Smooth Talking Stranger (28 page)

Discovering that I had never played golf, Churchill gave me an impromptu putting lesson. I told him I didn’t need to take on a new hobby that I was bad at, and Churchill told me that golf was one of the two things in life you could enjoy even if you were bad at them. Before I could ask what the other thing was, Jack shook his head with a groan and dragged me out of there, but not before his father had made him promise to bring me back soon.

There were elegant occasions when Jack and I attended a charity event for the Houston Symphony, or went to the opening of an art gallery, or out to dinner at a luminous restaurant located in a renovated 1920s church. I was amused and also annoyed by the reactions of other women to Jack, the way they fluttered and flirted. He was courteous but distant, but that only seemed to encourage them. And I realized Jack was not the only one with a possessive streak.

I relished the weekend afternoons when I hired a babysitter to look after Luke, and I went up to Jack’s apartment. We lay together for hours, talking or having sex, sometimes at the same time. As a lover, Jack was inventive and skillful, guiding me into new levels of sensuality, easing me back carefully. Day by day I felt myself changing in ways that I couldn’t bring myself to examine. We were getting too close, I knew that, but I couldn’t think of how to stop it.

I found myself telling Jack everything about my past, things I had previously confided only to Dane, memories still painful enough to make my eyes water and my voice crack. Instead of saying something philosophical or wise, Jack simply hugged me, offering the comfort of his body. It was what I needed most. But I often felt the tension of conflicting desires when I was with Jack. I was so powerfully drawn to him, and yet also trying hard to maintain any fragile barriers I could. And he was so damnably smart, too smart to push me. Instead, he seduced me constantly, with gentleness and strength, with sex and charm and steely patience.

*   *   *

One day jack brought luke and me to gage and Liberty’s home in the Tanglewood subdivision, for an afternoon of swimming and relaxation. He explained that he would have to spend part of the time helping his brother Gage work on a twelve-foot salt bay skiff they were building in the garage. It had started as a project for Liberty’s eleven-year-old sister, Carrington, whom Liberty had raised since birth. Gage was helping her to make the small boat, but they needed an extra pair of hands to get the job done.

Tanglewood was in the Galleria area, the residential lots generally smaller than River Oaks, the main boulevard lined with live oaks and wide paths and benches. Gage and Liberty had bought a tear-down property, one of the last few crumbling “rambling ranch” homes built in the fifties, and they had built a European-style mansion of limestone and stucco, with a black slate roof. The entrance featured a two-story rotunda and a curving staircase with a wrought-iron balustrade, and more ironwork at the circular balcony of the second-floor level. Everything was serene, agreeably textured and roughened, as though it was a centuries-old home.

Liberty welcomed us at the door, her hair pulled back in a pony-tail, her slim but curvaceous figure dressed in a neat black swimsuit and a pair of frayed denim shorts. She wore flip-flops decorated with sequined fake flowers. Liberty had an interesting quality I could only describe as wholesome sultriness, a sort of clear-eyed, sexy niceness.

“I love your shoes,” I said.

Liberty hugged me as if I were an old family friend. “My sister Carrington made them for me at summer camp. You haven’t met her yet.” She stood on her toes to kiss Jack’s cheek. “Hi, stranger. We haven’t seen much of you lately.”

He grinned at Liberty while he held Luke against his shoulder. “Been busy.”

“Well, that’s good. Anything that keeps you out of trouble.” She took the baby from him and cuddled him. “You forget how little they are at the beginning. He’s adorable, Ella.”

“Thanks.” I felt a glow of pride, as if Luke were my own child instead of Tara’s.

Two new figures entered the hall—Liberty’s tall, black-haired husband, Gage, and a young blond girl. Carrington looked nothing like Liberty, which led me to conclude they were half-sisters.

“Jack!” she exclaimed, hurtling toward him, all skinny legs and flying braids. “My
favorite uncle.”

“I already said I’d help with the boat,” Jack said ruefully as she tackled him.

“It’s fun, Jack! Gage banged his finger and said a bad word, and let me use the cordless drill, and I got to hammer nails into the side boards—”

“Cordless drill?” Liberty repeated, darting a half-worried, half-chiding glance at her husband.

