"If you say so," he said with a regretful thought for the pretty, feminine dress that he'd never seen her wear in public. So much for hoping that Matt might have coaxed her out of her repressive way of dressing. But it was early days yet.
Chapter Ten
For the first few days after her return to work, Leslie was uneasy every time she saw Matt coming. She shared that apprehension with two of the other secretaries, one of whom actually ripped her skirt climbing over the fence around the flower garden near the front of the building in a desperate attempt to escape him.
The incident sent Leslie into gales of helpless laughter as she told Karla Smith about it. Matt came by her office just as they were discussing it and stood transfixed at a sound he'd never heard coming from Leslie since he'd known her. She looked up and saw him, and made a valiant attempt to stop laughing.
"What's so funny?" he asked pleasantly.
Karla choked and ran for the ladies' room, leaving Leslie to cope with the question.
"Did you say something to the secretaries the other day to upset them?" she asked him right out.
He shifted. "I may have said a word or two that I shouldn't have," was all he'd admit.
"Well, Daisy Joiner just plowed through a fence avoiding you, and half her petticoat's still...out... there!" She collapsed against her desk, tears rolling down her cheeks.
She was more animated than he'd ever seen her. It lifted his heart. Not that he was going to admit it.
He gave her a harsh mock glare and pulled a cigar case out of his shirt pocket. "Lily-livered cowards," he muttered as he took out a cigar, flicked off the end with a tool from his slacks pocket, and snapped open his lighter with a flair. “What we need around here are secretaries with guts!" he said loudly, and flicked the lighter with his thumb.
Two streams of water hit the flame at the same time from different directions.
"Oh, for God's sake!" Matt roared as giggling, scurrying feet retreated down the hall.
"What were you saying about secretaries with guts?" she asked with twinkling gray eyes.
He looked at his drenched lighter and his damp cigar, and threw the whole mess into the trash can by Leslie's desk. "I quit," he muttered.
Leslie couldn't help the twinkle in her eyes. "I believe that was the whole object of the thing," she pointed out, "to make you quit smoking?"
He grimaced. "I guess it was." He studied her intently. "You're settling back in nicely," he remarked. "Do you have everything you need?"
"Yes," she replied.
He hesitated, as if he wanted to say something else and couldn't decide what. His dark eyes swept over her face, as if he were comparing her dark hair and glasses to the blond camouflage she'd worn when she first came to work for him.
"I guess I look different," she said a little selfconsciously, because the scrutiny made her nervous. His face gave nothing away.
He smiled gently. "I like it," he told her.
"Did you need to see Ed?" she asked, because he still hadn't said why he was in Ed's office.
He shrugged. "It's nothing urgent," he murmured. "I met with the planning and zoning committee last night. I thought he might like to know how I came out."
"I could buzz him."
He nodded, still smiling. "Why don't you do that?"
She did. Ed came out of his office at once, still uncertain about Matt's reactions.
"Got a minute?" Matt asked him.
"Sure. Come on in." Ed stood aside to let the taller man stride into his office. He glanced back toward Leslie with a puzzled, questioning expression. She only smiled.
He nodded and closed the door, leaving Leslie to go back to work. She couldn't quite figure out Matt's new attitude toward her. There was nothing predatory about him lately. Ever since his return from Houston and the explosive meeting at her apartment, he was friendly and polite, even a little affectionate, but he didn't come near her now. He seemed to have the idea that any physical contact upset her, so he was being Big Brother Matt instead.
She should have been grateful. After all, he'd said often enough that marriage wasn't in his vocabulary. An affair, obviously, was out of the question now that he knew her past. Presumably affection was the only thing he had to offer her. It was a little disappointing, because Leslie had learned in their one early encounter that Matt's touch was delightful. She wished that she could tell him how exciting it was to her. It had been the only tenderness she'd ever had from a man in any physical respect, and she was very curious about that part of relationships. Not with just anyone, of course.
Only with Matt.
Her hands stilled on the keyboard as she heard footsteps approaching. The door opened and Carolyn came in, svelte in a beige dress that made the most of her figure, her hair perfectly coiffed.
"They said he let you come back to work here. I couldn't believe it, after what that reporter told him,'' the older woman began hotly. She gave Leslie a haughty, contemptuous stare. "That disguise won't do you any good, you know," she added, pausing to dig in her purse. She drew out a worn page from an old tabloid and tossed it onto Leslie's desk. It was the photo they'd used of her on the stretcher, with the caption, Teenager, Lover, Shot By Jealous Mother In Love Triangle.
Leslie just sat and looked at it, thinking how the past never really went away. She sighed wistfully. She was never going to be free of it.
"Don't you have anything to say?" Carolyn taunted.
Leslie looked up at her. "My mother is in prison. My life was destroyed. The man responsible for it all was a drug dealer." She searched Carolyn's cold eyes. "You can't imagine it, can you? You've always been wealthy, protected, safe. How could you understand the trauma of being a very innocent seventeen-year-old and having four grown men strip you naked in a drug-crazed frenzy and try to rape you in your own home?"
