New Way to Fly (15 page)

“I can't,” Brock said calmly. “Not as long as I live. But if that's what you want, Amanda, I won't mention it again, and it won't happen again unless you say so. I promise.”

She nodded, looking down at the floor while he gazed at her dark glossy head.

“Would you like some coffee?” he asked after a moment's awkward silence.

She shook her head. “I just had some at Mary's. I have to get home,” she added. “Edward will be waiting for me. We're going out to dinner.”

“That's the New York boyfriend?” Brock asked, keeping his voice casual and turning away to hide the pain in his eyes.

“Yes. He's been here almost a week.”

Brock gave her another intent glance. “I see. Well, I'd ask how you two are getting along, but it's none of my business, right?”

Amanda nodded uncertainly and moved with halting steps back into the kitchen, taking her cape from the chair and allowing Brock to help her put it on.

“Amanda,” he said, pausing with his hands on her shoulders.

“Yes?”

“I meant what I said. Nothing like this will happen again unless you want it to. Do you believe me?”

She looked up at him, searching his face with eyes so blue and deep that Brock found himself in real danger of drowning. “Yes,” she said finally, her voice grave and quiet. “Yes, Brock, I believe you.”

“Good,” he said, lifting his hands from her shoulders and trying to sound hearty. “In that case, do you think you could drop by again sometime soon, just to help me with the house? I told you before,
Amanda, I really value your opinion, and I know you're interested in this kind of thing. We could work on it together as friends, no pressure of any kind. What about it?”

She paused and glanced wistfully around the littered old kitchen. “I'd like that,” she said finally. “I'd really like that.”

“That's great,” Brock said briskly. “How about tomorrow?”

Amanda recoiled and moved nervously away. “Oh, no, not tomorrow,” she whispered. “Tomorrow Edward and I are planning to…he's helping me with some inventory problems. I'm sorry, but I…”

“That's all right. Whenever you have the time, Amanda. I'm always here. Alvin, quit licking her shoes, you monster! She doesn't like you
that
much.”

Amanda laughed, clearly relieved at the change of subject. “Alvin's a darling,” she said, bending to caress the besotted little dog, who promptly rolled over again to present his abdomen.

Amanda patted him a few more times, then straightened, murmured something inaudible to Brock and hurried out to her car. Brock watched her running across his yard, a slim flash of pale green in the rain-washed landscape.

Long after her car disappeared from view, he stood in the kitchen doorway and gazed out into the flowing silver light, his face bleak with loneliness.

“I
SUPPOSE
you're going to be
far
too full for dessert,” Edward said with an ironic grin, softening his words by reaching over to clasp Amanda's hand on the table.

“Yes, I probably am,” Amanda said listlessly, causing her dinner companion to glance at her in surprise. “I wish I weren't,” she added with a small faraway smile, freeing her hand and reaching for her wineglass. “This place serves the most wonderful chocolate cake.”

She sipped her wine, unaware of Edward's concerned expression. Suddenly she was consumed by memories of Brock Munroe, of their dinner at this same restaurant, of his teasing conversation and his tanned quiet face in the candlelight.

And in spite of herself she remembered the way he'd kissed her just a few hours ago, an experience so shattering, so overpowering that she still quivered whenever she thought of his arms around her and his lips on hers.

Troubled and silent, Amanda picked at the remainder of her lobster and moved a piece of baked potato around on her plate.

What kind of woman was she, to be so completely absorbed with thoughts of one man while she was out with another? And far, far worse…what kind of woman would let a virtual stranger kiss her with that kind of passion on the very day she planned to invite another man into her bed?

The whole thing was just some bizarre physical attraction, Amanda told herself firmly. She and Brock Munroe were such total opposites that he fascinated her in a sort of dark subliminal way, and her only sane course of action was to avoid him altogether.

She certainly wasn't the first woman to have been confused by a pair of shoulders, by some man's finely molded lips and strong brown hands. But Amanda Walker was far too smart to let that kind of wayward sexual attraction spoil her whole life.

Amanda knew where she belonged. She knew what kind of life made her happy, and what kind of man she needed to be with, and she wasn't about to make any disastrous mistakes.

“Edward,” she said abruptly, setting her fork down and gazing at the man across the table, “I've been thinking about…about us, and all the things you're offering me.”

“Yes?” he said, his aquiline face suddenly cautious, his eyes guarded.

“And I think I've been acting a little silly since you got here, holding you at arm's length the way I have. Don't you?”

