Love Me or Leave Me

by Gwynne Forster

  “Oh, come on, Alexis. You’ve nurtured all of us. Ask Henry what he wants me to bring him from Texas.”

  “I’ll ask him, but you may be sorry.”

  “No, I won’t. I’d do anything for Henry. Call me on my cell before eight o’clock your time. I have to leave about forty-five minutes after that for the ball Cooper’s giving tonight.”

  “A ball? Who are you escorting?”

  He was going to get a real bang out of this, so much so that he could hardly keep the laughter out of his voice when he answered. “Pamela.”

  “What? You took her with you?”

  “No. I didn’t. This is her home. Either you or Henry call me.”

  “But you can’t drop a bomb like that one and hang up.”

  “Sorry, sis, but I’ve got to get to the pool. Bye.”

  He hung up and enjoyed the best laugh he’d had all day. Running down the stairs to the back of the house where the swimming pool was located, he was glad he’d brought a decent swimsuit and not the scanty thing he usually wore on the beach. Even so, he didn’t feel overdressed. He walked out to the edge of the pool, decided not to dive, but walked down the winding steps until the water reached his waist and kicked off. Winded after three laps in the Olympic-size pool, he swam to the edge, pulled himself up and sat down.

  Almost at once, he was joined by a woman in the skimpiest of bikinis. A red one. “You’re a very graceful swimmer,” she began. “I was fascinated.”

  He didn’t like aggressive strangers—male or female—and he was of a mind to tell her so when she said, “And those biceps aren’t bad, either. In fact…” She reached out to test the muscle with her hand.

  For a minute he battled with his upbringing, wanting to insult her, but was disciplined never to do that. However, he couldn’t resist an unfriendly glare and a parting shot. “I’m a man, not a toy,” he said, rose and walked back to the house with her loud gasp ringing in his ears. “You’re lucky that I’m a guest here,” he said aloud to himself. With time to spare, he showered and telephoned Selena, using his cell phone.

  “I’m wearing a tuxedo to the ball,” he said when she answered, “and I’d rather not eat dinner in it. How may I dress for dinner?”

  “We won’t dress for the ball until after dinner, so come as casual as you like. By the way, one of my friends, Deana Smith, wants to meet you. She’s coming to the ball alone. Interested?”

  “Thanks for not springing that on me at the ball. I’m escorting Pamela Langford, and she’s all the company I want.”

  “Really? Pamela didn’t tell me that. That’s wonderful. We’re close friends. Did you meet her today, or did you know her before you came?”

  If she wanted the details, she could get them from her husband. “I’ve known her for a while, and she’s…she’s very special to me.” Her deep velvet-toned laugh raised his antenna. “What’s amusing, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Plenty. I hope Pamela wears her boxing gloves. Half the single women there will be ready to pounce. I’ve lost track of the ones who badgered me today for an introduction to you.”

  Hmm. “I must say these women are more aggressive than I’m used to. They don’t waste time making their wishes known.”

  This time she laughed outright. “Some of the men are even more adept at that. They’ll crowd you until you tell them to back off. I’ll keep an eye out tonight to make sure you two have fun. The women will be after you, and the men will be after Pamela, so when the orchestra announces a tag dance, don’t give her up. You can bet Pamela isn’t going to give you up when the women tag.”

  “Thanks for the warning. It ought to be fun. I’m looking forward to it.” He was also looking forward to meeting Pamela’s parents.

  However, when he knocked on her door, it was Pamela who opened it, a vision in a rose-colored off-the-shoulder sheath with a matching silk-and-lace stole. “You’re beautiful, and you look so lovely in this dress,” he told her, and waited for her to ask him to come in.

  “I’m ready,” she said, and then as if she were seeing him for the first time, her eyes widened. “Drake, my goodness! You ought to see yourself in that tux. I feel like a princess going out with you tonight.”

