the devil's own time convincing the boy he meant Althea no harm. Though it had been a bothersome complication he could have well done without, a part of him had been glad to see Greg rush to his sister's rescue. The way Althea clucked over him like a brood hen with one chick, he'd been afraid that perhaps the boy was a spineless dinger who was content to let his sister look after him, but evidently that wasn't the case. Greg had had fire in his eyes when he'd confronted Ward outside Althea's door. And according to Sid, on the rig the boy did his job and kept his nose clean. All good signs—which has absolutely nothing to do with the problem at hand! Ward reminded himself scathingly. Bracing both elbows on the car's roof, he propped his forehead against the heels of his hands.
Lord, I must be losing my mind! I just spent the most miserable night of my life, eaten up with jealousy over a woman, and here I stand thinking about her brother!

Unwanted, the same images that had tormented Ward all evening came back to taunt him: that guy, that Ed What's-his-name, dancing with Althea, holding her close, smiling at her, getting her to open up and talk, making her laugh, as he never had been able to. Ward had been in agony at the painful pictures his mind created, but that had been nothing compared to the way he had felt as he had stood there in the shadows at the top of the stairs, watching Althea say good night to her date.

Impatient with himself, he jerked open the car door and slid in behind the wheel. Jealousy was a futile, stupid, childish emotion and a complete waste of time, and he knew it. With an angry flick of his wrist, Ward started the car and reversed out of the drive. He also knew that if that character had touched her he'd have knocked him flat.

Ward sighed heavily as he guided the car through the darkened streets. He hadn't a clue as to how to handle Althea, except that it was a dead certainty his father's method wouldn't work. The more he rushed her, the more she retreated. His palm struck the steering wheel in silent frustration.
Why? Why?

For the first time in his life, Ward began to regret his past success with the opposite sex. Not that he hadn't enjoyed it. The women he had known had all been beautiful and desirable, and they had certainly assuaged his physical needs. But it had all been too easy, too effortless. Nothing in his past experience had taught him how to court a woman like Althea.

Ward drove home by rote, his agile mind groping with the problem to no avail. By the time he had showered and crawled naked into his king-size bed, he had finally come to the galling conclusion that the only choice he had was to wait and see.

❧

On Monday morning Ward went into the office, grim-faced but resolute. Two weeks later, he was still waiting.

Much to his disgust, Althea acted as though nothing had happened, going about her work with a cool, detached efficiency that infuriated him. She never quite looked at him, spoke to him only when she absolutely had to, and took great pains to see that they never came within touching distance. That he was getting nowhere fast was all too obvious, and every day that passed only served to exacerbate his already short temper.

When he returned one afternoon from a hair-pulling session with two of his vice-presidents to find Martin and Althea standing in front of the window in her office, talking together softly, he saw red.

"I'm not paying you two to stand around and gaze out the window," he snapped caustically, slamming the outer door behind him.

Both Althea and Martin jumped and swung around. "We were just looking at the weather," Martin returned genially. He didn't appear the least perturbed by his employer's biting tone. "We just got word that that tropical storm out in the Gulf has developed into a full-fledged hurricane and is on the move."

Ward frowned. For the past three days the storm had been hovering offshore, building up steam, and everyone along the Gulf Coast had been keeping a wary eye on it. "Are they predicting landfall yet?" he asked as he broodingly watched Althea march back to her desk and begin to riffle through a stack of papers.

"No. Not yet. Right now it's paralleling the coast, moving at about fifteen miles an hour. The National Weather Service is tracking it, of course, but at this point it's anybody's guess."

"I see. Well, keep me informed. If it looks as though it's heading this way, we'll have to let everyone leave early so they can either get out of town or seek shelter. He gave Althea a long keen look, then picked up his telephone messages and disappeared into his office.

Repeatedly during the afternoon Althea's eyes were drawn to the window. The sky was a dark gunmetal and it seemed to her that the intermittent rain squalls that lashed against the building were getting stronger.

It's probably just your nerves, she told herself impatiently as she lifted the phone receiver and punched out Judy's number. When she didn't answer on the tenth ring, Althea hung up and chewed worriedly on her lower lip. Afraid that Judy might be upset about the storm, Althea had been calling every few minutes since they'd heard the news, but so far no luck. Where could she be? Judy's due date had come and gone yesterday. Althea couldn't imagine her straying very far from home when she might have to make a mad dash for the hospital at any moment.

