by Peggy Webb
When Callie got back to her room, Peg was practically bouncing off the walls with curiosity and excitement.
“What happened?” she said. “Tell me now and don’t leave out a thing.”
“I’m having dinner with Joseph tonight.”
Peg did a jig around the room. “I knew it! There’s not a man born who won’t rise to the challenge when he sees somebody else horning in on his territory.”
“I’m not territory, and I was merely talking to Touchy Feely. Not using him. I wouldn’t stoop so low.”
“Yeah, but it worked, didn’t it?”
Wicked glee beats righteous anger every time. Callie burst into laughter.
“Lord, Peg, what am I going to do with you? You’re corrupting me.”
“Good.” Peg plopped onto the bed and patted the mattress. “Sit down now, and tell me what you’re wearing tonight. And don’t you dare say that somber black thing I saw hanging in the closet.”
“That’s the one.”
“It most certainly is not. If you’re going to fish you need to use the right bait.”
“I have a hard time thinking of myself as bait, but I’ll humor you. What do you suggest?”
“There is the most incredible dress in the shop downstairs.” Peg bounced off the bed and grabbed her purse. “Come on, I’ll show you. And on the way down you can tell me word for word everything that was said.”
“I don’t need a new dress,” Callie said, but she got her purse anyway. After all, what would it hurt to look her best?
Callie wore red. She looked stunning, elegant, and so sexy that Joseph wanted to kill every man who looked at her. The dress was tantalizing and demure at the same time, caught high around her throat with a band of rhinestones in the front and plunging all the way to her waist in the back. The fabric was the soft clingy type that molded her body, and through the thigh-high slit he caught just a glimpse of leg.
To add to the allure, Callie had swept her hair up then left a few tendrils trailing down her long, slender neck.
Joseph took it all in with one glance. And then to be sure he hadn’t missed a thing, he took another long look.
Dinner was going to be the most dangerous thing he’d done in years.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“It’s a beautiful night for walking,” she said.
“Only if we want to be mugged.”
Joseph hailed a cab, then sat close enough to smell her perfume but not close enough to get her dander up. Callie, he’d discovered, had a temper. And he liked it.
He liked everything about her, including the way she ate. He’d seen her eat before, of course, but only fish, pork and beans out of the can and those rushed meals in the midst of the outbreak. He’d never seen her enjoy a leisurely meal.
It was one of the ways a man could learn about a woman.
“Hmm. Marvelous.”
She closed her eyes and moaned deliciously over the macadamia nut soup. Joseph died a little inside.
It was a sound he’d heard before. In the White Mountains. Beside the waterfall.
The shrimp scampi with dill cream sauce caused her to roll her shoulders in ecstacy, all the while making little appreciative sounds that drove him wild.
“I love watching you eat,” he said.
She laughed, then dug into her black goma asparagus. He was fascinated.
“I would never have guessed,” he said. “You’re so slender.”
“I work it off.” Her eyes danced with devilment. “In a variety of ways.”
He bit down on a moan. God, how was he ever going to be able to say goodbye to this woman again?
“Their dessert menu is one of the best in town,” he said. “I can’t decide between the coconut yum yum and the macadamia nut banana cake.”
“Neither can I.” She set her dessert menu aside and looked him straight in the eye. “I think I’ll have both.”
Joseph roared. This is how it should be with a man and a woman, he thought. Easy camaraderie. Fun. And always the underlying sexuality.
“It’s obvious you love eating. Do you love cooking, Callie?”
“Yes. When I have time. I’m a gourmet cook.”
“Then you would love Italy. Have you ever been there?”
“No. Spain, Portugal, France, but not Italy. Tell me about it.”
“You’d love it for the food alone.”
It was her turn to laugh. “Are you implying that I have a healthy appetite?”
“I can testify to the fact.” He captured her with a look. “You have a healthy appetite for all things.”
They were wading in dangerous waters. It wouldn’t be fair to take her there. Not again. Bruised hearts were too easily broken, and the last thing he wanted to do was break Callie’s heart.
After he left the mountain he’d never expected to see her again, and yet here she was, sitting across the table from him in Washington D.C. Joseph had been given a second chance, and he knew they were rare.
This time, he intended to get it right. Callie was one in a million, a warm and beautiful woman, a brilliant virologist who deserved more than a few days in a mountainside camp with a man who could never pledge his love “till death do us part.”
Death was always so close. One prick of a needle, one slip of a mask, one mistake.
Joseph would make no mistakes this time. He had a few days to treat Callie the way she deserved to be treated, the way he should have treated her from the beginning: as a valued colleague and good friend.
“One of my favorite spots is a little town nestled at the foot of the Subasio Mountains,” he said. “Assisi.”
“The home of Saint Francis.”
“Exactly. In the evening when the bells ring and the cypress trees dance and the white doves lift off on wings that glow in the sunset, you can feel his spirit.”
Enraptured, Callie leaned across the table. “That’s poetry, Joseph.”
“You love poetry, don’t you, Callie?”
“Yes. That’s how my father courted my mother.”
