Escapade

by Diana Palmer

  “That’s right. It’s safe to let go with me now. I’ve got you. Nothing will hurt you, ever again,” he said with gruff protectiveness. “I swear to God, nothing!” His arms contracted, and his face pressed through the thick, sweet-smelling curls of hair at her throat as he rocked her gently in his embrace. “You’re fine, Mirri. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  His arms felt gentle and protective. She felt her muscles go lax, and she began to breathe normally. Her body shivered once, uncontrollably. His big, lean hand smoothed over her shoulders, gentling her, comforting her.

  He smelled nice, she thought. He was wearing something spicy and sweet, and beyond that there was the faint odor of detergent in his shirt. She remembered that his flat nails were always immaculate at work. He had nice hands.

  Her eyes opened and stared across the quick rise and fall of his chest to the window beyond. One small hand curled into his shirt trustingly while she laid her cheek on his broad chest and felt his heartbeat.

  “My God,” he breathed. “What have I done?”

  The tone was unfamiliar. It was tender and full of self-reproach.

  “I asked you out that time,” she said wearily, “because I wanted to tell you that you were wrong about me. I know what you thought, but I’m not a tramp. Although I guess maybe I am, really, because those boys seemed to think I wanted what they did—” Her voice broke.

  His arms contracted, and he groaned. “That’s it, turn the knife,” he said unsteadily. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She lifted her head and looked at him from tear-wet eyes. “But I haven’t ever told anyone,” she said, surprised. “Not anyone, except Amanda. My mother died, and my dad drank. He didn’t care where I went. I was just turned loose on the streets, and I was stupid. I went to a movie with my friends and and took a shortcut home, all alone.” She shook helplessly, closing her eyes. “I went to Amanda after it happened. She made me stay with her, got a doctor... I think I’d have killed myself afterward, but she wouldn’t let me.”

  “Killed yourself! Good God, it wasn’t your fault!”

  “But it was,” she said heavily. “I didn’t have a brain in my head. I trusted everybody. I never thought, dreamed, anyone would do that to me.”

  “Did the police make an arrest?”

  “I didn’t...couldn’t...go to the police,” she said, her hand clenching into the fabric of his shirt. “They warned me, dared me to say anything. Their leader was the son of a local politician. He said the others would swear under oath that I suggested it. It would be their word against mine, and everybody would think I was just trying to get some money out of them. Everybody knew I was poor.”

  “Of all the...!” He cursed, roundly and profanely.

  “Later,” she continued after a minute, “the leader was killed in a wreck. I never saw any of the others. I never knew them.” Her nails bit into his chest involuntarily. “I...there was a... I became pregnant.”

  His hand stilled on her back, waiting.

  “My father made me...have an abortion.” She took a slow, wounded breath, talking out her pain, her grief, her guilt. “I tried to run away, but he dragged me into the clinic. My God, nobody tells you what you’ll feel like afterward!”

  She burst into tears, crying as if her heart would break in two. His arms contracted and he held her closer, his cheek on hers, his eyes closed, in anguish for her.

  “I’m sorry,” he said gently. He rocked her against him. “I’m so damned sorry!”

  “The suffering doesn’t stop,” she whispered. “It never stops. I don’t sleep for thinking about it, for the guilt...”

  “Perhaps for some women,” he began quietly, “abortion is the best way after a rape. But it depends on the mental attitude a woman has toward it. Your father should have known you better than that. The decision should have been yours. Abortion is a deeply personal decision. It should rest with the mother of the child. With her alone.”

  “I’m too soft for it,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “I haven’t cried for years. I don’t think I cried this much when it happened.” She looked up at him through a mist. “You were right, weren’t you? I’m a tramp.”

  He drew in a painful breath. His lean fingers touched her face gently. “Oh, no, you aren’t. I wanted you,” he said, his voice deep and slow in the stillness of the room. “Telling myself you were a tramp was the only way I could talk myself out of trying to do something about it. Maybe I was trying to make you resign as well. I don’t like being out of control.”

  “You wanted me?” she asked slowly. “But you hate me!”

  “No.”

  She forced a smile. “Sure.”

  She tried to get up, but he pushed her back down, gently but firmly. “Just stay where you are,” he said. “I’m not going to do anything but hold you.”

  She subsided. “All right. Just don’t make me feel that I couldn’t get away if I wanted to,” she said. “That scares me.”

  “So I saw.” His face hardened. “I didn’t know what I was doing in there.” He jerked his head toward the bedroom. “I just lost control. I’m sorry.”

  “I guess you’ve been without a woman for a while,” she murmured, unconsciously defending him as she wiped her eyes again.

  He felt that he owed her a secret or two. She’d been hurt badly enough that she’d probably understand. She might be the only woman on earth who would.

  “Mirri, I’ve never had a woman,” he said quietly, and with icy pride.

  Her soft blue eyes searched his dark ones. He looked so defensive, as if he expected her to laugh or ridicule him. “By choice?” she asked.

