Slow Burn (15 page)

“I will be.”

“Then tell me, what are you up to now?”

“Nothing! Honestly. In fact, I'm going up to the folks' place for the weekend.”

“Yeah?” He arched a brow.

She nodded.

“Sly know?”

“I just decided.”

“How come?”

“I don't know. I just need to get away.”

“It may be a good idea, but…Newport? A weekend in the Bahamas might be nice.”

“I don't think I'm ready for—for a weekend in the Bahamas.”

“Yeah,” he said wryly. “You're still into suffering! Parents can make you suffer all right!”

“Jared!” she protested. But was he right?

“Just kidding. Well, all right, I'm not really kidding, but you know what I mean. Personally, I think a weekend in the Bahamas would be good for you. But then again, your mom and dad will be glad to see you. But you know, Cecily and I miss having you around, too. The kids are nuts about you, Spencer. And we haven't seen a whole lot of you since…” His voice trailed off, and he shrugged. “Since Danny died.”

“Yeah, I know. I'll make it up to them.”

“That's not what I mean. You don't need to make anything up to anyone, we just…miss you. Dad asks about you all the time. He wants the kids to come over and do some fishing sometime soon. Can I count you in?”

She wanted to tell him that she wasn't fit company for anyone, but then she decided that maybe it was time for her to make an effort, to start becoming fit company again. “Yeah, sure.”

“By the way, how's David?”

“What?” Absurd. Her heart was pounding furiously at the mere question, as if she was guilty of something.

“David Delgado. Cecily puts his name on just about every invitation she sends out. Reva's kids play ball at the same park as mine, but we don't seem to catch David too often. Remember what a tough kid he was?”

Was he taunting her? Or just being nostalgic? Spencer wasn't sure.

“He seems to be…fine,” she said.

“It's nice to have him around again. Seems like old times. Except that now—”

Now Danny was gone. The words were left unsaid between them.

“Well, I haven't really seen him. Sly has him around, so it seems.”

He shrugged. “Well, I'll let you go. Give my aunt and uncle a kiss for me. Wait, give my aunt a kiss and my uncle a handshake. I'll be holding the fort—along with Grandfather Atlas in there—till you get back.”

“Thanks. Tell Cecily I'm sorry. I'll be better company when I get back. Promise.”

He gave her a thumbs-up sign and left her office. She glanced at her watch. She was going to have to hurry to make the airport.

But she couldn't leave without telling Sly what she was up to. She walked into his office. He was on the phone, so she sat on the edge of his desk to wait. He flashed her a smile and she smiled back. Sly didn't look a day over sixty, and a debonair sixty, at that. She slid off his desk and kissed his cheek. He slipped his hand over the receiver. “What's that for?” he asked.

She could hear someone still talking on the other end. “I'm out of here. Off for the weekend. I'm restless and my projects are in limbo. I'd have you feed my cat, except that I haven't got one.”

He looked alarmed. Old for minute. “Where are you going?”

“Newport.”

“You want to go to Newport
now?
” he demanded.

“Sly, I know you've got David following me, and it isn't necessary—”

“It was necessary in that graveyard.”

“I'm going to be with Mom and Dad. What could happen—except that I could expire from being suffocated with affection, or drown in mineral water!”

She strode for the door, waving to him. “Love you. I'm going to miss my plane.”

“What plane—” he began, but she closed the door as if she hadn't heard him. She was, after all, a big girl. Well over the age of twenty-one.

It wasn't until the plane was taking off that she began to ask herself just why the hell she was going to Newport. She loved her parents, but spending any amount of time with them could be torture.

Her mother had come along a bit in the past few years. And after all, she couldn't help her upbringing. Sly Montgomery had worked for the fortune he had amassed, the fortune that had sent her father to the best schools—and put him in a position to meet her mother.

Her mother's family had had money for so long that no one was quite sure anymore where it had come from, other than land speculation. Her mother was a member of the Daughters of the American Revolution, and a proud one, at that. She still considered the Irish who had come to Boston a hundred years ago to be newcomers.

And the Spanish-speaking Latin Americans in South Florida remained “aliens” to her, even those who had been born in America.

Spencer sighed, sitting back. The flight attendant came by, offering champagne before takeoff. Spencer smiled and accepted a glass. It was good, but she needed to go slow. She was going to rent a car in Boston for the trip out to Newport.

She closed her eyes and felt a wave of heat sweeping over her. She couldn't seem to stop torturing herself.

She'd made love with David Delgado. Just thinking about it made her palms damp, her breathing ragged. She could remember each little intimate detail with shocking clarity. She could even remember the musky scent of him, the feel of him. And there was nothing in the world like it. Nothing so fast, so hot, so passionate. So intense. So damned alive and vital. In that way, things had changed so little between them that it was terrifying. Even after that last time, the day after he had been arrested…

She would never forget what had happened. The nightmare of it. Her mother had promised to square things with David when Spencer had agreed to go to the dance with Brad.

Damn, but she'd hated Brad. Right from the start. He was above everyone in creation, an ace polo player, golfer, yachtsman—according to him. His father was a newspaper mogul, and his mother was a member of the D.A.R. he had already been given the deeds to three of the family homes. His future was assured, whether he cared to work or not.