Her hand lay on the white linen cloth, golden-skinned and slender. Joseph covered it with his own.
“That’s how you deserve to be courted.”
He felt the tremor that ran through her. He wanted to lift her hand to his lips, to feel the soft touch of her skin, to taste the sweetness he knew so well.
But he had no right. Too much stood between them. A dangerous profession. A struggle over identity. And soon, an entire ocean.
No, he had no right.
“Someday, Callie, someone will court you that way.”
Silently she withdrew her hand, but her face was composed, giving away nothing.
“It’s getting late,” she said.
“Yes. I’ll call for a cab.”
On that long cab ride back to the hotel, the ocean already flowed between them. It wasn’t that they didn’t talk. That would have been too obvious. It was what they talked about: how the White House looked at night, the traffic in D.C., the conference schedule.
Polite small talk.
Their hotel loomed. In a few minutes Callie would go to her room and he would go to his. Alone.
He said goodbye to her in the lobby. It would be easier, he’d decided. Easier to watch her walk away into a crowd than to watch her walk into her bedroom and lock him out.
“Thank you for dinner, Joseph.”
“It was my pleasure, Callie.”
The lobby was still crowded. Snatches of conversation drifted around them. Virologists loved nothing better than to stand around talking about their work. Ordinarily Joseph would be an avid participant, but not tonight.
Tonight there was nothing except Callie in red, Callie with the startling blue eyes and the silky hair, Callie with the mind and body that drove him wild. He longed to touch her, to taste her, to take her into his arms and never let her go.
She was close…yet so very far away.
He trembled with the effort to keep his distance. “Good night, C
allie.”
“Night, Joseph.”
Hesitant, she stood in front of him a moment longer. All he had to do was reach out to her. Conscience warred with desire.
Callie turned swiftly, then three feet away she looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Sweet dreams.” She merely mouthed the words, but they were bells ringing through his mind.
He watched until she was in the elevator, then he spun on his heel and headed back out the door. He was in a murderous mood. He needed air.
The elevator was empty. Callie held herself together until the doors closed, then she leaned her face against the wall and cried. She had the elevator all to herself until she reached her floor. There was a light showing under the door.
“Good grief, what happened to you?”
Peg tossed her book on the table and caught hold of Callie’s arms. For once Callie didn’t try to be brave in the face of adversity.
“I can’t do this anymore.” Her shoulders shook as she let the sobs rip.
Peg pulled Callie into her arms. “That’s right, you let it all out. Cry to your heart’s content. That’s the way.”
Callie accepted the comfort and thanked God for the friendship. Another woman always understood tears.
She cried until there were no more tears, then she went into the bathroom and washed her face. When she came out Peg was perched on the edge of the bed.
“Sit down. If you want to talk about it, I’ll listen. If you don’t want to talk, I’ll shut up and offer a fairly substantial shoulder.”
“I think I need to talk this through, but let me get this dress off first. I look ridiculous.”
“You look gorgeous.”
“Thank you, but that’s beside the point. I’ve never tried to be anybody but myself, and I’m not planning to start now.” She stepped out of the dress and tossed it to Peg. “If you can wear it, it’s yours.”
“Are you kidding? You’ve got about eight feet of legs and no hips.” Peg folded the dress and put it into Callie’s suitcase. “Someday you’ll want to wear it again.”
“And this hat.” Callie snatched it out of the closet and flung it onto the bed. “What on earth was I thinking of?”
“Aunt Jessie Queen.” Peg put the hat on and looked at herself in the mirror. “My lord, I look like an elf under a toadstool. Mike would die laughing.” She packed the hat into Callie’s suitcase. “By the way, did you notice that you’re not crying anymore?”
“If I start again, I might never stop.”
Callie slid into her robe, then wrapped her arms around herself. Loss stabbed her like knives, and she wondered if she would ever be free of the pain.
“Tonight I realized something, Peg. I’m not a brittle sophisticated woman who can go from loving a man one minute to being his best buddy the next. I’m not the kind of woman who can sit across from the man I want above all things on this earth and pretend that nothing is wrong.”
“Bravo. Tell Joseph.”
“You mean try to shock him into making the same confessions? No, thank you. He’s made his position perfectly clear. I have no intention of playing the role of beggar.”
“No one would dare think of you that way, Callie. You’re the strongest woman I know.”
Callie walked to the window and gazed out into the night. It had started to rain. Streetlights cut a bright path in the darkness, and in one small arc stood a tall man, his collar pulled high, his shoulders hunched forward as if the burden on them was too heavy to bear.
Joseph.
Callie squinted into the darkness trying to pick out his features. He was too far away. She couldn’t tell a thing about him except that he was tall.
She had to stop doing that. She couldn’t go through the rest of her life losing her breath at the sight of every tall man she encountered. She couldn’t spend the rest of her days scanning crowds for a glimpse of hair as black as a raven’s wing and cheekbones like knife blades.
Closing her eyes, she rested her forehead on the windowpane.
“I’m so tired of being strong and brave,” she whispered.
Peg slid her arm around Callie’s shoulders and stood beside her, silent.
Sometimes, deliverance came in the smallest gestures imaginable.
