She’d been warned, by Jim and by Ashe, that Prater’s strategy would be to bring her to tears, show her to be a highly emotional, hysterical woman, who had allowed her hysteria and fear to wrongly identify Lon Sparks.
Not one tear fell from her eyes. Not one shrill word escaped her lips. When her nerves rioted, she took deep breaths and looked to Ashe, seeking and finding the strength she needed to do the job she and she alone could do.
When she was dismissed, Deborah stepped down and walked slowly toward Ashe, who stood and waited for her. He slipped his arm around her and led her out of the courtroom. Even the bevy of reporters flinging questions at her did not disturb the serenity she felt as Ashe led her downstairs and out of the courthouse.
Neither of them said a word until they were safely inside Deborah’s car. Ashe buckled her seat belt, kissed her on the nose and smiled at her.
“It’s over.” She sighed. “It’s really over.”
“Yeah, honey, it’s over.” But Ashe wasn’t sure. Not one incident of harassment had occurred since Huckleberry’s poisoning two days ago, and that made Ashe all the more suspicious. Buck Stansell should have escalated his threats the closer the day came for Deborah to testify. But he hadn’t. He hadn’t done anything. Did that mean he was waiting to take revenge? Hell!
Deborah checked her watch. “We have time to make the last half of Allen’s soccer game, don’t we?”
“That’s where I’m headed.” Ashe maneuvered the Caddy out of the parking lot and onto Water Street.
Leaning against the cushioned headrest, Deborah closed her eyes. Ashe reached out and took her hand, squeezing it tightly. She smiled, but didn’t open her eyes or speak. She felt such a great sense of relief.
She had done the right thing, despite being afraid. She had faced the devil—and won! Now, all she had to face were her own personal demons, the biggest lie in her life. She’d had the courage to stand up against Buck Stansell and his gang, but did she have the guts to tell Ashe the truth about Allen? She knew now that she’d been wrong to keep his son’s existence a secret from him all these years. Despite her own feelings, her deep sense of betrayal and rejection, she should have contacted Ashe long ago. Mama Mattie would have given her his phone number or address if only she’d asked.
But what would telling Ashe the truth now do to their new relationship? Although he had promised her nothing permanent, had made no commitment to her, she knew he truly cared about her. She, and she alone, was the woman he wanted. Would it be so wrong to wait, to take what time she had left with Ashe and savor the joy she felt, the mutual passion and desire?
“Are you sure you’re up to this?” Ashe parked the Cadillac behind a row of cars lined up along the shoulder of Avalon Avenue, west of the railroad tracks that separated Muscle Shoals from Tuscumbia and Sheffield.
“The worst is over. Right? There’s no reason why I can’t resume my normal activities, is there?”
“Deborah…” Dear God, he didn’t want to tell her that he thought the worst might not be over, that the worst might be yet to come. But he would not lie to her. “We can’t be sure what Buck Stansell might do if Lon Sparks is convicted.”
“You’re saying it isn’t over.” She clutched her shoulder bag to her stomach. “You think he might try to kill me after the trial ends, don’t you?”
“There’s no way to know.” Ashe grasped her shoulder, urging her to turn to him. “But my guess is that you’re safe until the jury reaches a verdict.”
She leaned toward him, wanting to fall into his arms, wanting and needing his comfort and reassurance. But this was hardly the time or the place. “Then I’m going to try not to think about it, for now. I don’t know how much more Mother and Allen can take. I can’t bear to think what it would have done to Allen if Huckleberry had died.”
“Don’t think about it. Huckleberry is as good as new,” Ashe said. “Come on, let’s go cheer for the home team.”
Deborah and Ashe joined Carol Vaughn and Simon Roarke on the sidelines of a tense soccer game between two sets of ten- to twelve-year-olds. Carol had built herself a comfortable nest around her folding lawn chair. She sat with a plaid blanket wrapped about her legs, a thermos of hot coffee at her side. Roarke stood directly behind her chair, his gaze moving around the crowd, then back to the soccer game where Allen Vaughn raced down the field, his long, strong legs moving with agile grace.
