by Janet Dailey
Chapter Six
"DID YOU HAVE ANY DIFFICULTY with the third quantitative problem?" When her question went unanswered, Julie glanced up from her papers to see the young girl staring vacantly into space. "Debbie?"
Debbie seemed to come back to the present with difficulty. "What did you say? I'm sorry I wasn't listening."
Julie observed a suggestion of strain in the usually optimistic face of her teenage pupil. The last couple of days Debbie seemed to have difficulty concentrating on the schoolwork. Julie wondered if she hadn't been overdoing it and tiring the girl.
"It doesn't matter." She shrugged away her initial question and smiled. "It's Friday, so why don't we end our classes an hour early?"
"Okay." It was an enthusiastic response.
Nibbling at the edge of her lower lip, Julie hesitated, then probed, "Is something bothering you, Debbie?"
"No, nothing." The reply was too quick to be the truth. As if sensing that, Debbie plucked at the ribbon of her bed jacket. A misty film of tears darkened her eyes and there was the faintest quivering of her chin. "I'm just so tired of being in this bed." Her voice was low and tight in an effort to keep out any tremor.
In the past, Debbie had made an occasional joking remark about her confinement, but never once had she felt sorry for herself. Compassion surged through Julie at the girl's plight.
"It won't be for much longer," she offered inadequately.
"I know." Furtively, Debbie wiped at a tear that had trickled from the corner of her eye, as if ashamed of it. "I'm lucky in a lot of ways. I mean, I'm going to be all right. Thanks to you, I'm not going to fall behind in school. And my friends come to see me as often as they can. It's just that—"
Julie thought she understood. "It's just that it's Friday night, right?"
Debbie managed a tremulous smile and nodded, "Yes. All my friends have a date tonight. Ruel has a date tonight. Even you do, Julie."
Something hardened inside Julie. For some reason, she didn't want to know how Ruel Chandler intended to spend his evening. She tried not to let it show.
"That's the ultimate defection, isn't it?" she teased. "Me having a date, too."
"Gosh, no! Why shouldn't you go out with a guy? I didn't mean to make you feel guilty," Debbie insisted, her face reddening with chagrin.
"I know you didn't, Debbie." Julie smiled her understanding. "I wish I could be your fairy godmother and wave my magic wand and whisk you off to a ball tonight."
"That would be something, wouldn't it?" Debbie managed a laugh.
Setting the schoolwork aside, Julie continued in her effort to cheer the girl up. She had worked so closely with Debbie in the last month and a half that it was impossible not to be emotionally involved. Over the last two weeks or so, she had realized that she had begun to regard Debbie more as a younger sister than a student. She wasn't certain that was a good thing, but it was too late to do anything about it now.
When Emily looked in on her niece at half-past four the depressed mood had vanished and Debbie was again her optimistic, smiling self. Julie left the two of them to chat, as they usually did at the end of school time, and went to her room.
Promptly at eight, Julie decided what to wear. Since informality seemed to be the keynote in Hawaii, she had chosen a pair of white denims and a v-necked long-sleeved pullover in midnight blue velour.
Frank arrived precisely on time. Instead of the dune buggy, this time he was driving a van—a fact of which Emily Harmon took due note and on which expressed her opinion about such modes of transportation.
"I've heard that they usually have beds in the back of those vans," she informed Julie. "They're little more than motel rooms on wheels."
"That isn't altogether true." It was an effort to keep from smiling at Emily's motherly concern. "Besides, I think I can take care of myself. You'll feel better after you meet Frank," Julie assured her as he knocked at the front door.
Emily looked skeptical, but some of it melted when Julie introduced her to Frank. He was polite and courteous, but subtly charming. As Julie had found, it was difficult not to like him.
Once outside, he ran an admiring eye over her and voiced his approval of her outfit. "You look terrific, California!"