“I certainly do, Angel,” he said, relaxing and raising his glass to her in a silent toast. “I most certainly do.”

“Well, good,” Amanda went on recklessly. “Actually, you know, I was thinking that tonight we should—”

“Anything else?” the waiter asked, materializing suddenly beside their table and stacking plates on his tray with silent efficiency.

Edward leaned back and gave the young man an expansive grin, the muted overhead light glinting on his well-barbered auburn head.

“Wal, Ah think we jest may be celebratin' somethin' heah,” he said in a deliberate imitation of the waiter's warm Texas drawl. “Do y'all think y'all could brang us anothah bottle of thet wine?”

The young man stared down at him in silence for a long uncomfortable moment, then gave a brief clipped nod and disappeared with his tray full of used plates.

“Angel, why did he look so disapproving?” Edward asked, genuinely hurt. “I thought my accent was impeccable.”

Amanda looked at him in amazement, overwhelmed by his thoughtless arrogance. “He knew you were making fun of him, Edward,” she said coldly. “Besides,” she added after a moment's awkward silence, “You used ‘y'all' incorrectly.”

“You mean there are grammatical rules?” Edward said with heavy irony, raising an elegant eyebrow. “Oh, do please enlighten me.”

“It's plural,” Amanda said firmly, ignoring his sarcastic tone. “‘Y'all' refers to more than one person. For instance, if you meet a group of people you can say, ‘How are y'all doing?' But you can't say it to just one person.”

“I see.” Edward paused, clearly on the verge of another jocular remark, but thought better of it when he saw Amanda's expression. “Sorry, Angel,” he said contritely. “Correction accepted. I won't make the same mistake again, I promise. And I'll leave him a nice big tip to make up for my ignorance.”

Amanda was silent, watching as the waiter delivered and uncorked their second bottle of wine.

“Apology accepted?” Edward prompted when they were alone, pouring the sparkling liquid into her tall crystal goblet.

“Yes, Edward,” Amanda murmured. “And I'm sorry for being so sensitive. I didn't mean to jump on you.”

“Sweetheart, you can jump on me any time you
like,” Edward told her with a warm significant smile. “In fact, you were saying…?”

Amanda looked at him, feeling strangely shy and awkward, wondering what to say. She still felt a sharp irritation with Edward because of his gaffe with the waiter.

But more than anything, Amanda also yearned for an end to the confusion in her mind, a return to a safe and comfortable world where events moved in predictable fashion from one point to the next.

For Amanda that world was with Edward, and always had been.

She swallowed hard and tried to smile at him. “I thought you might move your things over to my place tonight,” she said softly. “I feel so lonely there, Edward.”

“It's lonely in my hotel room, too, Angel. But I won't be coming tonight,” he added, sipping casually at his wine.

“Why not?” Amanda gazed at him, stunned by this unexpected rejection.

Edward grinned and reached in his pocket for an envelope. “We're going to Dallas tonight, Angel,” he told her. “Staying at the new convention center, attending the Southern Retailers' fall fashion show tomorrow. I have front row seats for both of us.”

Amanda shook her head in confusion. “
Both
of
us? At the Southern Retailers' show? Edward, those tickets have been sold out for months.”

“Not if one knows the right people,” Edward told her calmly. “I would have told you earlier, but I just confirmed the tickets this afternoon. And we're taking a local commuter flight that leaves at ten o'clock, so let's hurry home and pack your overnight bag, Angel. By the way,” he added with a wolfish grin, “I hope you still have the pink silk negligee. That was always my personal favorite.”

“But, Edward…I can't go to Dallas tonight.”

“Why not? You told me you had a free day tomorrow, didn't you? It's going to be fabulous, Angel. There's a dealers' preshowing tomorrow afternoon, then cocktails and dinner and the first of the designers later in the evening.”

“I know, but…” Amanda paused, biting her lip nervously. “Edward, the show is three days long. And I have a really heavy day on Thursday. I have to prepare for it tomorrow night. In fact, I'd have to come back right after the dealer showing.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Edward said calmly, handing his credit card to the waiter without taking his eyes from Amanda's face. “You have to come and be available for all three days. This is an amazing opportunity, my dear. Contacts made at this show could be very, very valuable for us.”

“Edward, I have four appointments on Thursday.
Two of them are brand-new clients, both referred by friends. I have to—”

“Amanda, my sweet, aren't you forgetting something?” he murmured gently, reaching over and clasping her hand in both of his.

“What? What am I forgetting?”