As the day wore on and she still did not get an answer at Judy's, Althea's anxiety increased. When Ward called her in for a long session of dictation, she was so upset she was barely able to concentrate and had to ask him to start over several times.

It was past quitting time when Martin stuck his head in the door. "I'm on my way out, but I thought you ought to know that it was just announced over the radio that Hurricane Adam is headed for the eastern coast of Mexico. They expect landfall sometime tomorrow morning."

"Great! That lets us off the hook."

"Yeah. It also means I can keep my date tonight." He shot them a devilish grin and winked. "I'll see you both Monday. Don?t work too hard."

When Martin withdrew, Ward glanced at his watch, then leaned back in his chair and stretched. He had long since loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt collar, and his sleeves were rolled up almost to his elbows. He looked tired and rumpled and impossibly, beautifully male. Althea quickly averted her eyes and waited for him to continue, her pencil poised over the steno pad.

Instead he surprised her by saying, "Since Adam is going to miss us, we'll be able to come in tomorrow. We'll finish this up then."

Althea's head snapped up. "Tomorrow? But tomorrow is Saturday." She had planned to go shopping to get Greg some new clothes, what with the new semester starting in less than two weeks.

"I am well aware of that. But I want these letters ready for mailing by tomorrow noon, and when that's done you and I are going to work up a report for that board meeting on Monday. Which means we're going to have to dig for some statistical info."

"Yes, sir," Althea replied crisply, effectively disguising her dismay. "What time shall I be here?"

"Eight should be early enough."

"Very well, I'll see you then." Without looking at him, Althea stood up and headed for the door.

Due to the rainstorm, it took longer than usual to get home, and with every passing minute Althea grew more and more nervous. When she finally drove into the garage and saw Judy's car there, she heaved a sigh. Her relief, however, lasted only as long as it took to get to the Fishers' front door, for there, stuck to the outside, was a hastily scrawled note: "Baby coming! Took taxi to hospital.''

Althea's heart leapt right up into her throat. If Judy took a taxi to the hospital, that meant she was alone! Spinning on her heel, Althea ran back to the garage.

Thirty minutes later, she arrived at the hospital to find that the birth had taken place six hours earlier, and mother and baby were doing fine.

"Well, well, well. You certainly look pleased with yourself," Althea teased when she stepped into Judy's room and found her propped up in bed, wearing a frilly pink bed jacket and a look of utter contentment. The smile she turned on Althea was beatific.

"Oh, Al. I'm so glad you came. Have you seen him yet? Isn't he beautiful?" The words came pouring out in an excited rush, tumbling one on top of the other.

"Whoa. One thing at a time. No, I haven't seen the baby. Yes, I'm sure he's beautiful. And what on earth do you mean, taking a taxi to the hospital? You should have called me."

Judy bit her lip and ducked her head guiltily. "I'm sorry, Al. I didn't want to bother you."

"So where is Dan?"

"He left for Rome this morning."

"He left . . ." Incredulity robbed Althea of the power of speech for a full five seconds. All she could do was stare at her friend, eyes wide. When she found her voice again it was shaking with fury. "Do you mean to tell me that he just blithely waved good-bye and hopped on a plane, knowing that you could go into labor at any time?" she demanded.

"Well, it is his job," Judy insisted weakly, her hands nervously plucking at the white thermal blanket.

"There is such a thing as an emergency leave, you know. I can't believe that insensitive clod just went off and left you like this!" He probably has some hot little number waiting for him in Rome, she added silently.

"Althea, please," Judy pleaded softly. "It's all right. Really."

Althea was bursting to say more. She was so angry with Dan Fisher that if she could have gotten her hands on him at that moment she would have throttled him. But the imploring look on Judy's face forced her to swallow her angry words. Dan wasn't there to hear them and they would only upset Judy, which was exactly what a new mother didn't need.

Dutifully Althea made a trip to the nursery to view Master Christopher Daniel Fisher, then returned to his mother's side with assurances that her baby was indeed beautiful. Judy was floating on a cloud and chattered away happily for the next couple of hours, but by the time visiting hours were over her eyelids were beginning to droop.