  A smile lit up his face, and he leaned over and kissed her quickly on her mouth. “You are a princess, and you know how to make a guy feel great. Thanks for the compliment.”

  He didn’t pray often, but he said a silent prayer then that nothing would happen to blight the beauty of the day. For the first time in a long while, he felt at peace with himself about his life and every important person or thing in it.

  “My coach awaits us, Cinderella,” he said. “Let’s go to the ball.”

  Chapter 6

  Almost as soon as the orchestra leader’s downbeat was heard, Drake had reason to appreciate Selena’s earlier explanation of protocol for tag dancing. Without waiting for the signal that tag was appropriate—and it never is for the first dance—John Langford strode directly to Pamela and, as if Drake weren’t standing there, asked her for the dance.

  “I deferred to him yesterday,” John said to Pamela, “but not tonight.”

  “You will either defer now,” Drake said, “or we’ll step outside and settle it.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Pamela said. “I won’t dance with you, John. Drake is my man, and that’s why I’m with him.”

  “Do you know what you said?” John asked her, his face dark with a thunderous expression.

  “Of course I know what I said. Do you want me to make it plainer?”

  The man seemed to lose an inch of the height that brought him to within a fraction of Drake’s six foot four, and his obvious pain revealed itself in his ashen face. He turned and walked away minus the vigor and purpose with which he had joined them.

  Drake studied the sag of the man’s shoulders, his entire demeanor broadcasting defeat. But he had no sympathy for John Langford; a man was foolish to make demands of a woman unless he was entitled to do so.

  “Selena told me that cutting in is allowed when the orchestra leader announces a tag dance. Why would he do that if there’s nothing between you?”

  “Whenever I come to visit my parents, he drives me around, takes me wherever I want to go and is…well, a good friend. But I think I’ve misunderstood his motives.”

  “You certainly have, and he intended for you to misunderstand, hoping to present you with a fait accompli. You’ll have to figure out a way to handle him.”

  “I think it’s dishonest for a man to camouflage his intentions.” Suddenly, as if all thoughts of John had vanished, her face lit up with a smile. “You…uh… Did you mind when I said you were my man? It wasn’t my intention to obligate you. I just wanted to avoid further unpleasantness.”

  “You just wanted to… Why would I mind? I thought you meant it.”

  Her right eyebrow rose slowly. “You think I’d announce a thing like that to anybody? I mean anybody? It implied something that isn’t true. And even if it didn’t, it’s too much like street talk for my taste. But he was acting out, and I knew that would put a stop to it. For Pete’s sake, what are you laughing at?” she asked, glaring at him and no longer on the defensive.

  He took her arm and walked away from the two women who approached them. “I was laughing because you’re uptight about what Cousin John will think. You told the truth. I am your man, and what that implies will come, and very soon.”

  Her hands went toward her hips, and he smothered a laugh. “Now, I know we don’t put our hands on our hips in public.”

  “You’re going to get yourself into trouble, Drake Harrington.”

  The first strains of “Sophisticated Lady” wailed from an alto saxophone, and he opened his arms to her for their very first dance. “If it’s the kind of trouble you’ve been giving me all day, I’ll welcome it.”

  She didn’t speak, for the feeling of his hand on the bare flesh of her back sent shivers throughout her body, and something like pinpricks da
nced up and down her spine. He held her a little closer, and she missed a step. As if he knew how his nearness made her feel, he stepped back a bit while continuing the dance, moving his hips in a dazzling rhythm.

  She looked at him and nearly lost her balance, jolted by the naked need in his eyes. He pulled her back into him, wrapped both arms around her and danced a slow one-step. “People are looking at us,” she whispered, mostly out of nervousness.

  “Let them. I’m claiming every one of your dances right now, tag or no tag. Do you understand?”

  What could she say? His famous charm and charisma were not on display, and his face—indeed, his entire manner—bore all the seriousness of a judge sentencing a convicted criminal.

  “Do you understand me?” he repeated.