“She did great.” Gage smiled and reached out to shake my hand. “Hi, Ella. I see your taste in company hasn’t improved.”

“Don’t believe anything he tells you, Ella,” Jack said. “I am and always have been an angel.”

Gage snorted.

Liberty was trying to look at Gage’s hand. “Which finger did you hurt?”

“It’s nothing.” Gage showed her his thumb, and she frowned as she inspected the place on the nail that had begun to bruise. I was struck by the way his expression changed as he looked at his wife’s down-bent head, the way his eyes softened.

Retaining his hand in hers, Liberty glanced at her little sister. “Carrington, this is Miss Varner.”

The girl shook my hand and smiled at me, revealing two crooked front teeth. She had porcelain skin and sky blue eyes, and a barely discernable tracery of pink lines on the bridge of her nose and her forehead, as if she’d been wearing a mask.

“Call me Ella, please.” I glanced at Liberty and added, “She was wearing protective eyewear, by the way.”

“How did you know?” Carrington asked, impressed and mystified. Before I could answer, she caught sight of Luke. “Oh, he’s so cute! Can I hold him? I’m really good at holding babies. I help with Matthew all the time.”

“Maybe later when you’re sitting down,” Jack said. “For now, we got work to do. Let’s go have a look at the boat.”

“Okay, it’s in the garage!” She took his hand and tugged eagerly.

Jack resisted for a moment, looking at me. “You okay hanging out with Liberty by the pool?”

“There is nothing I’d rather do.”

Liberty took me through the house and out to the back. She carried Luke, cooing to him, while I followed with the diaper bag. “Where is Matthew?” I asked.

“He went down for his nap a little early today. The babysitter will bring him out when he wakes up.”

We went through a kitchen that looked like something out of a rustic French chateau. A pair of French doors led to a fenced-in backyard, which was landscaped with a green lawn, flower beds, and a party deck with a grill. The dominant feature of the half-acre yard was a stone-and-tile pool made of two connecting lagoons, one shallow and one deep.

The end of the shallow lagoon ended in a sandy white shore with a real palm tree growing in the center. “Hawaiian sand,” Liberty said, laughing as she noticed my interest. “You should have seen us picking it out—the landscaper must have brought twenty samples, while Gage and Carrington tried to figure out which kind would make the best sandcastles.”

“You mean it was shipped all the way from Hawaii?”

“Yes. A truckload. The pool guy wants to kill us on a weekly basis. But Gage decided it would be fun for Carrington to have her own little beach. He would do anything for her. Here, let me hand the baby to you, and I’ll turn on the misters.”

“Misters?”

Liberty went to flip a switch near the barbecue pavilion, activating nozzles that had been recessed in the deck to create a light cooling mist around the pool.

I was very nearly awed. “That is amazing,” I said. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but your life is unreal, Liberty.”

“I know.” She made a face. “Believe me, this isn’t how I grew up.”

We settled into a couple of green cushioned patio chairs by the pool, and Liberty adjusted an overhead umbrella to shade Luke as I held him.

“How did you meet Gage?” I asked. Although Jack had told me their father Churchill had introduced Liberty to the family, I didn’t know the particulars.

“Churchill got his hair cut at the salon where I worked, and we became friends. I was his manicurist for a while.” Liberty glanced at me with a spark of mischief in her eyes, and I knew she was studying my reaction. No doubt most people made a lot of assumptions based on that information.

I decided to be blunt. “Was there anything romantic between the two of you?”

Liberty smiled and shook her head. “I loved Churchill immediately, but not at all in a romantic way.”

“He was a father figure, then.”

“Yeah, my own dad died when I was young. I guess I always had a feeling of something missing. After we’d known each other a couple of years, Churchill hired me as a personal assistant, and that was when I met the rest of the family.” She laughed. “I hit it off with everyone
except
Gage, who was an arrogant jerk.” A pause. “But very sexy.”

I grinned. “I’ll admit, the Travis men have some great
DNA
going for them.”

“The Travis family is . . . unusual,” Liberty said, kicking off her flip-flops and stretching out her tanned, gleaming legs. “They’re all very strong-willed. Intense. Jack’s the most easygoing of all of them, outwardly at least. He’s sort of the mixer of the family—he keeps everything balanced. But he can be stubborn. He does things his own way, and he’s willing to butt heads with Churchill when necessary.” She paused. “You’ve probably figured out by now that Churchill is not the easiest of fathers to get along with.”

