Night Moves (24 page)

Her mind began to move in circles...Hammarfield...the Sweet Dreams motel...pictures...politics...Adam!

Barbara jabbed her with a toe beneath the table. "Stop staring, Bryn!" she commanded. "We'll look suspicious."

Bryn looked at her friend, and new thoughts filled her mind. That afternoon she and Lee had returned from his house to her town house so that she could choose something dressy for the night. When Bryn and Lee had left on Friday, Andrew had suggested that he stay there--to keep an eye on things. Bryn hadn't thought much about it. Not until she had gone there today and discovered Barbara's things--as well as Andrew's-- all over her bedroom.

She had never realized that anything was going on between the two. Not that she had realized much of anything since

Adam had been taken. She had been a little shocked. Not shocked, surprised.And then worried. But Barbara and Andrew were both adults, and as much as Bryn cared for Barbara, she had no right to question her friend's affairs.

We're both going to get hurt, though, she thought sadly.Walloped.

"Well, what do you think?" Barbara murmured, nudging her. They were alone at their table, since Lee and Andrew had eaten quickly,then hurried backstage to check on some last-minute wiring details.

"I think that half the national debt could have been paid with the cost of this dinner," Bryn whispered back.

Barbara laughed nervously. "I mean, whatdo you think of our would-be congressman?''

Bryn shrugged. Dirk Hammarfield had just finished speaking to the assembled group. "I think Lee and Andrew were only pretending to have something to do to escape the 'thankyous.'"

Barbara lowered her voice even further. "I mean, do you think that he's the whisperer?"

The chills that were never fully quenched started to flutter within Bryn. Could he be the whisperer?

Could he be the man who was holding Adam this very minute?

He didn't look it. He just didn't look the part.

"I don't know," she told Barbara truthfully. "But for some reason, I just can't believe it. He's too pleasant and too married!"

"The 'too married' men are the ones you have to watch out for!" Barbara warned.

Bryn raised a cryptic brow to her friend, and allowedherself to muse curiously on Barbara's appearance.

She had never seen Barb look better. Her dress was simple and sleek, made of beige silk, and her short
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blond hair swung freely about her features. Bryn decided that the reason Barbara looked so spectacular was the glow about her face and the diamond sparkle of her eyes. "Let's not talk about it," Bryn murmured. "I'm nervous enough already."

"What do you want to talk about?"

Bryn shrugged. Not Hammarfield. Not Adam. "I'd like to know about you--and Andrew."

Barbara smiled without a blush or a pause. "I think he's wonderful. He's sensitive and caring, not afraid to have fun, and irresistibly sexy. And considering his position in life, he's admirably unaffected. I've met a lot of so-called stars. All of these guys are unique. They're grounded in reality."

Bryn played with the swizzle stick in her half-consumed gin and tonic. "What I mean is, what do you think will come of it?"

Barbara laughed. "We haven't been seeing each other all that long, you know."

"I know, but if you like someone that well..."

"Then you walk the road and see where it leads."

"Aren't you ever afraid?"

"Bryn, you care very much about Lee, don't you?"

"I--I don't know. That's a lie. Yes, I care about him," Bryn admitted softly. "But there's so much about him, about his past. So many things I'm afraid of, so many things that I don't understand."

Barbara was about to reply, but she halted as their attention was drawn to the stage. Hammarfield managed to introduce the band quickly; there was wild applause, and then the curtains parted to reveal Lee and the group. They started playing with a loud crash of the drums; Lee began to sing a rock number from their first album.

Bryn, as always, felt his voice sweep around her and embrace her.Like him, it was rugged and masculine, a burnished, rough velvet. The group had worn tuxedos tonight, with ruffled white shirts.

Bryn had never seen Lee in such formal attire before, and she felt a warm flush rush over her now just as it had when she had first seen him dress that evening. The elegant white shirt enhanced his dark good looks, contrasting sharply with the rugged angles and planes of his features.

I will never be able to stop wanting him, she admitted ruefully to herself. I allowed myself to fall, and now I will never be able to escape....

