by Sandra Brown
Lauri decided now was as good a time as any to test his expertise at sign language. Dr. Norwood had been judiciously reticent about Drake Rivington. Lauri now understood that her supervisor had wanted her to form her own opinion of him. Using slow and precise gestures, Lauri asked him in sign language, Do you use sign language with Jennifer?
"I understood Jennifer, that's all," he said when she stopped.
She tried again and asked him in sign, How old is your daughter? He didn't react at all. He just sat there staring at her with those green eyes that had suddenly become expressionless. Lauri signed What color is her hair? Nothing. Do you love Jennifer?
"Jennifer again. I'm sorry I don't know the rest. I think this is love." He crossed his arms over his chest as she had done.
"Yes, that's right, Drake. From now on, this will be your name so you won't have to spell it out each time." She made the sign for the letter D and touched it to the middle of her forehead. "This is father," she said, touching her forehead with her thumb, her other fingers spread. "We'll combine the two. See?"
He nodded. "This is Lauri." She made the letter L and stroked the side of her face from cheekbone to chin. "This is girl," she said, stroking her cheek with her thumb while her hand was held in a gentle fist. "See how we combine the two signs to form someone's name?"
"Yeah," he said with a trace of excitement. "For Jennifer we make the letter J with our little finger and then a curly sign to indicate her curly hair."
"Exactly!" They smiled across at each other, and for a moment their eyes locked. There was a strange but pleasant stirring deep within her. She had a fleeting knowledge of how other women must feel when they watched this handsome face on their television screens each afternoon. He was indeed charismatic and he knew it. If she didn't watch herself, he could deter her from the things she had come to say to him.
"Drake," she was signing everything now, even as she spoke it, in the habit of teachers who worked with the deaf. "Doctor Norwood asked me to evaluate Jennifer's progress. I've been observing her for several days. I feel that my opinion is an educated one, but that's all it is, an opinion. However, I'm going to be totally honest with you."
"I want you to be. I'm sure you think the worst of a father who has had his daughter institutionalized for most of her three years, but I love her. I'm concerned about her. And I want to do what's best for her." He stood up and went to the window. With his back to Lauri, he looked through the grimy glass.
"Please watch me sign, Drake. It will help you learn it." He faced her again as if about to issue a challenge, but he shrugged and returned to the chair.
She continued quietly. "You are fortunate that Jennifer is not profoundly deaf. I'm sure you know by now that her deafness is the sensory neural type that, at this point in time, is irreparable. She can hear some loud noises. For instance she can distinguish between a helicopter and a whistle." She paused to see if he would comment. He didn't, so she continued. "Unfortunately she doesn't know the name for a whistle or a helicopter. Or maybe she knows and just doesn't reveal to us that she does. She's almost totally unresponsive to any communication."
The lines on either side of his mouth tightened. "Are you telling me she's retarded?"
"No, not at all," Lauri emphasized. "She's exceptionally bright. It's my opinion that she lacks in— Some children need to be taught on a one-to-one basis. I personally feel that it has been detrimental to Jennifer's development for her to be institutionalized. She needs to be in a home environment where she is constantly in the company of someone who … who…" she trailed off, not wanting to say what she thought might offend him.
"Who loves her? Is that what you're stammering about? I told you I love her. I didn't lock her up in that school because I was ashamed of her."
"I didn't mean to—"
"Of course you did!" he barked. "Since you're so smart, you tell me what a widower with an infant child does with that child. Especially if that child is deaf. Huh? That fancy school of yours is expensive, you know. I have to work hard to afford it. And the medical bills after a million tests that don't tell you one damn thing except that your little girl is deaf, which you already knew, or you wouldn't have put her through those awful goddamn tests in the first place."
He paused to draw a breath, his green eyes flashing dangerously. "At least we concur on one thing. Jennifer needs to be privately tutored." He stood up abruptly, sending the chair flying backward on squeaky coasters. "But not by you." He stormed around the desk and braced his strong arms on the sides of her chair, imprisoning her in it.