It was almost ten when Althea finally let herself into her apartment, and her stomach was growling loudly, but she was too tired to bother cooking a meal. Instead she settled for a tuna sandwich and a glass of milk, then headed for the shower. When she emerged from the bathroom a short time later she sat down wearily on the side of the bed. It had been a draining day, emotionally and physically. The way she felt at that moment she was sure she could easily sleep for the next twenty-four hours, but of course, that wasn't possible. Resignedly she reached for the clock and set the alarm for six-thirty. Tomorrow promised to be another one of those days.

If there was one thing worse than working on Saturday, it was working on Saturday in the accounting department, pulling together page after page of dry figures. Not only that, it was spooky.

Althea paused to flex her shoulders and looked around the cavernous room filled with dozens of identical desks placed in rows that marched its length and width, each with its own computer terminal. She was the only one there and the emptiness of the room seemed to amplify the slightest sound. Even her breathing sounded loud. A faint rattling noise, similar to distant machine-gun fire, filtered in from the next room, and with a sigh Althea turned her attention back to the terminal in front of her. At the rate that printer was going it would soon be finished with the last batch of data she had called up.

When, at last, she had gathered all the information Ward had requested, she shut down the computer terminal and retrieved the hard copy from the printer.

Stepping into the elevator, Althea experienced a moment of vertigo, as though the ground beneath her feet were moving, and she clutched the side of the cubicle for balance. When it had passed, she rubbed her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. That's what happens when you spend four hours staring at little green numbers on a black screen, she told herself ruefully.

During the ride up to the executive floor she leaned against the paneled wall and flipped through the fan-folded pages, wondering dispiritedly how much longer it was going to take to compile the report Ward wanted. It was already past six, and except for a short sandwich break at noon, she had been hard at it all day.

Althea could hear the phone in her office ringing the moment she stepped from the elevator. Breaking into a trot, she raced through the reception room and into her office, casting an irritated look at Ward's closed door as she hurried across to her desk. Why hadn't he answered it? Surely he could hear the darn thing ringing?

"Kingman Enterprises. Miss Winters speaking," she panted into the receiver.

"Al! What in heaven's name are you doing at the office?" Judy demanded in a shrill tone.

"Would you believe, working?" Her expression wry, Althea tossed the computer printout onto her chair and leaned against the edge of her desk. Evidently Judy was experiencing a case of postnatal nerves, and since Dan wasn't there she had decided to unload on her.

"Working!" Judy's voice had risen another octave. "Good Lord, Al! I've heard of being dedicated to your job, but this is ridiculous! I've been calling your apartment all morning. When I got no answer I decided to try the office, but I really didn't expect to find you there! What's the matter with you? You know as well as I how dangerous these things can be!"

"Judy, would you just calm down and tell me what you're so upset about?"

There was dead silence for five full seconds. "You mean you don't know?" Judy asked at last in a low, incredulous voice.

"Know what?"

"Al, Hurricane Adam changed course sometime during the night and is headed straight for Houston. In fact, it's practically on top of us."

"Whaaat?" The stunned one-word exclamation came out in a long gasp. Straightening abruptly, Althea turned toward the window. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes grew huge. "Oh . . . my . . . God."

Appalled, Althea could only stand and stare for a moment. The sky was a dark, angry color, somewhere between black and green, and wind-whipped rain lashed against the window in continuous gusts, the sheeting water flowing down the panes like a waterfall. Suddenly she realized that the unsteadiness she had experienced in the elevator hadn't been due to overwork—the building was actually swaying!

That thought galvanized her into action. "Look, Judy, I've got to run. Thanks for calling."

"Al? Al, what are you going to do? What—?"

The receiver was thrust back into its cradle, abruptly cutting off Judy's questions, and in the next instant Althea was moving. Without knocking, she burst through Ward's door. Coming to a stop in the middle of the floor, she blurted out, "We've got to get out of here!"

It took a few seconds for her words to penetrate Ward's deep concentration. When they did, he raised his head slowly from the papers he was studying, his brows drawn together in irritation.

"What?" he snapped distractedly. Then, as her taut stance and panicked expression registered, the irritation swiftly changed to concern. Ward stood up and headed around the desk. "What is it, Althea? What's the matter?"