Barbara turned back to her, touching her shoulder and leaning closer so that she could be heard. "I hate to sound like a philosopher," Barbara said dryly, "but some sayings are true. Nothing good in life comes easy." "The video will be done soon."

"And you're thinking that he'll be gone as smoothly as he came? I can't tell you that that won't happen, Bryn. I can tell you that it's obvious he's entirely taken with you."

Bryn grimaced. "Maybe just because... because he feels responsible for everything that's happened. I
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mean--" she lowered her voice to a hushed whisper again "--all this started with the pictures that I took of him."

Barbara sniffed. "I don't think you know your man very well, honey. If he felt responsible, he'd be responsible. But if he didn't want to be with you, he wouldn't be. And any fool could see the sexual attraction between the two of you from the beginning."

"Umm," Bryn murmured dryly. She was about to retort to Barbara's bluntness when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around to see Dirk Hammarfield staring down at her with his perpetual smile.

"Enjoying the evening, ladies?"

Bryn felt the chill again. How long had he been there? Was this benignly smiling man the same one who had made a living hell out of her life?

She wanted to shout at him, she wanted to scream,Where is Adam? Where is my nephew now? If I don't get him back tomorrow, if he's been harmed the least little bit I'll...

What? What? She was the one completely at someone's mercy. What was she doing here? What could she possibly find out?

"It's lovely, thankyou," Bryn heard herself say. Then she started babbling. "The roast duck was absolutely delicious.And that salad dressing!Out of this world."

"The artichoke hearts were wonderful," Barbara added. They glanced at each other. Did being nervous instantly turn one into a blithering idiot, incapable of normal speech?

"Glad to hear the food was good," Hammarfield replied. Was his smile really benign? Or did it have a malicious twist? "Seems," Hammarfield continued, indicating the stage, "that Condor has chosen a nice soft ballad just for me. Would you share a dance with me, Miss Keller?"

No!she wanted to scream.

She gave him her hand and a smile as plastic as his own. "I'd love to, Mr. Hammarfield."

Dirk Hammarfield glanced at Barbara. "If you don't mind...?"

"Not at all," Barbara said quickly.

Bryn felt uncomfortable as soon as they reached the dance floor. Dirk Hammarfield believed in dancing cheek to cheek and body to body. Bryn tried to move away from him, but without making a scene she wasn't going to achieve much. Damn Lee! She was going to have to tell him to play fast tunes all night.

She managed to pull her face far enough away from Dirk's shoulder to talk. "So, Mr. Hammarfield, how's the campaigning going?"

"Good. Great!" he told her boisterously. His hand slipped to the small of Bryn's back, then to her rear as he made a sudden swing with his body.

Bryn realized that they were right in front of the stage. She gazed up to see that although Lee's voice
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hadn't faltered, nor had he missed a beat on his drums, he was staring at her. And she knew that particular glimmer in his eyes.Anger. Was he thundering particularly hard on the drums? She wanted to hit him. What did he think? That she liked being pawed by the politician? It had been his idea that she come here.

"How did your pictures come out, Miss Keller?"

Bryn's heart skipped a beat. "I really don't know," she lied. "I gave Lee the film and the proofs right after they were taken."

She felt as if her knees would give way, but she kept her eyes on his, determined to see if he would react at all to the lie.

"What a pity. I would have loved to have seen them." No reaction; his eyes stayed steadily on hers. His hand was slipping lower and lower. He was almost caressing her.

She ground her teeth, grabbed his hand and smiled. She couldn't stand it anymore. He could very well be a kidnapper.... He could be holding Adam right now...and he had the audacity to be touching her like a lover. She would startscreaming, or faint or get sick. It would have to end. She wasn't getting anywhere anyway.

"Where is your wife, Mr. Hammarfield?" she asked. "I haven't had the pleasure of meeting her yet."

Hammarfield paled visibly. He opened his mouth, about to reply, but then he turned abruptly. Bryn realized he had been tapped on the shoulder.

"May I cut in on you, sir? I suppose it's a rude thing to do to the man of the hour, but I'm afraid I might never get another chance to dance with the lady."

