Brenna put her head back and forced a small distance between Garrett and herself. She cleared her throat and took a breath. “So … what line of business are you in?”
Garrett looked down at her and laughed. “I believe you call that a strategic retreat, Mrs. Richards.”
“No, I’m serious,” she countered, shaking her head. “I’d really like to know what you do for a living.”
Dark eyes engaged hers. “All right If you’re really serious, I’ll tell you. I train companies in the concept of quality circles and how to utilize them with their employees.”
Brenna looked at him, nonplussed. “I hate to admit it, but I don’t even know what a quality circle is.”
“It’s very simple, really. It’s a method that can be used to make employees a real part of the management of their company. It involves them in determining their own futures. A quality circle generally consists of a small group of workers who regularly meet to discuss and try solving the problems they run into on the job. The group is led by a ‘facilitator,’ usually a supervisor who has been trained for the task. And that’s where I come into the picture.”
Brenna found herself regarding him with newfound respect. “It sounds fascinating. Does it work?”
“The concept has its critics, of course; but, yes, it can work and work well. The basic idea originated in Japan after World War Two. MacArthur drafted the services of several Americans to assist the Japanese in raising the quality of their products, which previously had a reputation for shoddy workmanship. The concept caught on spectacularly with the Japanese. Ironically, they turned around and exported the idea back to this country. Lockheed Corporation became the first U.S. firm to adopt the concept back in nineteen seventy-four. Since then over six thousand companies in this country have implemented quality circles.” Garrett flashed her a thoroughly charming smile. “And that’s the end of the lecture. I bet you’re sorry you asked now.”
“No, I’m not,” Brenna said in a quick, firm voice. “Actually, I was thinking that the idea of quality circles might work very well in my own business.”
Garrett was quick enough to conceal his surprise at her announcement. “What kind of business are you in?”
“I own and operate a chain of health spas, fitness centers if you prefer, in three Chicago suburbs.”
This time, surprise was plainly written on the man’s face. Then he burst out with a loud hoot of laughter. “You’re kidding!”
“I don’t see what’s so funny about that,” Brenna told him sharply. She didn’t find it the least bit amusing.
“It’s just that C.G.S. Consultants is a Chicago-based company, too,” he finally managed to convey to her.
“Is that the company you work for?”
“Work for and own,” Garrett stated with obvious pride.
Brenna raised a skeptical brow. This was all just a little too much coincidence. “Are you trying to tell me you live in Chicago?”
“Well, actually I have an apartment in Flasmore, which is just south of the city. But C.G.S. Consultants has its offices in downtown Chicago.”
“Yes, I know where Flasmore is. I live in Northbrook, which is just—”
Garrett finished the sentence for her. “Which is just north of the city. Yes, I know.”
Then they both realized in the same instant that somewhere in the middle of their conversation, the music had stopped. In fact, they were one of the few couples still on the dance floor.
“It seems the band has decided to take a break,” Brenna needlessly pointed out to him. They gradually broke apart and walked back to the table where they’d left their drinks.
“Why don’t we have these out on the terrace?” Garrett suggested before they sat down again. “I’d like to have a cigarette, and it’s stuffy enough in here without adding more smoke to the air.”
“All right,” Brenna agreed, picking up her glass and heading for the French doors. “Hmmm … It is nice out here,” she remarked as they stepped out into the balmy summer night. “And quiet, too.”
“It was getting a little boisterous in there, wasn’t it?” Garrett observed as he took a pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket of his jacket. “Would you like a cigarette?” he asked, offering her one of his.
“Thank you, but I don’t smoke,” she declined, turning to gaze out over the well-manicured lawns now partially obscured by shadows.
“How long have you lived in Chicago?” he inquired after lighting his cigarette and taking a deep draw.
“Ever since I left Mansfield fifteen years ago. I attended the University of Chicago for four years, and then I got my first job right in the area. Eventually I started my own business, and I’ve been there ever since.” She shrugged. “What about you?”
Garrett set his drink on the wide railing that ran along the length of the terrace and down the steps at the far end. “Like you, I took a job in Chicago after I got out of college. That was nine, maybe ten years ago now.”
“I suppose it’s not unusual we haven’t met before this,” she ventured.
“No, I suppose it isn’t,” Garrett agreed. “After all, Chicago is a big place.” Then they both fell silent, as if from mutual agreement.
The night was black with shadows, the sounds from inside the country club but a muted backdrop to the silence on the terrace. Brenna was conscious only of the night and of the man standing beside her. It had been a long time, perhaps too long, since she had been this aware of a man. She suddenly realized her emotions were no longer in a deep freeze; that she was as vulnerable as the next woman when it came to an attractive male. And Garrett was certainly that. All of her senses were strangely attuned to him. She inhaled deeply, taking in the faint scent of cigarette smoke mingled with the aroma of Scotch and exotic aftershave. She seemed to anticipate his slightest movement as if she could somehow see inside his head. When he took a step closer, she was prepared for it and countered the action by moving away.
“Tell me something, Garrett,” she heard herself ask in a voice that was unnaturally deep and husky. “Why did you stop to help me the night those boys were harassing me?”