  He drew in a steadying breath. “Not really.” He toyed with a strand of her hair. “I was shy when I was younger. Then I got tough. I had to, just to survive. I studied hard and worked hard. I went into law enforcement and never looked back. It became my whole life. I saw what happened to men who let themselves be addicted to women. I wanted no part of it. Until...” He hesitated, but she looked genuinely interested. He shrugged, the action lifting her closer to him. “Until a debutante staked me out for hot pursuit and tried to add me to her collection of men. To make a long story short, I didn’t know what to do. She threw a fit and said some things I’ve never been able to forget. Finally she laughed me out of her room.” His face went hard. His dark eyes were pained. “I never had the courage to try again after that. The older I got, the harder it was for me to think about being intimate with a woman, having her find out how naive I was and make fun of me for it. My pride wouldn’t take it. After that, I guess work became my life.”

  She was watching him, her eyes quiet and curious. She reached up hesitantly and touched his thick dark hair. She smiled apologetically. “I never liked touching men, after what happened to me,” she confessed. “I was never able to let a man hold me or kiss me without remembering...” Her eyes went cold, and her hand lifted away from his face. “I couldn’t talk about it. Men made fun of me in places I worked. The ice virgin, they called me. I couldn’t handle the teasing, so I changed my wardrobe and my image. When I did that, most men couldn’t take the challenge I presented to their egos. You know, superwoman in bed. Maybe they were afraid they wouldn’t measure up and I’d gossip about them. Whatever the reason, they were nice to me, but they left me strictly alone except to tease me. That was better than being ridiculed, at least. I suppose I’ve been hiding,” she finished sadly.

  “Maybe we both have.” He sighed, studying her slight form in his arms. “I’m sorry for what I did to you. For what it’s worth, it won’t ever happen again.”

  “I know that. And you don’t have to worry that I’ll say anything about what you told me, either,” she added, averting her eyes. “I’m a very private person, too. I don’t gossip, ever.”

  “I’m amazed that I’m such a poor judge of character,” he murmured dryly. “I suppose it’s b
eing inexperienced. One of the visiting agents, who really is a notorious womanizer, said you were the most innocent little creature he’d ever seen. I wish I’d listened. You’ll have nightmares tonight, and it’s my fault.”

  She smiled with a world-weary look. “I’ve had nightmares for years. Every night. Nothing will change that.”

  He scowled. “Have you ever had therapy?”

  “No, and I won’t. I’m not letting some stranger scour around in the back of my mind and charge me a hundred dollars an hour just to listen to me whine about it.”

  “Therapy would help,” he said stubbornly.

  “No.”

  He smiled and shook his head. “I’ll bet you were a handful when you were a child.”

  “No, I wasn’t,” she replied, finding him surprisingly easy to talk to. “My father had a big stick.”

  “And beat you with it,” he said as if he knew.

  She nodded, looking down at the buttons on his shirt. “I don’t like people very much.”

  “Neither do I. You’re a better actress than I gave you credit for, did you know? You bubble, like champagne. My blood rushes through my veins every time you walk into a room. You’re always smiling, cheerful, as if life is a constant joy.”

  “Parts of it are,” she replied. “I have Amanda to talk to and a good job, and I like my own company.”

  “Will you like it for the rest of your life?” he asked gently.

  “I don’t know that I could be intimate with a man,” she replied. “That would put a terrible strain on anyone I tried to have a relationship with. I’m aware of my limitations, so I keep to myself.”

  “But you were attracted to me, weren’t you?” he asked thoughtfully.

  “Since we’re being so honest with each other, yes, I was,” she agreed.

  “But not after tonight.”

  Her eyebrows curled downward. “Why not?”

  “I hurt you. Frightened you. Damned near forced you. That’s why not.”

  “I know why you did it now, though,” she said. “I’m not afraid of you.”

  “Did you hear what I told you?” he repeated. “I wasn’t kidding. I’ve never made love to a woman completely in all my life.”

  “Yes, I heard you.” She smiled at him shyly. “I feel sort of like that.” The smile faded. “It hurt terribly,” she said in a husky whisper. “They didn’t even touch me, except for...” She averted her face. “I thought I was going to die for days afterwards.”

  “It’s a miracle they didn’t kill you.”

  “But they did try to,” she returned. “One of them had his belt around my neck, and there was an ambulance siren. I guess they thought it was the police. They left me lying there and ran.”

  His face hardened. “You shouldn’t have let them get away with it,” he said coldly.

  “I know that, now. I keep thinking what if they did it again, to some other poor girl. But I was very young, and very scared.”

  He brushed back her disheveled hair and looked at her. Finally he smiled. “You’re very pretty, too,” he mused. “Are you going to keep working for me?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  He nodded. He let go of her hair. “I’d better go home. Will you be all right?”

  “I’ve lived with it for a long time,” she said. “I can cope.”

  He got up, gently depositing her on her feet in front of him. His dark eyes searched her wan face. “I don’t like leaving you, Mirri,” he said. “If I give you my home number, will you use it if you need to? Sometimes a voice in the darkness is as good as a hand to hold.”

  “You’d do that for me?” she asked.

  “Of course.”

  “For anyone who needed it,” she guessed.

  He didn’t answer her right away. Finally he said, “I’m not a benevolent society. No one has the number except my uncle. It’s unlisted.”