Callie was not at the morning session. Joseph searched the auditorium for her. He spotted Peg up front with two virologists from California, but Callie was nowhere in sight.
After the lecture he hurried to the bank of phones in the hallway and had the desk clerk call her room. If she was there, she wasn’t answering the phone.
He prowled the lobby, the gift shops, the coffee shops looking for her. There was no sign of her. He even started asking have-you-seen-this-woman questions that made people give him funny sidelong glances, as if he might be a prime candidate for the little men in white coats.
He did a block by block search around the hotel, missing his lunch completely. How could he eat when his heart was around his ankles? By the time he got back to the hotel, the afternoon session was in full swing. He skipped it. An unprecedented thing for him.
He tried her room once more. No answer. Agony ripped him apart. To be in the same hotel and not see her was unbearable. He had only a few days left in D.C. and every moment with Callie was precious.
He slipped in the door of the conference room, but he didn’t have the lecture on his mind. He was looking for Peg. If anybody knew where Callie was, it was her friend.
He spotted her near the back, on the opposite side of the auditorium. Up front Dr. Karla Langerfeld was talking about “Regulation of a Runaway Replicator,” but Joseph listened with only half his mind. The other half was occupied with watching Peg to be certain he got out the door before she did.
After the lecture, he caught up with her in the hallway in front of the bank of elevators.
“Peg, I need to talk to you.”
“Sure.” She came to him, smiling. “Shoot.”
“Not here. How about a cup of coffee?”
“Great.” She linked her arm through his. “You’re the first handsome man who’s asked me to coffee since I left Mike in Atlanta. How have you been, pal?”
“Busy. I’m headed to the Ivory Coast after the conference to join a research team. How about you?”
They slid into a back booth at the coffee shop downstairs.
“In about eight months, I’m headed to the maternity ward. I’m pregnant, and you’re the first to know.” Peg picked up the dessert menu. “Buy me a double chocolate sundae with whipped cream and nuts and lots of cherries, Joseph, and I’ll kill you if you tell Callie or Mike before I do. Lord, I don’t know what got into me.”
“I do.” Joseph grinned.
“Where were you hiding that wicked sense of humor while we were in Texas?’”
“I never mix work with pleasure.”
“Maybe you should.”
Maybe she was right, he thought. Since Maria’s death he’d taken himself entirely too seriously. The waitress came, and he ordered black coffee for himself and the sinfully rich concoction for Peg. Then he got straight to the point.
“Where’s Callie?” He saw Peg’s struggle with herself. “I’m not asking for secrets, Peg, nor even for particulars. I respect Callie’s privacy.”
“Lord, you don’t know how that relieves my mind. I’d hate to lie to a man who just bought me a thousand calories of sin.”
“Is she still in D.C.”
“Yes, she’s still here. And that’s all I’m telling you.”
“That’s all I want to know. Will you take her a message for me?”
“You know I will. I love being in the middle of things.”
Joseph scrawled his message on the napkin, then handed it to Peg.
“Thanks, Peg. If there’s anything I can ever do for you, let me know.”
Peg was quiet a long time, then she took both his hands and squeezed.
“Don’t break her heart, Joseph.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
C
allie spent the day in the botanical gardens. In D.C. that was as close as she could get to nature. Among the ferns and hosta lilies she found a sense of peace that evaded her in the hotel.
She didn’t request a guided tour. Callie was not searching for knowledge: she was searching for the truth within herself. She stayed until the gardens closed, and then she took a taxi back to the hotel.
Peg greeted her with soft hugs and cluckings of concern.
“I’m going to be fine,” Callie said.
“You don’t know what a relief that is to me. I worried about you today…and that’s not good for a woman in my condition.”
“What condition?”
“I’m going to have a baby.”
The news hit Callie like a blow to the solar plexus, and it took her a while to adjust.
“I didn’t mean to tell you, but…oh, I don’t know. I got one of those little kits and didn’t have the courage to use it till last night, and I haven’t even told Mike yet because I want to tell him face-to-face, but…gosh, news like that is too good to keep, don’t you think?”
“I do,” Callie said. “I’ve been selfish. Tonight we celebrate, and we’re going to talk about nothing but you.”
Callie meant that, too.
“Before you make any rash promises, I have something for you. From Joseph.”
Callie unfolded the napkin. Written in bold strokes, the message leaped out at her: Callie, I’m sorry. I want to tell you in person. Call me. Please. Joseph, Room 6l5.
She folded the note and tucked it into her pocket. “Let’s go, Peg.” She was determined to keep her word to Peg if it killed her.
But that didn’t keep her from scanning every crowd for a glimpse of a tall Sioux warrior who held her heart captive.
Joseph waited in his room all evening, but Callie didn’t call. He called downstairs and ordered room service, not because he was hungry but to be certain his phone was working.
The food sat untouched, while he read the latest publication from the National Institute of Virology. Before he went into the bathroom, he dragged the telephone as far as the cord would reach, then took a bath rather than a shower so he could hear the phone. If Callie called he didn’t want to trust her message to the hotel staff.