Amazingly Carolyn went pale. She hesitated, frowning. Her eyes went to the tabloid and she shifted uneasily. Her hand went out to retrieve the page just as the door to Ed's office opened and Matt came through it.
His face, when he saw Carolyn with the tearsheet in her hand, became dangerous.
Carolyn jerked it back, crumpled it, and threw it in the trash can. "You don't need to say anything," she said in a choked tone. "I'm not very proud of myself right now." She moved away from Leslie without looking at her. "I'm going to Europe for a few months. See you when I get back, Matt."
"You'd better hope you don't," he said in a voice like steel.
She made an awkward movement, but she didn't turn. She squared her shoulders and kept walking.
Matt paused beside the desk, retrieved the page and handed it to Ed. "Burn that," he said tautly.
"With pleasure," Ed replied. He gave Leslie a sympathetic glance before he went back into his office and closed the door.
"I thought she came to make trouble," she told Matt with evident surprise in her expression. Carolyn's abrupt about-face had puzzled her.
"She only knew what I mumbled the night I got drunk," he said curtly. "I never meant to tell her the rest of it. She's not as bad as she seems," he added. "I've known her most of my life, and I like her. She got it into her head that we should get married and saw you as a rival. I straightened all that out. At least, I thought I had."
"Thanks."
"She'll come back a different woman," he continued. "I'm sure she'll apologize."
"It's not necessary," she said. "Nobody knew the true story. I was too afraid to tell it."
He stuck his hands into his pockets and studied her. His face was lined, his eyes had dark circles under them. He looked worn. "I would have spared you this if I could have," he gritted.
He seemed really upset about it. "You can't stop other people from thinking what they like. It's all right. I'll just have to get used to it."
"Like hell you will. The next person who comes in here with a damned tabloid page is going out right through the window!"
She smiled faintly. "Thank you. But it's not nece
ssary. I can take care of myself."
"Judging by Carolyn's face, you did a fair job of it with her," he mused.
"I guess she's not really so bad." She glanced at him and away. "She was only jealous. It was silly. You never had designs on me."
There was a tense silence. "And what makes you think so?"
"I'm not in her league," she said simply. "She's beautiful and rich and comes from a good family."
He moved a step closer, watching her face lift. She didn't look apprehensive, so he moved again. "Not frightened?" he murmured.
"Of you?" She smiled gently. "Of course not."
He seemed surprised, curious, even puzzled.
"In fact, I like bears," she said with a deliberate grin.
That expression went right through him. He smiled. He beamed. Suddenly he caught the back of her chair with his hand and swiveled her around so that her face was within an inch of his.
"Sticks and stones, Miss Murry," he whispered softly, with a lazy grin, and brought his lips down very softly on hers.
She caught her breath.
His head lifted and his dark, quiet eyes met hers and held them while he tried to decide whether or not she was frightened. He saw the pulse throbbing at her neck and heard the faint unsteadiness of her breath. She was unsettled. But that wasn't fear. He knew enough about women to be sure of it.
He chuckled softly, and there was pure calculation in the way he studied her. "Any more smart remarks?” he taunted in a sensual whisper.
She hesitated. He wasn't aggressive or demanding or mocking. She searched his eyes, looking for clues to this new, odd behavior.
He traced her mouth with his forefinger. "Well?"
She smiled hesitantly. All her uncertainties were obvious, but she wasn't afraid of him. Her heart was going wild. But it wasn't with fear. And he knew it.
He bent and kissed her again with subdued tenderness.
"You taste like cigar smoke," she whispered impishly.
"I probably do, but I'm not giving up cigars completely, regardless of the water pistols," he whispered. "So you might as well get used to the taste of them."
She searched his dark eyes with quiet curiosity.
He put his thumb over her soft lips and smiled down at her. "I've been invited to a party at the Ballengers' next month. You'll be out of your cast by then. How about buying a pretty dress and coming with me?" He bent and brushed his lips over her forehead. "They're having a live Latin band. We can dance some more."
She wasn't hearing him. His lips were making her heart beat faster. She was smiling as she lifted her face to those soft kisses, like a flower reaching up to the sun. He realized that and smiled against her cheek.
"This isn't businesslike," she whispered.
He lifted his head and looked around. The office was empty and nobody was walking down the hall. He glanced back down at her with one lifted eyebrow.
She laughed shyly.
The teasing light in his eyes went into eclipse at the response that smile provoked in him. He framed her soft face in his big hands and bent again. This time the kiss wasn't light, or brief.
When she moaned, he drew back at once. His eyes were glittery with strong emotion. He let go of her face and stood up, looking down at her solemnly. He winced, as if he remembered previous encounters when he hadn't been careful with her, when he'd been deliberately cruel.
She read the guilt in his face and frowned. She was totally unversed in the byplay between men and women, well past the years when those things were learned in a normal way.
"I didn't mean to do that," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."
"It's all right," she stammered.
He drew in a long, slow breath. "You have nothing to be afraid of now. I hope you know that."
"I'm not frightened," she replied.
His face hardened as he looked at her. One hand clenched in his pocket. The other clenched at his side. She happened to look down and she drew in her breath at the sight of it.