She was only slightly surprised when he seemed to know immediately what night she referred to. He didn’t answer for a minute, but stood there watching the play of light and dark on the terrace floor. Then he threw his cigarette down and ground it underfoot before replying.
“I suppose I didn’t like the odds.”
“In other words, you tend to side with the underdog,” she drawled.
“Something like that,” he acknowledged. “Did you know I have a kid sister?” He put the question to her in the softest voice Brenna had ever heard him use.
“No … no, I didn’t,” she admitted, wondering why he would choose to tell her something like that now.
“Well, if it had been my sister caught in that ugly situation, I sure as hell hope some guy would’ve helped her out. I guess I couldn’t leave you there that night because you reminded me so much of Carol.”
“Why? Was she an unattractive, overweight girl, too?” Brenna said with more bitterness than she intended. Damn! She’d vowed to herself long ago that what was done, was done.
“I was thinking more of a sensitive, intelligent young woman trapped in frightening circumstances that were none of her making,” Garrett told her coolly. “I was speaking of an inexperienced girl who foolishly found herself in over her head with no idea how to get out.”
Brenna was suddenly ashamed. Deep within this man was a gentleness, an understanding that she should have known existed—if for no other reason than because of what he’d been through himself as a boy. In many ways, Garrett’s life had been no easier than her own. It was a testimonial to the man that he had managed to turn it all around and make such a success of himself. They had both changed so much over the years, on the inside even more than on the outside.
“I’m sorry,” Brenna finally said, placing a hand on his sleeve. “That wasn’t a very gracious thing to
say. I… I just want you to know I’ve never forgotten your kindness to me that night,” she murmured, feeling duly chastised.
“Forget it,” he said, grinning a boy’s grin. Then he reached out a lazy hand and captured her fingers, drawing them to the front of his jacket just above the spot where his heart beat in a strong, steady rhythm. “The past is the past, Brenna. It’s the present I’m interested in.”
Oh Lord, Garrett intended to kiss her! She could see it in his eyes, sense it in the slight tensing of his body as he moved closer still. But did she want him to kiss her? That was the question. A question to which Brenna found she had no immediate answer.
It wasn’t that she objected on any moral grounds. While she considered herself a discriminating woman, a kiss between two people was simply a kiss in this day and age. But what if it wasn’t quite that simple when the man was Garrett Forsyte? What if he misinterpreted the small capitulation? She would be the first to admit she was curious about the man. Curious, too, to experience the touch of that soft, warm, firm mouth on hers. But it could turn out to be more than she’d bargained for. Brenna wasn’t certain this was the time or the place to take that kind of risk.
She knew she was particularly vulnerable right now, her emotions already highly charged after meeting all these people again after so many years. Perhaps if this had been another time or another place … but it wasn’t. It was here and now, and she had perhaps a moment or two left in which to make her decision.
In the end, the decision was taken out of their hands by the opening of the terrace doors.
“Damn!” Garrett growled under his breath, quickly stepping away from her, his hands falling to his sides in a gesture of frustration.
Brenna wasn’t sure if she wanted to thank the intruders or curse them as well, whoever they were. “I think it might be best if we went back inside,” she sighed, straightening her shoulders.
“Yes, I suppose that would be best,” Garrett finally concurred. Something in his tone made her glance at him, but his expression told her nothing. Then, without another word, he picked up his drink and motioned for her to precede him through the French doors.
Once inside, Brenna turned to him. “Thank you for being so attentive this evening, Garrett.”
“Now, why does that sound suspiciously like a dismissal?” he said, his brow furled in a cynical arch.
Brenna met his eyes with a challenging lift of her chin. “It’s not a dismissal, Garrett, merely good night I’m tired,” she began, not entirely truthfully. “And I think I’ve had quite enough of this reunion for one evening,” she admitted. That much at least was the truth.
He scowled and thrust out his jaw. “I’ll walk you to your car, then.”
“No!” she declared in a taut voice. “No, you stay and enjoy the party. I prefer to find my own way to the parking lot.”
For a moment it seemed he was going to argue the point, then he merely shrugged his shoulders. “All right If you’re sure that’s the way you want it,” he said without a trace of gentleness.
She wasn’t at all sure, but Brenna nodded her head anyway. If there was one thing she didn’t need this weekend, it was an unexpected complication. And Garrett Forsyte was proving to be just that But her inner voice was telling her she was a coward and they both knew it.
“Well. Good night, then,” she said, forcing herself to smile. “Perhaps I’ll see you at the picnic tomorrow.”
“Perhaps you will,” Garrett drawled, then he turned on his heel and stalked away.
It was for the best, Brenna reminded herself again as she found her way out of the country club and headed straight for the spot where she’d parked her gray BMW. What she needed right now was a shower, a comfortable bed and a good night’s sleep—in that order. What she didn’t need was a man complicating her life. Especially a man like Garrett Forsyte.
She told herself that several times during the fifteen-minute drive back to the motel on the outskirts of town. The accommodations weren’t fancy, but they were the best Mansfield had to offer. At least the room was clean and the bed firm—from what she’d been able to determine when she checked in earlier that afternoon.