Her choice was appropriate since he was taking her to a beach party one of his friends was having. Practically everyone was there when they arrived. A bonfire was blazing on the otherwise deserted beach. Overhead the sky was studded with stars while a full moon glistened on the ocean waves. The tradewinds rustled through the needles of a stand of ironwood trees and sent the palm trees swaying. Music came from a transistor radio perched on a piece of driftwood.
After some initial ribbing of Frank about his "California" girl, they were drawn into the circle seated on the sand around the fire. One couple was popping popcorn over the open flames. A bag of marshmallows and sticks were making the circuit around the fire, with each person helping themselves and roasting their own. In addition to these refreshments, there was a ice chest filled with beer.
It was a fun-loving group with a lot of laughing and talking and story telling going on. Julie had no difficulty mixing in. She found herself liking Frank's friends as much as she liked him. At first she had been apprehensive that as the evening wore on couples would begin to drift into the privacy of the night's darkness, creating an awkward situation. The hour grew later, but no one wandered into the shady retreat of the ironwood trees behind the stretch of beach.
The mood grew more mellow. Like other couples, Julie was leaning against Frank, her shoulders resting against his chest while his arms circled her waist. Occasionally he would nuzzle her neck, or, when she'd turn to say something to him, he would steal a kiss from her. But the exchange never became heated.
A little after midnight they ran out of firewood and beer and the party began breaking up. Frank didn't suggest they go elsewhere when they left, as if sensing that Julie would have refused anyway.
In the driveway, they sat in the van and talked for a while, the separated bucket seats making closer contact difficult. Finally Julie said it was time she went inside and Frank walked her to the steps. There they stopped to say their good-nights.
"I don't remember when I've done so little and enjoyed an evening so much. It must have been the company," Frank said as she turned to face him.
"Maybe it was the beer," Julie mocked.
"I'm not drunk," he stated quietly.
"No," she agreed. He'd had a few beers, but he wasn't drunk. "I enjoyed myself tonight, too."
When his head bent toward her, she lifted hers expectantly for his kiss, her hands sliding around his trim waist. His mouth was firm and eager against her lips. Julie responded to its pressure, letting his arms engulf her in his embrace. It was a long, lingering kiss, sweet in its intensity.
Frank continued to hold her close, murmuring against her cheek, "I wish the evening was just getting started."
"Mmmm, unfortunately it's morning already," she breathed, and made an attempt to move out of his arms.
"Don't go in, Julie." His hold tightened. "Not yet."
When she lifted her head to insist, his kiss silenced the words on her lips. At first, Julie submitted to his demands, not resisting when he pushed the silken length of her hair away from her neck and explored its curve. Instead of satisfying his ardor, she was fueling it. As his hands attempted to mould her more fully to his length, she strained to obtain a breathing space.
"Frank, please, I have to go in now." Her protest was gentle but firm.
"Not yet, honey," he insisted, and attempted to sweep her resistance aside with another passionate kiss, but this time Julie turned her face away.
Wedging her arms against his chest, she gained a little room between them. Frank continued in his attempt to change her mind. Denied her lips, he satisfied himself with the hollow below her ear. Julie didn't feel threatened by his persistence. She had warded off more serious advances in the past and felt perfectly capable of doing so again.
/> "That's enough, Frank." As she arched away from him, drawing her head back so he could see by her expression that she meant it, a car entered the circular drive, bathing the couple in the glare of its headlights and momentarily blinding Julie.
She recognized the sleek black sports car Ruel Chandler drove. It growled softly up the drive, looking like a prowling jungle creature with its shining eyes. By the time it had stopped behind the van, Frank had let her go. He shifted guiltily as if they had been caught doing something they shouldn't, and Julie could tell that he was suddenly very anxious to be gone. She felt a rush of impatience toward him.
"It's getting late. I'd better go," he said as he heard the car door open. He kept his voice low as if he didn't want to risk being overheard. "I'll call you, okay?"