"The storm, the hurricane, it's headed this way!" she said in an agitated voice, waving her hand toward the curtained windows that comprised two walls of Ward's office. "Judy just called to tell me."

Ward stopped in mid-stride and stared at her, then abruptly changed course and strode over to the window, muttering a string of colorful curses when he yanked the drapery back and viewed the threatening scene.

Decisively he dropped the curtain and spun around. "Get your things. We're getting out of here."

Althea didn't need any urging. Within seconds she and Ward were on the express elevator zooming downward to the lobby. "If the streets are passable, we should be able to make it to my place in about twenty minutes," Ward announced tersely into the strained silence.

Alarmed, Althea looked at him as though he'd taken leave of his senses. "I'm not going home with you," she denied instantly. "I've got to see about my house!"

"The hell you do! I have a condominium in a steel-and-concrete building. You'll be a damned sight safer there than in that house."

The cutting look Althea shot him was pure derision.

Wanna bet?
she thought sourly, but before she could voice another protest, the elevator door swished open, and, with his hand firmly grasping her elbow, Ward marched her out.

Three steps into the lobby they both skidded to an appalled halt. The scene beyond the plate-glass doors was awesome. With uncontrolled fury the wind whipped through the canyons of downtown Houston, buffeting the tall skyscrapers, creating a terrible high-pitched moaning sound that made the hair on the back of Althea's neck stand on end. Utility poles and lamp stanchions were snapped like matchsticks, lying drunkenly across the street. Trashcans, signboards, tree limbs, even the hood from an automobile, were swirling through the air in a wild, frenzied dance, like so many pieces of tissue paper. Sheet after sheet of rain hurled itself at the building in a paroxysm of fury. Above it all, the sky was a livid, sickly color. The streets were deserted. There wasn't a car or another living soul in sight.

Something crashed against the building, and Althea jumped and cried out. Then, before her astonished eyes, the floor-to-ceiling windows on the glass-and-steel building across the street began to explode, adding jagged glass to the other lethal objects flying through the air.

"Come on," Ward growled in Althea's ear as he urged her back toward the bank of elevators. "We can't go out there. We'll have to go back upstairs."

"But ... my house," she protested weakly.

"Althea, for God's sake! Your house either survives or it doesn't, and your being there won't make any difference, except maybe to get you killed. The wisest thing to do is to go back upstairs. On the fortieth floor we'll at least be above the flying debris.'' Without giving her a chance to reply, he bundled her into the elevator and punched the button for their floor.

They made the ascent in silence. Althea was too nervous to say a word. Grim-faced, Ward watched the lighted indicator panel above the door, as though by doing so he could make the elevator go faster.

"We'll close the doors to my office and yours and stay in the reception area, away from the windows, just in case they shatter," he said when they stepped out on their floor.

The words were barely out of his mouth when the lights went out.

"Ward!'' Althea screamed, and flung her arms around wildly. When she encountered his warm body, she hurled herself at him, burying her face against his chest and wrapping her arms tightly around his middle. "Oh, Ward!"

Strong, muscular arms closed around her, holding her shivering body close to his reassuringly solid male form. "It's okay, honey. It's okay," Ward crooned against the top of her head. "Just stay still a minute and let your eyes get accustomed to the dark."

At that moment the sway of the building was once again very pronounced, and Althea whimpered and tightened her hold. The moist warmth of Ward's breath filtered through her hair as he murmured softly, "All buildings sway that way in the wind. They have to, otherwise they'd snap. It's only because we're up so high that it's obvious."

Althea didn't even want to think about that. Trembling, she burrowed closer.

"Where are you going?" she cried in alarm a moment later when he gently but firmly pried her arms loose from around his middle.

"Take it easy, sweetheart. I'm just going to try to get us some light. As I recall, there's a bowl full of matches on one of the end tables in here."

"Yes! And a candle too," Althea cried excitedly. "Right in the middle of that silk flower arrangement!"

"Hey, that's right! Come on, let's find them." Taking a firm grip on her hand, Ward began pulling her along behind him.

It was as dark as the bottom of a coal mine. The reception room was centrally located and all the offices around it and those opening into the hall that stretched out on either side were closed. They inched along carefully, sweeping their hands out in front of them, testing for any possible obstacle.