Brenna pulled off the highway at the flashing neon sign that indicated her destination and parked in front of the single-story unit. She wearily got out of her car and started toward the door of her room. She was about to take the key from her evening bag when she suddenly became aware of someone standing there in the shadows. Her heart picked up speed as she discerned the tall form of a man. Then he took a step toward her, the lights of a passing car momentarily illuminating his features.
Her first reaction was one of utter surprise. What in the world was Garrett doing here when she had left him only minutes before at the country club? Then her surprise quickly gave way to angry indignation. Surely the man hadn’t followed her thinking to pick up where they had left off on the terrace. What kind of woman did he think she was, anyway?
“Just what do you think you’re doing here?” she finally demanded, made all the angrier by hearing her voice shake.
3
I was about to ask you the same question,” Garrett said in a very hard, dry voice.
“I happen to have a room reserved at this motel,” she shot back, fumbling in her evening bag. She took her key out and dangled it in front of his nose as proof of her claim.
“And so do I,” he told her stonily, producing an identical key from the pocket of his trousers.
Brenna suddenly realized how bitter words could be when they had to be eaten one by one. “I… I’m sorry, Garrett. It seems I jumped to the wrong conclusion.”
“It would seem so.”
“You—you startled me!” she said accusingly.
“You thought I followed you here,” he proclaimed in a flash of perception that she found disconcerting.
Did she dare deny it? Brenna thought not. The man was far too quick to believe some flimsy excuse she might think up on the spur of the moment. “Perhaps. But only for a minute,” she confessed, sounding suitably dismayed.
“I suppose it was an understandable mistake.” He smiled, his smile one of indulgence. “I admit it crossed my mind for a minute that you might have followed me back here.”
“Well, of all the damned conceit!” she spit at him furiously. “As far as I knew, you were still back at that silly country club.”
“I know,” he said in a reasonable tone, taking the wind right out of her sails. “I left a minute or two after you did. Not that you had any way of knowing it. And that was when it occurred to me that this town only has two motels. The chances of our ending up at the same one were fifty-fifty no matter how you figure it Not bad odds if you can get them.”
“And just my luck,” Brenna mumbled under her breath.
If Garrett heard her, he pretended otherwise. “Are you really tired?” he inquired, leaning toward her. “Or would you like to go someplace for a nightcap?”
She looked up at him, primly shaking her head. “Thank you, but I think I’ve had quite enough to drink for one night.”
“You don’t believe in taking any chances, do you, Brenna?” he charged, coldly amused by her refusal.
“Not when the odds are against me,” she parried. “And I really am tired, Garrett.” Her voice faltered for a moment. “It’s been a long day.”
“I guess it has been,” he said in his softest tone. “But you owe me one, lady,” he went on smoothly, his eyes on her. “You cheated me out of having the last dance with you by running away like that.”
“I did not run away,” she replied with dignity.
“Then let’s have that last dance together now,” he proposed, dropping the key back into his pocket.
Stunned, Brenna stared up at him. “You mean you actually want to dance here?” The man had obviously had more to drink than she’d realized.
“It seems like the perfect spot to me. All you have to do is imagine Henry Mancini’s orchestra playing the ‘Theme from A Summer
Place’ somewhere in the background. I’ll supply the rest.”
“Imagine Henry Mancini’s orchestra?” she chided, refusing to take him seriously.
That was her second mistake, Brenna realized later. Her first was listening to even one word of this insane scheme of his when she should have made a run for it just as fast and as far as her feet would carry her.
“Well, I think it’s the least you can do if I’m going to supply a willing and eager dance partner,” he pointed out as if the logic of his statement were irrefutable.
“You’re crazy, do you know that?” She gestured, flinging her arms in the air. “In fact, this whole situation is crazy.”
“The whole world is crazy when you get right down to it,” Garrett told her as he captured her hand and placed it on his shoulder. “Haven’t you ever wanted to break loose and do something crazy every now and then?” he coaxed, twirling her in an elegant little dance step.
“It would seem I am right now, whether I want to or not,” she muttered dryly, trying to follow his lead.
His eyes met hers as they came together, and then there was suddenly no more anger between them, no more sarcasm, only her body fitting to his as if they were complementing halves of a whole. She’d danced with many men who had made her feel awkward. But in Garrett’s arms she was once again as light and graceful as a ballerina.
With one arm curled about her waist, he settled his chin against her forehead, the minute growth of whiskers a light abrasive against her flesh. He seemed to inhale the scent of her—the light summer breeze in her hair, the delicate perfume emanating from her skin, that totally natural essence that was hers and hers alone.
“I knew it would be like this from the first moment I took you in my arms,” Garrett murmured, his words muffled against her hair.
Despite the warm June night, Brenna shivered when his lips grazed the tip of her ear. She felt his immediate response, sensing the masculine satisfaction in him. His hips began to move against hers in a smooth undulation, inviting, exciting her, daring her to meet his challenge with one of her own.
Only This Night (Silhouette Reissued) Page 4