"Sure," she agreed tightly, but Frank was already moving toward the van. Julie doubted if he had even heard her answer.
Ruel was approaching the steps where she stood. As guiltily as Frank had behaved, Julie was determined to stand her ground. She schooled her expression to be passive. After the briefest inspection of her face, Ruel paused beside her and turned to watch the van driving away.
"It seems I arrived just in time," he observed negligently.
He stood so tall beside her and so reserved that Julie felt a shiver of intimidation. Drawing herself up to her full height, she confronted him.
"I don't know what you mean by that," she retorted.
There was a hint of steel in his gaze. "Don't you? You seemed to be in some difficulty when I drove up."
"You were mistaken, Mr. Chandler," she returned coldly. "It was nothing I couldn't handle. Nothing I haven't handled before."
"Perhaps you'll be more selective in your choice of dates in the future. Beachboys are rarely satisfied with just kisses."
The arrogance of his attitude ignited her temper. "What about you? Are you satisfied with just kisses?" she challenged. "You had a date tonight. Tell me, were you content with kisses she gave willingly, or did you seduce her?"
His eyes narrowed to cold blue slits. "I wasn't discussing my personal affairs, Miss Lancaster."
"You're a hypocrite!" Julie declared. ''You're condemning Frank for behaving the way any normal, red-blooded male would, and warning me to stay away from him, but I can bet your behavior has hardly been exemplary."
"It's amazing." His mouth quirked, but with a kind of dangerous amusement. "I express concern for the reputation and well-being of a young woman who is staying in my house, and in return I'm insulted?"
"You're neither interested nor concerned about what happened to me," Julie flared. "The fact that I'm living under the same roof as you are is purely incidental. You're only grabbing at it to defend yourself."
"I think I'm finally beginning to understand what you're really saying." Ruel eyed her complacently.
"Are you? I doubt it!" she snapped.
"Your ego is bruised."
His response so astounded her that Julie could only laugh out a startled, "What?"
"You're a very attractive woman, and you've probably been waiting for me to make a pass at you. Because I haven't, because I've chosen to respect you as a guest in my home, you're angry and hurt," he explained in a disgustingly reasoning tone.
For a moment Julie was so incensed she could hardly speak. She was trembling with the force of her anger. Her long fingers curled into the palms of her hands, turning them into fists clenched rigidly at her sides.
"How typically chauvinistic!" she sputtered at last. "Because I question you about what you expect from the woman you date, you think it's because I want to be one of them. If it weren't so pathetic, it would be funny!"
Spinning on her heel, Julie started up the steps, not trusting herself a minute longer in his company. The urge was too great to slap at that arrogantly male face. Before her foot touched the third step, an iron hand clamped itself on her arm and forced her around. On the steps, she was eye level with him, and there was something ruthless written in his tanned face that started palpitations in her chest.
"Pathetic and funny?" Ruel taunted Julie with her words. When she attempted to pull out of his grip, he simply seized her other arm and held both captive. "Do you think I haven't noticed the way you've been watching me? Do you think I haven't recognized that look in your eye? I've seen that same look of curiosity before in other women. Whether you're willing to admit it or not, you've wondered what it would be like if I kissed you."
"That isn't true!" Julie denied, and fought back a niggling doubt.
Her gaze was drawn to the savagely thin line of his mouth. She remembered that time in the garden when he had talked about flowers and bees and pollination. She experienced that same shooting sensation of danger, also that same heady excitement. He would be a hard, demanding lover, and altogether satisfying.
"Isn't it true?" The glitter in his blue eyes mocked her, as if he were capable of reading her thoughts. "You aren't the least bit interested in being kissed by me?"
"No." But it came out breathless, with little conviction behind it.
She could almost hear his silent laugh. His fingers tightened on her arm, giving her only a second's warning of his intention. Her hands came up to spread across his chest, but were trapped there as Ruel gathered her inside the steel band of his arms.