Roarke stepped aside when Deborah laid her hand on her mother’s shoulder. Ashe nodded, motioning to Roarke.
“How’s the game going?” Deborah asked.
“We’re ahead,” Carol said. “Two to one.”
Deborah glanced at the sky. “It’s getting cloudy and the wind’s up. I hope it doesn’t start raining.”
“Where’s your coat?” Carol asked.
“I didn’t wear one today. Just my suit. But don’t worry, I’m fine.”
“Mothers worry.”
“I’m okay. Really. Everything is going to be all right.”
Ashe and Roarke moved away from the crowd, close enough to keep an eye on everyone and yet far enough away to have a private discussion.
“We’re going to be staying for at least another couple of weeks,” Ashe said. “If we’re lucky, this will be over when the trail ends, but my gut instincts tell me not to count on it.”
“A man could do a lot worse than living around here, spending the rest of his life in a small town.” Roarke’s dark gaze came to a halt on Allen Vaughn as the boy kicked the ball past the goalie and scored a point for his team.
Ashe slapped Roarke on the back. “Did you see that? Damn that boy’s good. He’s big and fast and strong and a real fighter. Look at his face. Good God, how I know that feeling. He’s lightheaded from the victory.”
“He reminds me of you,” Roarke said.
“What?”
“Allen Vaughn reminds me of you.”
“Hell, he’s just like Deborah. They could be twins.”
“I know he looks like Deborah, but the more I’m around the kid, the more he reminds me of you.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Ashe watched Allen, seeing nothing except his blond hair, his blue eyes, his strong physical resemblance to Deborah.
“When did you leave Sheffield and join the army?”
“When did I… Eleven years ago.”
“When exactly?”
“In July.”
Grunting, Roarke nodded. “Allen Vaughn was born in February. Seven months after you left town.”
“So?”
“Has it never once crossed your mind that you might have gotten Deborah pregnant, that Allen could be your son?”
Ashe’s body rebelled, tensing every muscle, bringing every nerve to full alert, knotting his stomach painfully. “She would have told me. Deborah never would have kept something like that from me. She was in love with me. If she’d been pregnant with my child, she would have come running to me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, dammit, I’m sure!”
“Then forget I said anything.”
“I sure as hell will.” Ashe glared at his friend, a man he had come to like and respect since their first meeting over a year ago. Roarke stood eye to eye with Ashe, the two equal in height and size, broad-shouldered, long-legged. Roarke, like Ashe himself, a former warrior, still in his prime.
“You want me to give Sam a call tonight and let him know we’ll be staying…indefinitely?” Roarke asked.
“No. This is my case. I’ll call Sam.” Ashe watched Allen, inspecting his every move with an analytical eye, searching for evidence to substantiate Roarke’s suspicion. “I’ll let him know we could be here for a few more weeks. Once I know Deborah is safe, we’ll head back to Atlanta.”
Dammit! Why couldn’t Roarke have kept his suspicions to himself? They were totally unfounded. They had to be! Not getting Deborah pregnant that long-ago night was the one and only thing Ashe hadn’t had to feel guilty about all these years. Allen Vaug
hn was Deborah’s brother, not her son. Most certainly not his son. No way in hell!
DINNER HAD BEEN a double celebration. Deborah’s court appearance was over and Allen Vaughn had once again scored the winning goal that led his team to victory.
Deborah and Ashe had allowed her family to believe the danger was over; indeed, Deborah convinced herself that there was hope all the threats and harassment had come to an end.
She had sensed a tension in Ashe she hadn’t noticed before tonight. He kept watching Allen and his close scrutiny unnerved her. Did he suspect something? Or was he simply worrying that Buck Stansell still posed a threat to her family, that Allen might be the target of the man’s revenge?
But then Ashe would look at her and his eyes would warm, his expression telling her plainly that he was remembering their lovemaking in the early morning hours. Yesterday. Less than forty-eight hours ago.
“I’m afraid I must say good-night.” Carol rose from her chair in the library. “Come along, Allen. It’s a half hour past your bedtime.”