"You're hurt!" she exclaimed, reaching out to touch the abrasions that had crusted over, along with the swollen bruises that still remained there.
"I'll heal," he said curtly. "Maybe he will, too, eventually."
"He?" she queried.
"Yes. That yellow-backed reporter who came down here looking for you." His face tautened. "I took Houston apart looking for him. When I finally found him, I delivered him to his boss. There won't be any more problems from that direction, ever. In fact, he'll be writing obituaries for the rest of his
miserable life."
"He could take you to court..."
"He's welcome, after my attorneys get through with him," he returned flatly. "He'll be answering charges until he's an old man. Considering the difference in our ages, I'll probably be dead by then." He paused to think about that. "I'll make sure the money's left in my estate to keep him in court until every penny runs out!" he added after a minute. "He won't even be safe when I'm six feet under!"
She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He was livid, almost vibrating with temper.
"But you know what hurts the most?" he added, looking down into her worried eyes. "What he did still wasn't as bad as what I did to you. I won't ever forgive myself for that. Not if I live to be a hundred."
That was surprising. She toyed with her keyboard and didn't look at him. "I thought...you might blame me, when you knew the whole story," she said.
"For what?" he asked huskily.
She moved her shoulders restlessly. "The papers said it was my fault, that I invited it."
"Dear God!" He knelt beside her and made her look at him. "Your mother told me the whole story," he said. "She cried like a baby when she got it all out." He paused, touching her face gently. "Know what she said? That she'd gladly spend the rest of her life where she is, if you could only forgive her for what she did to you."
She felt the tears overflowing. She started to wipe them, but he pulled her face to his and kissed them away so tenderly that they came in a veritable flood.
"No," he whispered. "You mustn't cry. It's all right. I won't let anything hurt you ever again. I promise."
But she couldn't stop. "Oh, Matt...!" she sobbed.
All his protective instincts bristled. "Come here to me," he said gently. He stood up and lifted her into his arms, cast and all, and carried her down the deserted hall to his office.
His secretary saw him coming and opened the door for him, grimacing at Leslie's red, wet face.
"Coffee or brandy?" she asked Matt.
"Coffee. Make it about thirty minutes, will you? And hold my calls."
"Yes, sir."
She closed the door and Matt sat down on the burgundy couch with Leslie in his lap, cradling her while she wept.
He tucked a handkerchief into her hand and rocked her in his arms, whispering to her until the sobs lessened.
"I'm going to replace the furniture in here," he murmured. "Maybe the paneling, too."
"Why?"
"It must hold some painful memories for you," he said. "I know it does for me."
His voice was bitter. She recalled fainting, and coming to on this very couch. She looked up at him without malice or accusation. Her eyes were red and swollen, and full of curiosity.
He traced her cheek with tender fingers and smiled at her. "You've had a rough time of it, haven't you?" he asked quietly. "Will it do any good to tell you that a man wouldn't normally treat a woman, especially an innocent woman, the way those animals treated you?"
"I know that," she replied. "It's just that the publicity made me out to be little more than a call girl. I'm not like that. But it's what people thought I was. So I ran, and ran, and hid...if it hadn't been for Ed and his father, and my friend Jessica, I don't know what I would have done. I don't have any family left."
"You have your mother," he assured her. "She'd like to see you. If you're willing, I'll drive you up there, anytime you like."
She hesitated. "You do
know that she's in prison for murder?'' she asked.
"I know it."
"You're well-known here," she began.
"Oh, good Lord, are you trying to save me?" he asked with an exasperated sigh. "Woman, I don't give two hoots in hell for gossip. While they're talking about me, they're leaving some other person alone." He took the handkerchief and wiped her cheeks. “But for the record, most reporters keep out of my way." He pursed his lips. "I can guarantee there's one in Houston who'll run the next time he sees me coming."
It amazed her that he'd gone to that much trouble defending her. She lay looking at him with eyes like a cat's, wide and soft and curious.
They had an odd effect on him. He felt his body react to it and caught his breath. He started to move her before she realized that he was aroused.
The abrupt rejection startled her. All at once she was sitting beside him on the couch, looking stunned.
He got up quickly and moved away, turning his back to her. "How would you like some coffee?" he asked gruffly.
She shifted a little, staring at him with open curiosity. "I...I would, thank you."
He went to the intercom, not to the door, and told his secretary to bring it in. He kept his back to Leslie, and to the door, even when Edna came in with the coffee service and placed it on the low coffee table in front of the sofa.
"Thanks, Edna," he said.
"Sure thing, boss." She winked at Leslie and smiled reassuringly, closing the door quietly behind her.
Leslie poured coffee into the cups, glancing at him warily. "Don't you want your coffee?"
"Not just yet," he murmured, trying to cool down.
"It smells nice."
"Yes, it does, but I've already had a little too much stimulation for the moment, without adding caffeine to the problem."
She didn't understand. He felt her eyes on his stiff back and with a helpless laugh, he turned around. To his amazement, and his amusement, she didn't notice anything wrong with him.
He went back to the couch and sat down, shaking his head as he let her hand him a cupful of fresh coffee.
"Is something wrong?" she asked.
Books By Diana Palmer Page 239