“You just indicated that you've come to a decision about us, Angel. I gather you want to build a future with me. That means coming back to work with me in New York, and
that
means the end of this little business venture of yours. Doesn't it?”

Amanda was silent, gazing at the handsome man across the table in tense silence.

“I have no doubt it's been a valuable experience for you, and I truly have immense admiration for what you've managed to achieve,” Edward told her with evident sincerity. “But your talents are needed elsewhere, darling. Just leave a sign on your office door canceling those appointments, or make a few calls from Dallas if you prefer the personal touch. But don't miss this opportunity.”

Amanda shook her head. “I can't, Edward. It's my business. I can't just run off and dump clients like that.”

“So what do you propose to do?” he asked mildly. “Continue servicing these clients of yours from a New York office after you move?”

“I just…I need a little more time,” Amanda said.
“If I'm going to close my business, I need time to do it properly.”

“How much time?”

“I don't know the answer to that just yet,” Amanda said. “But certainly more than a few hours.”

“All right,” he said cheerfully. They were silent while Edward escorted her from the restaurant, helped her with her coat, handed her courteously into the rental car he was using.

“Are you angry with me?” Amanda ventured, glancing over at his fine profile as he drove.

“Angry? Of course not. Just disappointed, Angel. And very,
very
sorry we couldn't get together tonight. It's been a long time, you know,” Edward said with a brief smile. “Far too long.”

Amanda nodded miserably. “I know.”

She gazed out the window, brooding over how well Edward was apparently dealing with his disappointment.

There was no way you could really hurt Edward, she told herself. No matter what you said or did to him, he always seemed to walk away unscathed and cheerful, absorbed in his next project, barely aware of what you'd done.

Amanda suddenly found herself wondering if she really had been the primary reason for Edward's visit to Texas, or if he'd been planning all along to attend
the Dallas show and she was just conveniently nearby.

But when he stopped in front of her apartment and turned to her with a meaningful smile, there was no doubting the sincerity in his gaze, or the naked sexual yearning when he touched her cheek and bent to kiss her. “God, my Angel,” he muttered huskily. “Dear God, you're so lovely.”

Amanda shivered and drew away, feeling a sudden and irrational reluctance to have him kiss her. “Let's not start something we don't have time to finish, Edward,” she said lightly. “You have to hurry or you'll miss your flight.”

Hurt and surprise flickered briefly in his eyes but his voice was calm when he answered. “You're right, my love. I'll call you later, shall I?”

“I'll be looking forward to it,” Amanda said. “You can tell me all about the new lines,” she added wistfully. “I really wish I were going with you, Edward. You know I do. It's just that…”

He nodded, cutting off her halting explanation, and got out to walk her into the lobby, then kissed her casually on the cheek and hurried back to his car.

Amanda stood by the paneled front doors watching him drive away, waving sadly into the darkness like an abandoned child. Finally she entered the elevator and got off listlessly at her floor, fitting the key into the lock and letting herself into an apartment that
seemed unbearably lonely and cold in its stark graceful symmetry.

She walked across the kitchen and paused, looking around unhappily, torn by a host of conflicting emotions. With sudden painful intensity Amanda contrasted her home with the cluttered warmth of Brock's.

She stood gazing fixedly at the telephone, thinking about the empty day that stretched ahead of her tomorrow. Finally she crossed the room, flipped through the telephone book and dialed his number, then stood waiting tensely as the phone rang, fighting herself to keep from hanging up.

She heard Brock's warm deep voice, almost drowned out by a noisy storm of barking.

“My goodness,” Amanda said, laughing, feeling better almost immediately. “Is that Alvin? What on earth is wrong with him?”

“He was hiding in the broom closet, eating my baseball glove. I just caught him and took it away.”

“Do you play baseball?” Amanda said, her heart still singing with a kind of absurd happiness that she couldn't begin to understand.

“Just about the best third-base man in the Claro County men's fastball league.”

“I see. That's very impressive,” Amanda said solemnly.

“Don't make fun, girl. That's a very tough league.”

“I'm sure it is. Brock…”

“Yeah?”

“I seem to have a free day tomorrow, after all, and I don't really feel like staying in the city. Do you think it would be all right if I came out and looked around your house a little more?”

“All
right?
” he asked in disbelief. “That'd be great, Amanda. Just wonderful.”

“Good,” she said shyly, touched by the unmistakable happiness in his voice. “I'd like to bring some drafting paper and do some sketches, floor plans of kitchen arrangements, that sort of thing, if you don't mind?”