“I know he has high expectations of his children,” I said.

“Yes, and he has strong ideas of how they should live, what choices they should make, and he gets mad or disappointed when they don’t do things his way. But if you stand your ground with Churchill, he respects that. And he can be incredibly caring and under-standing. I think the more you get to know him, the more you’ll like him.”

I stretched out my legs and studied my unpolished toes. “You don’t have to talk me into liking Churchill or the other Travises, Liberty. I already do. But this relationship between Jack and me isn’t going anywhere. It’s not going to last.”

Liberty’s green eyes widened. “Ella . . . I hope you won’t let Jack’s past reputation get in the way. I’ve heard some of the stories about him running wild around Houston. He’s sown his oats, though, and I think now he’s finally ready to settle down.”

“It’s not that—” I began, but she interrupted earnestly.

“Jack is one of the most loving, loyal guys you could ever meet. I think it’s been hard for him to find a woman who could look beyond the money and the Travis name, and want him for who he is. And Jack needs someone who is strong and smart enough to handle him. He would be miserable with a passive woman.”

“What about Ashley Everson?” I couldn’t help asking. “What kind of woman is she?”

Liberty wrinkled her nose. “I can’t stand her. She’s the kind of woman who has no female friends. She says she just likes men better. And what does it say about a woman who can’t be friends with other women?”

“It says she’s competitive. Or insecure.”

“In Ashley’s case, probably both.”

“Why do you think she left Jack?”

“I wasn’t around at the time, but Gage was, and he says the problem with Ashley is that she can’t ever stick with any guy for long. Once she gets a man, she’s bored and wants to move on. In Gage’s opinion, Ashley never meant to end up married to Pete. She would have divorced him right away if she hadn’t gotten pregnant.”

“I don’t get why Jack fell in love with her in the first place,” I grumbled.

“Ashley is good with men. She knows all the football stats, and she hunts and fishes, and she cusses and tells filthy jokes, and on top of all that she looks like a Chanel model. Men love her.” Her mouth quirked. “And I’m sure she’s great in bed.”

“Now I can’t stand her, either,” I said.

Liberty chuckled. “Ashley is no competition for you, Ella.”

“I’m not competing for Jack,” I told her. “He already knows that I’m not interested in getting married, ever.” I saw her eyes widen. “It has nothing to do with how great he is,” I continued. “I have a lot of reasons for being this way.” I gave her a sheepish smile. “And I’m sorry if I sound defensive, but telling a married person you never want to get married is like waving a red flag at a bull.”

Instead of looking offended or trying to debate the matter, Liberty nodded thoughtfully. “That must be frustrating. It’s hard to swim against the tide.”

I liked her even more than I already did, for such ready acceptance of my feelings. “It was one of the great things about my boyfriend Dane,” I told her. “He never wanted to get married, either. It was a really comfortable relationship.”

“Why did you break up with Dane? Was it because of the baby? ”

“Not really.” I pulled out of the diaper bag an infant toy, a musical inchworm, for Luke to play with. “Looking back on it, I guess there wasn’t enough to hold me and Dane together. Even after all the years we’d spent with each other. And when I met Jack, there was something about him—” I stopped, conscious that for all the variety of words I knew, there was no way to describe why and how I had been so completely captivated by Jack Travis. I looked down at Luke, stroking back the little dark feathers of his hair. “Hey, why are we with Jack?” I asked him, and he gazed back at me as if similarly mystified.

Liberty laughed gently. “Believe me, I know. Even when I couldn’t stand Gage, it seemed like the temperature in the room went up about a hundred degrees whenever he was there.”

“Yes. That’s the fun part, the attraction. But I don’t see the relationship lasting forever.”

“Why not?” Liberty seemed genuinely puzzled.

Because I lose everyone I care about, sooner or later.
I couldn’t say that aloud—although it had a potent inner logic for me, I knew it would make me sound crazy. There was no way to explain that the very thing I craved, the intensity of a relationship with Jack, was what I feared most. It wasn’t a rational fear, of course . . . it was purely visceral, which made it that much harder to fight against.