Suddenly there was the sickening thunk of tissue and bone striking a hard object, followed immediately by Ward's furious "Dammit to hell!"

"What is it? What's wrong?" Althea cried anxiously.

"I just found the table," Ward gritted. "The hard way."

There was a series of soft thumps as his hands made a patting search over the top of the table. "Eureka! I think I found them." The rattle of match folders in the crystal dish was quickly followed by a scraping sound. The acrid smell of sulfur reached Althea's nose as the match flared.

In the pool of flickering light she spied the floral arrangement, and her face brightened. "Here's our candle," Althea announced, eagerly lifting the waxy cylinder free of the silk flowers and placing it in a glass ashtray. She didn't think she had ever seen a more welcome sight. The thing was fourteen or fifteen inches high and as big around as her arm. It would probably burn for hours.

A few moments later, however, when they were standing in the soft glow of the single candle, Althea's elation began to fade as the seriousness of their predicament began to sink in. At least until morning, they were stuck here on the fortieth floor of a building that was swaying like a reed in the breeze. And they were alone. Every ounce of common sense she possessed told her that it was sheer folly even to consider spending the night here with Ward. Not even her fear of the storm raging outside could completely blank out her awareness of him. But you really have no choice, she told herself bracingly, trying to subdue the excited flutter in her stomach. It would be suicide to go out in that hurricane.

"Well," Ward announced briskly, making Althea jump, "since we're going to be here for a while, I guess the first order of business is to locate something to eat. Do you have any idea who around here has the keys to the vending machines in the employees' lunchroom?"

"Keys?"

"Yes, keys. Those machines won't operate without electricity."

"Oh." Althea's mind groped desperately for the answer, but she was so nervous she could barely think. Never in her wildest imaginings had she thought to find herself in a situation like this. "I, uh . . . I suppose Ned Freeman, in Purchasing, would have them. He orders all the office supplies."

"That's twenty-three floors down." Ward sighed heavily. "Well, I suppose I'll just have to break into them," he said, shrugging out of his coat and tossing it over one of the chairs. His tie quickly followed; then he unbuttoned his shirt halfway and rolled up the sleeves.

Althea felt her pulse flutter as she stared at his powerful forearms and the dark cloud of chest hair revealed by the open shirt. Unnerved by the sight and by his casual acceptance of their situation, she jerked her gaze away and pretended indifference.

Her pretense dissolved, though, when he reached for the candle and announced, "I'll take this and go see what I can scrounge. Why don't you curl up on the couch and relax until I get back."

"Oh, no you don't! You're not going to leave me here alone in the dark. I'm going with you."

For a moment Ward looked as though he were about to argue, but as he studied her taut, pale face, his own softened. "All right. Grab one of those file baskets off the desk. We'll use it to carry our plunder."

"Why can't we just eat down there? It's a perfectly nice dining room."

"It also has a wall of windows. They're supposed to be hurricane-proof, but I have no intention of putting them to the test."

The employee lunchroom was five floors below them. As they carefully crept down the stairs, Ward held the huge candle in one palm while cupping the other protectively around the flame. Afraid of losing contact, Althea curled her fingers around his belt at the back of his waist and held on for dear life. She had never before realized how dark and eerie these enclosed stairwells were. The clang of their footsteps on the metal stairs echoed all around them. Alternately flaring and flickering, the candle flame cast grotesque wavering shadows on the concrete-block walls. But at least, she told herself bracingly as they reached what seemed like the tenth landing, in here she could no longer hear the keening moan of the wind.

When they reached the thirty-fifth floor Ward searched the janitor's closet for something he could use to jimmy the vending-machine locks, coming up with a chisel and a hammer. Using the chisel as a lever, he inserted it in the crack between the door and the body of the machine and gave the end a good whack. "Hey! Success!" Ward cheered as the door popped open.

By the time they had broken into three machines they had a basket full of assorted food, cartons of milk and cans of soft drinks.

Sure that she was too nervous to eat a bite, Althea was surprised to find that she was ravenous by the time they had climbed the five flights of stairs back to the executive floor. After kicking off her shoes, she sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the low table that held their only source of light, the full skirt of her aqua print dress spread out around her, and greedily consumed a chicken-salad sandwich, a bag of potato chips and two cartons of milk.