"I told Doctor Norwood I wanted someone responsible. I was looking for a grandmotherly type in a baggy sweater with large pockets – not a chick in a designer suit." His eyes flicked over her body in an insulting assessment. "Someone with gray hair pulled back into a neat bun, not flaming red hair flowing in the unmistakable lines of a Sassoon Cut. Someone slightly overweight with a plump, matronly figure, not flaunting pert little breasts and a tight little rear." Lauri flushed hotly with anger and embarrassment. How dare he!
"Jennifer's tutor should have thick ankles and wear sensible shoes, not—" He indicated her trim calves, encased in sheer stockings and the high-heeled ankle-strap sandals she was wearing: "You don't look like a tutor for a deaf child. You look like one of the girls who hand out the fragrance samples in Bergdorfs."
He leaned down even closer until his head was almost touching hers. Before she could react, he buried his face in the soft hair behind her ear. "You smell like them too," he whispered huskily.
For an instant Lauri couldn't breathe. But when she could, his own scent assailed her. It was clean and musky and male. What was the matter with her? She jerked her head away from him.
"You— Let me up from here this instant," she demanded, pushing against the wall of his chest. Surprisingly he straightened up and stepped away from the chair as she bolted out of it. She took several deep, restorative breaths before she said, "I may not live up to your expectations, but you certainly confirmed mine, Mr. Sloan." She said the name like an epithet. "You don't deserve your daughter. She's beautiful and intelligent and sweet. But she's dying. Do you hear me? She's dying emotionally because her only parent hasn't taken it upon himself to learn a language she can understand, much less try to teach her that language. It's parents like you who set deaf education back to the Helen Keller days. I'm a teacher—"
"You're a girl."
"I'm a woman—"
"Ahhh, now we get to my next point," he said, pointing an accusing finger at her. "Don't pretend you didn't like my touching you. I know better. How do I know that if I set you up out in New Mexico, you won't run off with the first unattached man that comes along? Isn't that what all you liberated career girls really want? A husband?"
Lauri could feel the heat of her fury burning to the roots of her hair. "I've had one. It wasn't a very happy marriage."
"You divorced?"
"He died."
"How convenient."
She whirled away from him before she could say anything else that might prove to be regrettable. After all, Dr. Norwood had sent her on this mission and would expect a report. At the door she turned to see him leaning against the desk with ankles crossed. His smug, satisfied attitude was evident in the mocking eyes, the indolent stance, and the curled lip under the thick mustache.
Slowly and deliberately Lauri said, "You are the most arrogant, ill-mannered, insufferable—" She signed the last word.
"What does that mean?" he snapped, as he quickly pushed away from the desk.
"You figure it out, Mr. Sloan."
She slammed the door behind her.
* * *
Chapter 2
«^»
"Lauri, you'll never guess—"
"Brigette, I'm in the middle of a class. What is it?"
The teacher who had burst into Lauri's classroom of seven-year-old students looked completely flustered, and she stammered as she said, "You'll never guess who's out there ask
ing for you. I mean, I've seen him a million times … I'd know him anywhere. But then there he was, standing out in the hallway, asking for you—"
"Slow down, Brigette, you're upsetting the children. They think something is wrong." Lauri knew whom her friend must be referring to, but she didn't want anyone to know that her heart had lurched at the thought of seeing Drake Rivington again. To even the most discriminating eye she appeared cool and indifferent.
It had been over a week since their meeting at the television studio. When she returned from that inauspicious interview, Dr. Norwood asked her about it.
"I don't think I was quite what Mr. Rivington had in mind, though I think we agreed that Jennifer needs special care and training on a more personal level."
"Oh, I'm so disappointed, Lauri," the administrator said. "I just knew you two would hit it off and you could take Jennifer to New Mexico. Of course, I was dreading losing you."
Lauri smiled. "Well, you'll not be losing me for a while. I think you'd better have another recommendation in mind. Mr. Rivington will no doubt be calling you."