“How about coming up with me, Ashe?” Allen asked. “You said you wanted to see my science test.”
“You bet I do. I want to see what you did to get 105% on that test instead of just a plain old 100%.” Ashe laid his hand on Allen’s shoulder and the two followed Miss Carol.
“Are you staying down here for a while?” Carol asked her daughter.
“Yes, I think I’ll fix myself a drink and relax a bit before I come up.”
“Don’t forget to say good-night,” Allen called out from the hallway.
“I won’t forget.”
Alone in the library, Deborah kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet up on the sofa. Suddenly she felt the man’s presence before she heard him clear his throat. Jerking her head around, she saw Simon Roarke standing in the doorway.
“Come on in, Mr. Roarke,” Deborah said. “Would you care for a drink?”
“No, thanks.” He walked over to the liquor cart. “May I fix something for you?”
“Just a little brandy.”
Roarke poured the liquor and handed it to Deborah. “This about right?”
“Perfect.” Deborah looked up at Simon Roarke, thinking, and not for the first time, that there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “Please, sit down and talk to me.”
“What do you want to talk about, Ms. Vaughn?”
“Call me Deborah. And I’d like to ask you about your friendship with Ashe.”
Roarke sat in the wing chair to Deborah’s left. “We’ve known each other a year. We have similar backgrounds and found we worked well together and enjoyed spending some of our off time together.”
“You were in the army, too?”
“Yeah.”
“How long have you worked for the Dundee Agency?”
“Over two years.”
“You aren’t married?”
“No.”
“Girlfriend?” Deborah asked.
“Neither Ashe nor I are in a committed relationship, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m sure he’s told you that.”
Deborah smiled. “I’m not very good at this, am I? Cross-examining you to get information about Ashe isn’t something I’d ordinarily do, but—”
“But you’re curious about Ashe. Why don’t you just ask him what you want to know?”
“Yes, that would be the logical thing to do, wouldn’t it?” Deborah slid her feet off the sofa and back into her shoes. “Did he tell you that we knew each other, years ago?”
“Yes.”
“You aren’t making this easy for me, Mr. Roarke.”
“Just Roarke,” he said. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you what you want to know. I’m not sure Ashe can tell you. He probably doesn’t even know himself.”
“Is it that obvious?” Deborah clasped her knees with her fingertips. “I made a mistake about the way Ashe felt about me once, and I don’t want to make another mistake.”
“You’re talking to the wrong man. I can’t speak for Ashe.” Roarke grunted, then chuckled softly. “Hell, I’m a failure when it comes to figuring out the way other people feel and think. I’m thirty-five. I’m alone, and I’ll be alone the rest of my life. Ashe is different. He’s not so far gone, the right woman couldn’t save him.”
Deborah took a sip of the brandy, then set the glass aside. “I like you, Roarke. I—”
“Allen is waiting for you to come up.” Ashe stood in the doorway, a rather comical look of jealousy on his face.
Deborah couldn’t suppress a gurgle of laughter from escaping.
Standing, Roarke took a couple of steps, leaned over, lifted Deborah’s hand and kissed it. “I like you, too, Deborah.” He walked past Ashe without glancing his way.
“What the hell was that all about?” Ashe asked.
“I was pumping Roarke for information about you.”
“That’s not what it sounded like when I walked in. Sounded more like a mutual admiration society.”
Deborah stood and walked over to Ashe, slipped her arm around his neck and pressed her body into his. “I like your friend Roarke.” She rubbed herself against Ashe. “But not the same way I like you.”
Ashe jerked her up against him and his lips covered hers, claiming her with demanding possession. Breathing hard, they ended the kiss, but held each other close.
“I want to make love to you,” he said. “Is there any way we can slip off somewhere? Anywhere?”
“Let me go up and say good-night to Allen, then I’ll meet you in the pool house in thirty minutes.”
“The pool house? Out back?”
“Yes. We’ll have all the privacy we want out there.”
Ashe laughed. “I don’t know if I can wait thirty minutes.”
