Whitehorse (40 page)

Edwin swept up his glasses and, hands trembling, situated them on his face. He stared at Johnny through two broken lenses. "We'll talk later, after you've calmed down a little."

"Out!"

As Ed pivoted on his heels and left the room, Johnny turned back to the others. "Either of you have anything else to say about my decision?"

Anderson
picked up his briefcase and popped open the locks, tucked the yellow legal pads into a side pouch, situated his recorder into a pocket, then gently closed the case, locking it with a double snap and a click of the combination dial. Only then did he look at Johnny.

"It's your call, Johnny. It's none of my business who you marry. I will, however, have my associate contact you as soon as possible. His name is Joe Conrad. He's smart and as lethal in a courtroom as they come. He's handled some of the nastiest divorce cases in
L.A.
I suspect that as soon as Leah discovers what you intend to do to her father, you're going to need the likes of Joe, because by the time the new Mrs. Whitehorse gets through with you you'll be lucky to have your worshipped testicles intact."

NINETEEN

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D
ressed in a white terry bathrobe, a towel wrapped around her wet hair, Shamika shook her head as if clearing it of cobwebs. "Obviously I'm still hung over from last night and didn't hear you correctly. Johnny Whitehorse asked you to marry him and you said you'd think about it?" Dragging a chair back from the kitchen table, Shamika sat down and watched Leah steady Val's hand as he attempted to feed himself a spoonful of Cheerios. "Hello, girlfriend? I think you've spent too much time with your arm up horses' butts. Or is it your head? The one love of your life, the most eligible bachelor in this country wants to marry you, and you have to think about it?"

Val looked up and smiled. "Johnny come see me today?"

Leah grinned. "Yes."

"Put down that spoon of Cheerios and talk to me," Shamika pleaded, then lowering her voice, added, "What is there to think about? You're in love with him, right? The man was the third-highest-grossing entertainer in the industry last year; you wouldn't have to work another day of your life, and best of all, you wouldn't have to worry about where you're going to get the money to buy
Val
a new wheelchair … and you have to think about it?"

Gently wiping Val's face with a damp cloth, Leah shook her head. "It's not as simple as it sounds, Shamika. There's a lot of baggage that comes along with marrying Johnny."

"Excuse me?" Shamika wagged her head back and forth and rolled her eyes. "I think I could handle that kind of baggage no problem."

"There's his career to consider."

"You telling me you couldn't handle a few million women throwing themselves at his feet? Rubbing elbows with the rich and famous? Yachting with royalty? Ooh, honey, I can see us now, basking in the sun on the
Riviera
. Me coating this beautiful brown body in cocoa butter and flirting with Denzel Washington—"

"Part of Johnny's appeal to women is because he's
not
married. You know what women are like. Once their idol marries, the women's fantasies go up in smoke. They move on to the next hunk they can fantasize sweeping them off their feet and into the nearest bed."

"So what. So let them. Fact is, honey, Johnny Whitehorse could never pose half-naked again on Fifth Avenue or flash his cute butt on
NYPD Blue
and
still
be filthy rich. He's a smart man. He invests wisely. I get the impression that he's ready to move out of show business anyway and into…"

A look of realization crossed Shamika's face, and she slowly sat back in the chair, laced her fingers together on the table, and took a weary breath. "Senator Foster wouldn't have anything to do with your hesitancy, would he?"

"I can hardly ignore the fact that there are major problems between Johnny and my father."

"There are a lot of fathers-in-law who don't like their daughters' husbands. It all boils down to who you want to spend the rest of your life with: your father or Johnny."

"I think the problems go a bit deeper than simply their liking one another."

"I can't believe you'd let him come between you and Johnny again. For heaven's sake, Leah. The man virtually ignores your existence." She glanced down at Val meaningfully, then shook her head. "If Johnny's able to get past it, you should be able to as well. And who knows, if you two were to marry, maybe Johnny would lay off your father. For
your
sake."

"Wrong. Johnny would never go against his own principles, not if he feels very strongly on an issue. It isn't in his character. Who knows, maybe Johnny simply looks at me as a way to get even with my father."

Shamika's jaw dropped. "You don't mean that. The man is crazy in love with you. And Val, too."

Her face warming, Leah moved to the kitchen sink and turned on the cold water. She rinsed the milk and Cheerios out of the dishcloth and stared out the window, to the distant horizon where the highest peaks and chimneys of what once had been her home thrust up behind the rolling green pasture dotted with grazing brood mares.

Shamika moved up behind her. "You
are
in love with him, aren't you? You haven't suddenly discovered that what you two shared those years ago was nothing more than infatuation? Because if you're not in love with Johnny, then this whole conversation is moot. The
last
thing you want to do is marry some jackass again just for security."

Leah pressed the damp cloth to her cheeks, doing her best to block from her mind the hours of mindless passion she had spent in Johnny's arms the night before. "Johnny loves kids," she said wearily, unfolding and refolding the soggy rag.

"That's obvious," Shamika replied softly. "He's crazy about Val, and Val's crazy about him."

Leah smiled dreamily as she recalled the many hours they had lain together, too much in love to think of anything beyond the merging of their bodies and souls. "When we were young we vowed to have several children."

Moving around her, Shamika crossed her arms, leaned one hip against the counter, and waited for Leah to continue.

Leah shrugged and avoided looking at her concerned friend. "He'll want more children, Shamika."

"And that's what's got you worried?"

Looking over her shoulder at Val, watching him struggle to pluck Cheerios off the table, struggling even harder to put them in his mouth, Leah shook her head. "The doctors have already said that I'll always have problems carrying a child full term."

"And you're frightened that this will happen again." Shamika took Leah's hand in hers. "The doctors have assured you there are remedies for the problem. There's no reason why you shouldn't be capable of carrying a baby for nine months. Besides, it wasn't the premature issue that caused Val's problem. It was the meningitis."

"But we both know that extreme premature babies are at high risk for CP."

"It won't happen again, Leah."

"I just don't think I'm strong enough to go through this again, Shamika."

"So what does that mean? You're going to spend the rest of your life alone, refusing to marry any man who wants children?"

The phone rang and Shamika left the room. Leah followed, hoping Jake had not decided to renege on his decision to give her the day off. She'd promised Val a picnic lunch at the park, Johnny to join them as soon as he finished his business meeting.

Shamika laid the receiver down and looked around. "It's your father," she said in an exasperated tone.

"Leah, darling. Have I caught you at a bad time?"

Leah glanced at Shamika where she stood in the doorway, hands on her hips and terry robe fallen open, revealing her pink flannel nightgown. "No, Dad. Not at all. What a surprise to hear from you this morning."

"I'm in town for a few days and would love to meet you for lunch."

"Gee. I would have liked that, with a little notice. I'm afraid I have plans for lunch."

"Now what, or who, could be more important than your old man?"

"My son," she replied pointedly. "I promised him a picnic at the park."

"I see." A familiar silence ensued. Leah could imagine her father sitting behind a desk in some posh hotel room, surrounded by his fawning aides, stiff as a poker in his dull gray suit, mouth pressed in an effort to contain his irritation over not getting his way. It was that same look that had made her, as a child, dig her heels into the carpet to keep from running from the room—but that would have given him far too much satisfaction.

"What about dinner?" he finally said.

"What's the occasion?"

"Do I need an occasion to share some time with my daughter?"

"Normally."

He laughed, ignoring her sarcasm. "Shall we meet at La Hacienda, say sevenish? That
is
still your favorite restaurant, isn't it?"