To struggle would be humiliating and useless. Julie made no further attempt to fight him, nor elude the mouth aggressively seeking out the softness of her lips. Warm and moist, it opened over hers to devour its fullness. The kiss was totally possessing, erasing from her memory the ardency of Frank's kisses that had preceded this one by only minutes.
Frank's kisses had evoked a desire to respond, but the fierce sensuality of Ruel's kiss evoked only desire. The hard vitality of his muscular embrace seemed to burn through her, melting her into pliancy. Passion became a living thing that flamed between them. Her fingers inched up his shirt, working her arms free of their entrapment to circle his neck. She felt the satisfying crush of her breasts against the hard wall of his chest. She tried to arch closer still and lost her balance on the step.
There was little distance to fall. Encircled by his arms as she was, there wasn't any risk of falling. But the few inches she moved was sufficient to break off the kiss. When she opened her dazed eyes, her feet were on the same level with his and her head tilted back. His chiseled male face was above hers. Satisfaction at being proved right glittered in his eyes as well as the fire of desire.
When his head bent toward hers, Julie rose on tiptoe to meet him halfway. It seemed impossible, but the second kiss was more electrifying than the one before. Now that there was no more need to force her into compliance, his hands spread over her lower spine to fit her curves more fully against his male contours, and Julie gloried in the differences between them.
Her lips parted under the probing demand of his. The caress of his hands was creating an urgency within her that she had never experienced before. She clung to him, her fingers sliding into his thick hair, pressing his mouth more firmly against her own, finding ecstasy in the pain of wanting.
An uncontrollable shudder of need hammered through her when his hand slipped under her sweater and encountered her bare flesh. It was fire against fire—their body heat consuming each other. His hand sought and found her breast, cupping it in his palm. Her heart ran away with itself, beating so fast that its number couldn't be counted. She no longer had dominion over her heart or her soul.
"Ruel? Ruel, is that you?" Emily Harmon's imperious voice broke the stillness of the night. It came from somewhere above them and ripped their kiss apart. "Ruel?"
His hand pressed Julie's face against his shirt as if to silence any outcry from her. "Yes, Em, it's me," he answered.
The part of her mind that could think marveled at his control. She doubted if she had the strength to speak. She was aware of the way her body was trembling against his—not from fear, but she wondered if he thought so.
"I thought I heard you drive in a whi
le ago. What are you doing out there?" his aunt demanded.
With her senses behaving more rationally, Julie was able to tell that Emily Harmon was speaking from a second floor window. The shadows of the front lanai concealed the two of them from her view.
"Having a cigarette," Ruel answered. "It's late, Em. You should be in bed. You need your rest."
"So do you," was the snappish reply, followed almost immediately by a sigh, "Julie hasn't come home yet. I'm worried about her. We don't know anything about that young man she went out with. He—"
"Julie is here," he interrupted.
"Julie is here?" There was disbelief in the woman's voice.
"Yes, she came back the same time I did," Ruel said truthfully, and slowly loosened his hold of her. "She's here on the steps with me."
"Julie?"
"Yes, M . . ." Her first attempt to answer was so weak that she had to clear her throat and try again. "Yes, Miss Emily."
"You're home!" the woman declared now that she had the evidence with her own ears.
"Yes, I got back a little while ago." Julie stole a glance at Ruel, who was now standing a full step away from her. He was lighting a cigarette, and in the flame, his face betrayed no emotion. The torrid embrace did not seem to have shattered him the way it had her.
"Good." Emily Harmon sounded uncertain, as if she felt there was something more she should say, but she didn't know what. "I'll turn in now. Don't you two stay out there too long. It's late."
"We'll . . . we'll be in directly," Julie promised.
Her words were followed by a silence—a tense silence. Ruel shook a cigarette partially out of its pack and offered it to her, but she shook her head in wordless refusal and he replaced the pack in his shirt pocket.