  She stepped back and looked him in the eye. “I don’t want to dance with anyone else. If this is the way you want it, remember that you don’t dance tag with the women, either.”

  He grinned, then winked at her. “I hadn’t planned to.”

  She was going to let him know that he couldn’t snow her, that even if he’d mesmerized her, she still had a sound mind. “You’ve got a lot to live up to. All day, you’ve been making promises and demands, and I’m keeping score.”

  His hand rubbed her back, and she gave him a censoring look. His response was a show of his glistening white teeth. “I couldn’t rub anything else and I had to rub something, so I did the decent thing and rubbed your back.”

  She didn’t risk looking at him, because she suspected that he had wrapped a halo of innocence about himself. I don’t know this man, she thought. I see so much in him and about him that I love, and I’m just learning that he can be devilish.

  “Are you priming me for something?”

  That time, he missed a step. “You bet your life I am.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  The saxophonist wailed the last notes of the scintillating song, and Drake walked with her over to the door and looked at his invitation. “We’re at table seven.”

  After they’d seated themselves, a waiter arrived with a tray of assorted drinks. Pamela accepted a gin and tonic, and Drake took a glass of lemonade. “I have to get you safely home,” he explained. “Besides, if I’m going to dance, alcohol is a no-no. It guarantees that I’ll be drenched with perspiration.”

  He took a few sips of lemonade. “If you didn’t mean what I meant, what did you mean?”

  “I meant… You don’t have to know everything,” she said, seeing the twinkle in his eyes and knowing that he was laughing at her.

  “At least you had the grace not to fabricate something,” he said. “How about going riding with me tomorrow morning? I’m sure Cooper won’t object. He told me you love to ride.”

  “I do. I learned to ride a pony when I was eight, and I’ve been riding ever since.”

  From her eager expression, he knew she would be a wonderful riding companion. “I love horses,” he told her, “and I have a stallion that I board at a commercial stable. I’d like to know all the things we have in common so I can exploit that information.”

  She reached out and touched his arm. “Drake, don’t move so fast. Give yourself space to back up. When I woke up this morning, I was trying to clear you out of my mind. I had decided to forget about men, and to find a child that needed me and adopt. Now, you—”

  “You decided to do what?”

  “Forget about men and marriage and adopt a child. That’s what I said. I could have my own, but I don’t think it’s appropriate for a woman in my position, a public figure, to give birth unless she’s married.”

  She could see that she’d stunned him. Maybe now he’d realize the depth of her need to experience motherhood.

  The waiter brought a tray of broiled chicken livers wrapped in bacon, and he waved it away almost as if he hadn’t seen it. “You can’t do that. Why on earth would you do a thing like that? Children need both parents.”

  “If they have both, they’re lucky. If they don’t, they manage,” she said. “I’ve made up my mind. I’ve met several men recently who I thought would make good fathers, but I couldn’t stand the thought of being intimate with them. So I’ve given up the idea of having my own child, and I’m going to adopt one who needs me.” To let him know she meant what she said, she gave him a level look and didn’t waver her gaze.

  He leaned forward with both palms pressed against the tabletop and glared at her. “Are you telling me that you’ve been going out with guys, looking for one you could sleep with?”

  “Can you think of another way for a woman to get pregnant, except for artificial insemination, which wouldn’t be any fun?”

  He continued to stare at her as if he’d been struck dumb. Then he said, “Hell! If you want a baby, dammit, I’ll give you one.”

  She began to enjoy his rising furor, the set of his jaw as he ground his teeth and the flair of his nostrils giving evidence that his mind had begun to play tricks on him. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m sure you’d fill the requirements of both lover and father very nicely, but as long as I’m single, any weight I gain will come from the calories I ingest.”

  “You may think this is amusing,” he growled, “but I definitely do not.”

  She lifted her right shoulder in quick, dismissive shrug. “Amusing? Please tell me how giving up a cherished idea, a lifelong dream, could be amusing. If anything, it makes me want to bawl.”