  She searched his eyes for a long moment. “Then, yes, I’ll use it. But only if I have to.”

  He wrote it down on a slip of paper and laid it on the coffee table. He slipped the pen back into his pocket and retrieved his Stetson. “The Stroganoff was delicious. Thank you.”

  She walked with him to the door, her arms folded protectively over her breasts. “You’re welcome. I like to make quiche, too.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten that.”

  She didn’t look up. “I make it on Saturday nights. I like the Saturday-night horror pictures on television, so I usually stay up late. Vampire movies and werewolves and such,” she clarified. “But I don’t like a lot of gore.”

  “Neither do I. I lived through Vietnam. I don’t ever want to look at mangled human beings again.”

  “How old are you?” she asked.

  “Thirty-seven.” He touched her hair slowly. “I’m too old for you, anyway.”

  “I’m almost twenty-four.” She studied her toes. “No, you’re not.”

  “You don’t look that old,” he said with faint wonder.

  “Neither do you.”

  He opened the door and stood looking out it, his hat still in his hand. “I’ve always wondered what quiche tastes like,” he said without looking at her.

  Her heart skipped. “You could come over next Saturday night and find out.”

  He didn’t turn, but his hand contracted around the hat. “I’d like that, if I haven’t made you afraid of me.”

  “You aren’t the same man who came over earlier tonight,” she reminded him. “I’m not afraid of you now. You know how it feels to be hurt.”

  He took a slow breath. “Yes.”

  She smiled. “I’ll see you at work on Monday, then.”

  He looked down at her. “First thing.”

  Her body tingled when he looked at her. It was an odd reaction. She liked it. Her face began to heat at the way he smiled back. “Good night.”

  “Good night.”

  He left, reluctantly. Mirri watched him walk to his car and get in it. She watched until he drove away, out of sight, before she closed and locked the door. For an evening that had begun as a disaster, it had ended surprisingly well. She went to clean up the kitchen and found herself humming.

  The rest of the weekend was uneventful, but when Mirri was back at work, she noticed that Nelson’s attitude toward her had changed drastically. He was gentle and polite, and he smiled at her. She warmed to him like a flower to sunlight, and her work suffered just a little because of her distraction.

  On the other hand, Danny Tanner was becoming a real headache. He staked out Mirri like prey and began to flirt outrageously with her. The more she resisted, the more he persisted.

  It was bound to come to a head, and it did. One day at lunch she was left alone in the office with him, and he made a crude remark about what he’d like to do to her.

  Unfortunately for him, Nelson Stuart walked in the open office door and overheard him.

  “What did you say?” he demanded, enraged at the thought of Mirri having to tolerate language like that in her own office.

  “I was just talking to her,” Danny blurted out. He was a whiz kid, a college dropout with a big ego and not much ability.

  Mirri drew herself up to her full height. “Like fun you were,” she said through her teeth.

  Knowing what he did about Mirri, Nelson had to force himself not to take two steps forward and throw the other man through the wall. Tanner wasn’t an agent, he was a clerk, a couple of steps higher on the pay scale than Mirri. He was also expendable.

  “Do you want to file charges against him for sexual harassment?” Nelson asked her.

  “Oh, good grief, it was just a joke.” Danny laughed nervously.

  “Yes, I want to file charges,” she told Nelson. “I’ve had more than enough of Mr. Tanner’s offensive language, and I’ve repeatedly asked him to s
top it. He doesn’t listen.”

  “Come into my office, please. Mr. Tanner, you are suspended without pay pending a formal hearing,” he added, his very stance enough to make the young man step back. “Starting now.”

  “It was a friendly little discussion! She’s a woman, I’m a man...”

  “She’s an employee of this agency, Mr. Tanner,” Nelson said, his temper barely leashed. “You have no right to subject her to any action, even any language, which makes it uncomfortable for her to do her job.”

  “I’ll file a countercharge,” the young man threatened. “I’ll say she encouraged me.”

  Mirri was sick inside. It was the past, all over again.

  “If you do, make sure there are no skeletons rattling in your closet,” Nelson said, and he smiled at him.

  It was a calculated threat. But it worked. Danny paled. He glared at the two of them and went to his desk.

  He left, and Nelson took Mirri into his office, closing the door behind him. He smiled at her with curious pride.

  “You didn’t back down this time. Good girl.”

  “Will he do what he threatened?”

  He shook his head. “And if he does, it won’t matter. I’ll stand up for you.”

  She laughed nervously, pushing back her hair. “I couldn’t make him stop. He’s been driving me batty ever since he came here.”

  “Why didn’t you come to me?”

  “I didn’t think you’d believe me, before,” she confessed. Then she smiled at him. “He can say what he likes. He looks like a lizard. No sane woman would want to go out with him.”

  He chuckled. “Don’t say that at the board hearing.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  He searched her soft eyes. “I wanted to hit him. Imagine that.”

  “Because of me?”

  His broad shoulders lifted and fell. “I feel protective toward you. Even a little possessive.” His eyes narrowed. “Do you mind?”

  Warmth kindled inside her. She began to smile. “No. I don’t think I do.”