"Of course, of course!"Hammarfield patted the newcomer on the back, and Bryn grinned broadly. She had been saved from minor-molestation-on-the-dance-floor and possible illness by the young golfer, Mike Winfeld. He was wholesome and attractive with his out-of-doors appeal, and Bryn was definitely grateful to see him.

"May I?" he asked her.

"Of course!" she murmured. It was really a gasp of relief. This whole thing had been a mistake.

He clasped her to him and quickly danced them across the floor. "I didn't think I'd get a chance to see you so soon," he said reproachfully.

"I really have been busy!" Bryn said.

"Photographing the famous?"

"Dancing for Lee's video.I'm a dancer, too," Bryn said.

"You bet you are," he told her approvingly.

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"How's your game going?" Bryn asked him.

"Oh, great.Every once in a while you hit a sand trap, but there's usually a way out of it. When can you do my photos?"

"I really don't know yet," Bryn said apologetically. "I'm still working for Lee."

"Oh," he told her sadly, spinning around again. Bryn decided that she was glad that she was a dancer.

Only a professional dancer could hope to keep up with his dips and turns.

Then she found herself being clasped as tightly to him as she had been to Hammarfield. And golfers--as well as politicians--had roving hands. The problem with Winfeld was that he was sofast, she couldn't move quickly enough to escape his roaming fingers....

Lee was glad that playing music was like breathing to him. His mind was wandering. No, damn it! It wasn't wandering. It was set on Bryn.

It was miserable to watch her with Hammarfield and with the golfer. She was dressed in a thin-strapped, black silk dress that was belted at the waist. The silk clung gracefully to her curves, and when she danced... when she moved... she was fluid and lithe and beautiful.

And as enticing as a rose in full bloom.

He shouldn't be watching her, he thought. Drumming was like breathing, but the drums wouldn't play themselves.And although he had sung this song a thousand times, at this rate...

He couldn't look away from her. And he couldn't stop his anger from rising and sky rocketing. She was laughing as she talked to the golfer. Laughing...and her eyes were sparkling with a beautiful radiance.

You don't own her, he warned himself sharply.

But he felt as if he did, in a way.Because he was completely entranced with her. She was naked magic in his arms at night, sleek and satin passion.To see another man touching her...that way....

It made him feel like being savage, all right.

His biceps strained and bulged beneath the white ruffled shirt; he sang the last words of the song, and rolled out a fading beat.

He barely heard the applause. He had been stupid to do the dinner. Nothing was going to be achieved tonight.

What had he expected?

Something...something to happen.

But nothing had.Except that his temper had been stretched to the snapping point.

"Hammarfield is interested in the pictures," Bryn said as Lee revved the engine of his car. It was late; only the cleanup crews still remained. And Lee had been distantly silent since she had met him on the stage when the band had been breaking down their equipment.

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Lee kept his eyes on the road and replied with a low grunt.

"Are you listening to me, Lee? Hammarfield asked me about the pictures."

"I heard you. What else did he ask you about?"

"What?" Bryn murmured,confused by the hostility that lay beneath the question.

He glanced her way briefly, a quick gaze of yellow fire, before turning his attention to the road once again. "I asked you what else he talked about."

Bryn shrugged, still not understanding the brooding emotion simmering within him, but findingherself on the defensive anyway. "I don't remember."

"I see. It's hard to listen very closely when you're dancing that close."

"Dancing that close!It wasn't my idea!"

"Umm.You never thought about pushing the man away, I assume."

"I did!"

"That's funny. I never found you ineffective at repulsing a man when you chose to do so.And what about that jock golfer?"

"Mike Winfeld?"

"Is that his name?"

Bryn felt her anger rise to meet his. "Look, Lee, I don't know what your problem is tonight, but I'm not going to sit here and take this from you. It was your idea to play for this dinner, and your idea that Barbara and I come along. You insisted that I might get something out of Hammarfield. You--" She bit off her words, determined not to fly into a name-calling fit. But she was furious. The night had been incredibly tense to begin with, and now he was suddenly coming down on her for things that had been his fault. "You bastard!" she grated out against her best intentions. "How do you think I felt? The man might be still holding Adam. I didn't want to be anywherenear him!"