Lauri offered no more information, and Dr. Norwood didn't press her. The woman was uncannily perceptive. Did she guess that the meeting hadn't gone well?
All that week Lauri tried to put Drake Rivington out of her mind. She had spent so much time with Jennifer lately that she found it hard to stop those daily visits with the child. Jennifer was in a group of students younger than those Lauri taught, and she had been seeing Drake's daughter after regular classroom hours.
Jennifer was a beautiful child. She was well-behaved – almost too well-behaved, Lauri thought. Her hair was pale blond, and riotous curls tangled around her small head. Her eyes – exactly like her father's – were a deep green, fringed with contradictory dark lashes. She was delicate and dainty and never got dirty or did anything to provoke anyone's anger.
Lauri had prided herself on her objectivity, but the little girl with the big sad eyes was getting to her. It only took a few days for her to know that she wanted to become Jennifer's tutor. She wanted to take the child out of the orderly, well-furnished dormitory and put her in a cheerful, cluttered room.
Her thoughts along these lines would invariably return to Jennifer's father, and the bubble would burst. She could never work for such a man and live in his house. It didn't matter that he would be two thousand miles away. He had insulted her as a woman and as a professional. Besides, he didn't want her for Jennifer's tutor.
She would have denied to anyone that she had been watching The Heart's Answer. For the last few days, when it was time for the silly drama, she could be found in front of the television set in the teachers' lounge. Every time she saw Drake on the twelve-inch screen, disturbing things would happen to her. Her heartbeat escalated and her palms grew moist; a warm heaviness settled in the middle of her body and spread to her limbs, rendering them useless. She could vividly recall him leaning over her and nuzzling her hair. Small mannerisms she would never have noticed in anyone else characterized him in a frighteningly familiar way. That was crazy! She had spent no more than fifteen minutes with him. Yet, she felt she knew each nuance of his personality intimately.
Now Brigette had barged into her classroom, raving about the actor's good looks and charm. What Brigette didn't know was that the man was unforgivably conceited, rude, and impertinent.
"Can you believe that Drake Sloan is Jennifer Rivington's father? I wondered why we never saw her parents. He comes here at night through Doctor Norwood's apartment for his visits with Jennifer. I guess he's afraid of being swarmed by fans like me." Brigette giggled. "And he's asking for you as if he knew you!"
"He does."
Brigette was silenced by this bit of information and stared at Lauri as if the young woman had sprouted wings. "You know him and you never said—"
"Brigette, what is it you want?"
"Wha – what is it I want?" she parroted. "I just told you, Doctor Glen Hambrick or Mr. Rivington or whatever you want to call him is waiting to see you."
"Tell him I'm busy."
"What!" Brigette shrieked, and for an instant Lauri wished she shared the handicap of her students. Sometimes deafness could be considered a blessing. "You don't mean that, Lauri. Are you insane? The sexiest man in the whole world is—"
"I think that's exaggerating, Brigette," Lauri said dryly. "I'm busy. If Mr. Rivington wants to see me, he'll have to wait until this class is over."
"I'd be happy to."
The deep, low voice projected into the room with the modulated tones of a professional actor. He was standing framed in the doorway, looking straight at Lauri. Her heart skipped a beat before returning to a steady, though accelerated, pace.
Brigette had lost her well-exercised capacity for speech and stood openmouthed as she stared at Drake.
Not wanting to create a scene, the details of which Lauri was sure Brigette would broadcast to the entire faculty, she said softly, "Would you excuse us, Brigette? As Mr. Rivington has already interrupted my class, I suppose I must just as well see him." He only grinned at her sarcasm.
Brigette walked trancelike toward the door and stood in front of Drake like a mannequin until he moved aside and ushered her into the hall. His smile was devastating, and his mustache twitched in amusement over Brigette's hypnotic state.