  It was as if his countenance darkened when a frown creased his face and he reached toward her, then let his hand fall to the table. “Let’s… Let’s dance.” He got up from his chair. “Dance with me.”

  She rose slowly, knowing what would happen when he opened his arms and she walked into them. She didn’t know what step the other dancers were doing, for her gaze was locked with his. Her body swung to his rhythm, slowly, without regard to the dance style of the time. She caught her breath when his hand moved up to her bare back, and knew he saw her reaction. His aura captivated her as a hook snares a fish, and she submitted to his will and his moves until they danced as one. After a time, she stood on the dance floor locked to him, unaware that the music had stopped, for the tune that she heard in her heart played on.

  “Want to wait for the next one?” he whispered. “Or would you rather go back to our table?”

  She looked around. “People are staring at us. I…uh, guess we should go back to our table. Oops! Did you hear that?”

  “Yeah. I heard it, but I’m not playing tag tonight.”

  A man approached their table. “May I have this dance, miss?”

  “I’m from Maryland,” Drake said, “and up there we don’t do this.” As the words left his mouth, a hand tapped his shoulder.

  “Tag,” the woman said.

  “He and I have an agreement,” Pamela said. “He doesn’t want me to leave him, so I demand that he not leave me. Sorry.”

  The woman’s eyes bulged, and she glared at Pamela. “That’s not the way it goes. This is a tag dance.”

  “If we argue about it long enough,” Drake said with a note of optimism in his voice, “the dance will be over. I’m sorry, ma’am. This gentleman is looking for a partner, too, so I suggest the two of you dance.”

  “I…I’ve never heard of such a thing,” the woman sputtered.

  With his apologetic expression, he begged the woman’s forgiveness. “I’m a man of my word, and I promised her that I wouldn’t ask of her any more than I was prepared to give.”

  “Now, we can’t dance except with each other, Drake, and these people are going to give us a hard time. Before the evening is over, we’ll have to explain at least fifty times why we aren’t playing tag.”

  He winked at her and a grin formed around his mouth. “Fine with me. I can be very creative. For example, your foot just came out of a cast yesterday morning, or I could say I’ve been after you for so long that I’m not about to yield you to another man, tag or no tag. I’d prefer the latter.”

  “Well, I don’
t.”

  “I have a better idea. Let’s say our goodbyes to our hosts and get out of here. If they have any sort of imagination, they’ll understand. If they don’t, we’ll give ’em the story about your foot and the cast that came off it.”

  He said it without any semblance of a smile. The longer she looked at him—wearing a look of expectancy as he waited for her response—the closer she came to expelling the laughter that she could barely control.

  “You are not serious,” she said.

  “No? Then I’m not Drake Harrington, either. What do you say?”

  “I’m all dressed up, and you’re going to take me home and leave me there?”

  He looked toward the ceiling as if begging for patience. “If we were in Baltimore, you wouldn’t dare ask me that.”

  The orchestra leader said, “Tag,” and hit the downbeat for the first reggae number of the evening. She nearly laughed at the terror on Drake’s face when a buxom woman with all but her aureoles revealed by her deep décolletage knocked over her chair as she rushed to Drake.

  “Tag,” the woman said, tapping his shoulder.

  He looked at Pamela for help, and she wanted to remind him of his creativity, but the look of desperation on his face told her she had better not do it. “We were just leaving,” she said. “He’s not quite himself.”

  The woman glared at Pamela. “I guess you’d know. He looked like himself when the two of you all but went at it during that last dance.” Then she shrugged. “I can’t say I blame you, sis. If he was mine, I wouldn’t let him out of the house.” She sashayed off and successfully tagged another man.

  “Whew.” He made a ceremony of wiping his brow. “I really do want to leave, but I think we should thank Magnus and Selena before we go.”

  She agreed. “Something tells me these women frighten you.”

  “I wouldn’t take it that far, but I hate being treated like a thing.”