“Let’s make it twenty minutes,” she said, pulling out of his arms.
“You aren’t afraid someone will find us out, using the pool house as a rendezvous?”
“I really don’t care, do you?”
“No, honey, I don’t give a damn who knows we’re lovers.”
DEBORAH SAW THE light in the pool house from where she stood on the back patio. Soft, shimmering light. Candles? Had Ashe found the candles left over from the last pool party they’d given back in the summer, the one for her mother’s garden club friends?
She straightened her green satin robe, readjusted the quilted lapels and tightened the sash belt. She told herself not to be nervous, that she had no reason to be. After all, it wasn’t as if she were a seventeen-year-old virgin.
Who was she kidding? She might not be a totally inexperienced teenager, but she was hardly accustomed to late-night rendezvous in the pool house with a virile, amorous lover. She couldn’t believe she was actually going to do this. But then she had never dreamed that she and Ashe would become lovers. Truly lovers.
She walked slowly toward the pool house, her heart hammering, her nerves quivering, her body filled with anticipation. Music met her as she hesitated in the doorway. An instrumental version of “The Shadow of Your Smile” surrounded her. Apparently he’d found the tape player and the stack of her mother’s favorite tunes on cassettes. He stood inside waiting for her, two glasses of wine in his hand. He held out one to her when she entered the small octagon-shaped shelter, centered directly behind the swimming pool.
Ashe had changed into a pair of faded jeans and a zippered fleece jacket. He looked incredible. All muscle and firm flesh, tanned and lean and waiting for her.
She accepted the wine. He nodded toward the padded pool-side chaise longue that had been stored for the winter. Seating herself, she glanced around inside the twelve-by-twelve-foot room. A dozen fat pink and yellow candles, half consumed on a previous occasion, circled the inner perimeter, casting a mellow, romantic glow over the room.
“To the most beautiful woman in the world.” Ashe saluted her with his glass.
Her smile wavered, but she managed to keep it in place after she took a sip of the white wine. “You’re beautiful, too, you know. You a
lways were. The most beautiful boy, the most beautiful man. I never could see anyone else except you.”
Hurriedly she downed the remainder of the wine. The tune changed to “What Are You Doing for the Rest of Your Life?” She’d heard her mother hum these old tunes for as long as she could remember. They were such romantic songs, meant to be shared by lovers.
Ashe took her empty glass. “Want a refill?”
“No.” She looked up at him. “I don’t dare drink any more. I’m already drunk from just looking at you.”
He set their glasses on a small round glass and metal table, then took Deborah’s hands and lifted her to her feet. Drawing her into his arms, he rubbed his cheek against hers and danced her slowly around the room.
“You don’t have any idea what your honesty does to me, do you?” He caught her open mouth before she could reply, thrusting his tongue inside, loving the taste of the wine that lingered in her mouth.
When he ended the kiss, he smiled when he saw her face. Eyes closed, face flushed, she was so beautiful it tore at his heart to look at her. “I can’t believe how much I want you.”
“Oh, Ashe, I never dreamed this could happen, that you and I… But it’s real, isn’t it? We’re here, together. Lovers.”
“Lovers, in every sense of the word.” Reaching down, he loosened her sash belt until her robe fell open. Seeing that she was naked beneath the green satin, he swallowed hard. “My God, Deborah!”
Her shaky fingers grasped the metal pull on his jacket zipper and opened the hooded blue sweatshirt. She laid her hand on his chest. He covered her hand with his.
“I don’t really know anything about this. I don’t have any experience. Teach me, Ashe. Show me what you want.”
“Take off my jacket,” he said.
She obeyed, sliding it off his shoulders and tossing it on the floor. “Now what?”
“Remove my jeans.”
Without hesitation, she unsnapped, unzipped and tugged off his jeans. He kicked his shoes off and to one side, then spread the satin robe away from her body, allowing it to fall to her feet.
They stood, only inches separating them, naked and unashamed, passion wild within them both. He took her hands in his, lifted them for a kiss, then placed them on his chest before lifting her in his arms.
Witness Page 17