How perfectly sickening, Lauri thought. What was it about this man that reduced intelligent women to somnambulant morons? He was an ordinary man. Well, perhaps a little more than ordinary looking, Lauri conceded when he turned back to face her.
"Hello, Ms. Parrish. I hope I'm not interrupting you."
"You are, and you're not sorry for it at all."
His grin deepened, and so did the dimple in his cheek. "You're right, I'm not. But I have Doctor Norwood's permission to be here. She thought I should observe your teaching techniques."
Her lips pursed in disapproval. Then she sighed. She'd give in this time, but she didn't have to do it gracefully.
"Children," she said, signing as she spoke, "this is Mr. Rivington. Do you all know Jennifer Rivington? This is her father."
The children acknowledged him with smiles and a few signed hi. Some of the more auditory children even spoke the word.
"Have a seat, Mr. Rivington." She indicated a low chair. He frowned at her as he eased his long frame into the ridiculously small chair. Some of the children laughed, and Lauri found it hard not to join them. When he was finally situated, his knees were almost touching his chin.
He was impeccably dressed in brown slacks and a camel blazer. His shirt was white, but striped with varying shades of brown. A dark brown necktie was knotted at his throat.
"We're working on prepositions, Mr. Rivington. Come here, Jeff, and show Jennifer's father what you've learned."
On the bulletin board Lauri had tacked several large, glossy pictures of apples. Bright yellow worms with happy smiles and big eyes were placed either on, under, behind, in or in front of the apples. The child learned the concept, the printed word, and the sign by positioning the worms on the apples.
"Now you do it," Lauri said, turning to Drake when all the students had gone through the exercise.
"What?" he cried.
The children started laughing when Lauri put her hand under Drake's elbow and pulled him to his feet, standing him in front of the bulletin board. She pointed a yardstick to a particular apple and asked in sign, "Where is the worm?"
The green eyes bore into her as if he wanted to throttle her, but she only smiled sweetly. "Surely this is not too hard for you," she purred.
He gave her the sign for the correct preposition.
"In a complete sentence, please."
The long, brown fingers signed the complete sentence just as the dismissal bell rang. A few of the children could hear its shrill sound, and they began to shift restlessly in their chairs.
"Okay, class, go!" Lauri said as she signed it. They needed no encouragement to race toward the door, and she was left alone with Drake.
"That was a clever trick. Do you give each visiting parent that kind of personal attention?" he snarled.
"Most visiting parents have the good manners not to barge into the middle of a class and demand personal attention."
"Touché," he said without the least amount of contrition. "As long as I'm on your blacklist, I'll secure my position there by telling you that you're going to dinner with me."
She looked at him incredulously. "You're not only rude, Mr. Rivington, you're demented as well. I'm not going anywhere with you."
"Yes, you are. Doctor Norwood said you would."
"I didn't know that Doctor Norwood was running a dating service."
"I told her I wanted to talk to you over dinner. She said she thought that was a very good idea."
"That's far from a directive. She's my employer, not my mother."
"Will you?"
"What?"
"Have dinner with me."
During this exchange Lauri had been straightening the classroom. He stalked her. Each time she turned around, he was standing there. She reached in the bottom drawer of her desk for her purse and slammed it shut as she stood up.
He loomed over her, and she stepped back a half step to increase the small space between them. "You don't listen very well, do you? I said I wasn't going to dinner with you and I'm not. As far as I'm concerned, we have nothing to discuss. You said everything you had to say at our last meeting, and so did I."
He put a restraining hand around her wrist when she tried to push past him. His fingers clasped her in a warm, firm grip that raised the tempo of the pulsebeat beneath them.
"I'm sorry about the unflattering things I said."
He was an actor, she said to herself. He could conjure up any attitude or emotion on a whim. She doubted his sincerity, and her skeptical expression told him so. "I mean it," he said, closing his fingers tighter around her wrist. "I didn't know your excellent qualifications then. I didn't know how experienced you were with working with the deaf. I didn't know that your sister was deaf."