Her folks had pleaded with her to be nice to him—she hadn't realized that they had been certain she would fall for the “right” type of boy if she was just exposed to him for a while. At the dance, for the first time, he'd shown a little humility, admitting that he bragged so much because he was afraid of not being able to live up to all that was expected of him.

She'd never meant to kiss him. And it had been such a pathetic kiss, too, lacking everything David's lips had ever offered. Brad's kiss had almost made her ill, especially when she compared it to the absolute passion that resulted from David's touch.

When she got home, her mother didn't say a word about David. Apparently, he hadn't even come by after he got off work, and he had promised he would.

In retrospect, she realized that she should have known what was going on. Her mother had been especially down on anyone with the least hint of Hispanic blood ever since the Mariel boat lift. There had been such a hue and cry over it, some people shouting about human rights and others absolutely furious because Castro had managed to empty his prisons into South Florida. The old-time Hispanics were often as angry as the Anglo population. Crime had soared afterward. Spencer had tried very hard to explain to her mother that she couldn't blame all Cubans for the actions of the criminal few. Even her father had read the papers and been able to see reason. But not her mother. She should have realized that her mother would have done just about anything to destroy her relationship with David.

But she'd been young. Naive. And hurt that David hadn't come by.

So she'd had hot chocolate with Brad and played a game of Monopoly. He'd been decent that night, and she'd wound up laughing.

Then she'd heard a commotion below and looked out just in time to see David being dragged away by the police. And no protests on her part had meant anything.

Not to her parents. But David should have known.

Then she'd found out that David had been watching her at the dance, deciding without giving her a chance to explain what had happened. She could remember how furious she had been when she found out. She could also remember the way he had held her, the way he had behaved, the rock-hard fury that had been both terrifying and exciting….

Until the end. Until he had called her a whore and all but thrown her out of the way, then walked out. Out of his own house—and her life.

Poor Reva. She had come home just as David slammed out. And Spencer had been so upset that she called David every single derogatory name she could call to mind. Refugee. Spic. Greaser. Reva had been ashen faced, and Spencer had been sorry. So sorry. But she hadn't been able to say so, because her heart had been breaking.

So she'd run away…. To Newport, she thought wryly.

Wonderful, she considered a little hysterically. It seemed like every time she had sex with David Delgado she could only stand herself if she ran away afterward. Every time…

No! There could be no more times! Because this time it had been in Danny's bed, reminding her that she had married Danny knowing she would never want him the way she had wanted David. The way she still wanted him. Oh, God, she had to stop. She'd loved Danny. Maybe it had been different from the way she'd felt for David, but Danny had never known how she had felt. She had been a good wife to him, and their life had been good….

Just different.

Life was just so damned strange. She'd run away all those years ago because she'd been so sure she was right. He hadn't given her a chance to explain. Maybe she didn't have a good explanation for the kiss, but he should at least have listened to her. Instead, he'd actually accused her of worse, of making love to Brad.

David had meant everything in the world to her. She'd learned to see through his eyes, to think through his mind. She'd even acquired a taste for Cuban coffee and
arroz con pollo.

She'd thought he would follow her. That he would beg her forgiveness.

But he hadn't followed her. And after a while she had realized just what he must have felt like, being dragged out of her yard and thrown into jail. He wasn't coming for her. She'd humiliated him, and he hated her. He'd preferred to join the army. Boot camp had looked better than meeting up with her again anytime soon.

Danny had shown up in Rhode Island that summer. A friend. Just there to be with her. They'd never discussed David. And they hadn't gotten involved then, either. They'd both been taught that college was essential, so they'd gone their separate ways. Then Spencer spent time touring Europe with some friends from her graduating class. After that, she'd gone home and started working for Sly. She'd been home for a few years, working, beaching it, spending a few nights at the clubs, when she had run into Danny again and realized just how much he loved her. She realized, too, that he was right for her. Life should have been perfect for them.

Then David had become his partner….

Her head hurt. She'd drunk the champagne too quickly. She pressed her thumb and forefinger to her temple, trying to ease the pain away.

Someone slid into the seat beside her, and she sighed. She had hoped to have her side of the aisle to herself for the trip.

Selfish! she taunted herself. You can't hog a whole plane just because you're having personal problems.

She opened her eyes, determined to be remote but polite to her seatmate.

But when she opened her eyes, her hello froze on her lips and she just stared.

It was impossible.

David was sitting next to her. Watching her. Waiting for her reaction.

She groaned and closed her eyes again. When she reopened them, he hadn't gone away. This time, it seemed, he was willing to follow her.

After all, Sly had paid him.

“You charged my grandfather for first class?” she demanded, outraged.

“Damn right,” he told her with a grim smile.

The stewardess offered him champagne, along with a dazzling smile. He accepted the drink, returning the smile. His deep blue eyes flashed, and a single, small dimple showed in his left cheek. Spencer ached inside to see it. She wanted to hit him. She wanted to scream. She wanted to run away.

Damn it, she had
tried
to run away!

But though she needed it desperately, that luxury was being denied her.

She'd met up with the demon of her past once again, and it seemed they were plunging into hell together.

“I'm going to my mother's house, you know.”

“So I was told.”

“I doubt you'll be welcome. My parents aren't exactly your biggest fans. Not that they ever were.”

He arched a brow. “How perceptive. Although it took you long enough to notice.”