by Mae Nunn
“Would you mind if we went to my place instead? I’m enjoying this creative-juice thing, and I can offer you some therapy for that knee.”
She gave him that look again. He wondered if Jessica would be so unsure of herself if she knew the confusing emotions she stirred in his orderly mind. Amelia’s dark eyes glinted briefly through his thoughts—not as appealing as the jade ones he focused on now.
“What do you say?” he coaxed.
“Sure,” she agreed with a nervous sigh. “Got any diet cola in that fancy kitchen of yours?”
“Like a good scout, I’m always prepared.”
Half an hour later Jessica sat quietly next to Drew on the deep leather sofa. Her feet rested atop the coffee table. An ice pack slowly melted against her knee and all thoughts of wedding receptions were temporarily banished.
She’d been admiring the long legs that stretched out beside her own. Her insides fluttered at the sight of those legs, tightly encased in denim. She closed her eyes against the desire to reach out and lay her palm on the solid thigh.
It felt so good just to lean back against the soft leather. She should be planning, but the pleasant evening was a welcome change from the worries of recent months. The cushions shifted as Drew left her side. She glanced up to see him squat beside a CD tower.
“What have you got in that massive collection?”
“Everything but jazz. I never learned to appreciate it.”
There was silence as he loaded a disc, and then the sultry voice of a young Latino starlet floated across the room. Jessica closed her eyes again, enjoying the sense of total relaxation.
Drew’s words were murmured close to her ear. “I’m going to refill your ice pack.”
An agreeable “Mmm” was her only response as he padded up into the kitchen.
During the segue into the second song, Jessica heard the heavy weight of male feet descending the few steps, crossing the oak floor and stopping somewhere in front of her.
“Will you keep your eyes closed? No matter what?”
She smiled in her self-imposed darkness. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing your mother wouldn’t approve of.”
“In that case, you talked me into it.”
He deftly stepped one foot across her legs. She heard him push aside the heavy mahogany keepsake box and sit down on the sturdy table. Ice rattled inside the waterproof pack when he tossed it to the floor. “I’m going to touch your feet now.”
She scrunched her toes up and giggled. “My feet are ticklish.”
“I’m not going to tickle them. Just touch them. Okay?”
Jessica’s leg jerked involuntarily with the first jolt of sensation, but the immediate relief that followed was worth the effort it took to lean back and keep her eyes closed. She felt a warm hand lift her heel and position it securely atop his knee.
With sure motions he smoothed and kneaded the arch, always sore from so many years of abuse. Warm fingers slipped around and between her toes, coaxing the tight knuckles to pop softly. Work-toughened palms stroked in circular motions against the dancer’s calluses, pressing lotion into dry skin.
When he moved to the other foot, Jessica groaned her approval. “As Faith says, this is just the thing.”
Drew chuckled agreement.
He followed the same course of relaxing massage with her right foot and then began his slow climb toward her damaged knee. With confident motions he ran his thumbs alternately up the length of her strong calf, murmuring his appreciation for her muscle tone.
When his hands reached the surgical site, he hesitated.
“It’s ugly, isn’t it?”
“Your incision?”
She nodded, her mind’s eye seeing his grimace at the angry red scar, surrounded by permanent staple tracks.
“This little thing?” He blew out a puff of air, a sound of disagreement. “I’ve seen worse, trust me. Give it two years and it won’t be much more than a cat scratch.”
“You think?” She was hopeful.
“I’m certain of it.”
He placed her heel carefully atop the table and repositioned the ice pack.
Jessica felt his weight on the sofa as he sat beside her, his muscular thigh pressing near her own. Gently his hand eased behind her head to reach for her ponytail. Her thumping heart beat out a rhythmic reminder—he’s not free, he’s not free. But she didn’t resist when he lightly caressed the back of her neck and tugged away the cloth binder.
He buried his fingers in the softness and turned her face toward his. Drawn into his arms, she was spellbound by the power of his embrace.
Her heart drummed faster in her chest. He’s not free. He’s not free. The warning pounded in her ears.
She pulled away.
“I’m sorry to break this spell,” she said nervously, “but could I have some ice water?”
“You just had a soda.”
“Please?”
He pushed to his feet and busied himself in the kitchen.
“May I borrow your rest room?”
“As long as you don’t mind taking the stairs. I’m replacing the fixtures down here.” He gestured toward the small powder room.
Jessica eased off the sofa and climbed the flight to Drew’s master bath. She splashed cool water on her flushed face and ran his brush through her tousled hair. She stared at her wide-eyed reflection in the mirror, a shaking hand pressed against her chest as if that would slow the frantic beating.
The doorbell chimed downstairs.
Voices drifted upward.
“No, it’s okay. You wait right there and I’ll take you home.” Drew insisted.
“If I wanted to go home I’d have given the driver my own address. I went to a lot of trouble to get your security code. I want to stay here with you tonight and get reacquainted.”
Jessica recognized the imperious tone.
Amelia!
Chapter Nine
Flipping off the light and closing the door, Jessica groped in the darkness for the closet and quietly eased inside. Shivering nervously, she kept the door open just a crack to listen.
Drew’s voice grew louder as he neared the upstairs landing. Then feet drummed on the carpet as he marched Amelia back down the stairs. “Stop that! Sit down and behave. Just give me a minute.”
The closet door opened and closed softly. The overhead light blazed to life. Mortified, Jessica hid like a thief behind a long winter coat.
“What are you doing in here?” he whispered.
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m trying to save us both some embarrassment.”
“I’m sorry. I had no idea this would happen.”
“That makes two of us.” She pulled the coat closer.
“She shouldn’t be here.”
“She has a right to be here and I don’t.”
“Yes, you do. I invited you.”
“And now the party’s over. Get her out of here so I can go home!” she insisted.
“No. Come out of there and let’s go downstairs.”
“Are you crazy? She hates me and she’ll do everything in her power to get even with me if she finds out we’ve been alone, together, in your home.”
“You have a point,” he conceded.
Her head bobbed. “A sharp one. And I’ve had enough excitement for one day. I need to get some sleep so I can get started first thing tomorrow.”
“Listen, I’m going to be gone for the next few days,” he apologized. “But I’ll talk to you as soon as I can.”
“Oh, Captain Keeeeegan?” Amelia was pounding on his bathroom door.
He took a hesitant step toward Jessica. She waved him away, pulled the door closed and clicked off the light.
Jessica stood alone in the dark long after their voices had faded. Tears of frustration filled her eyes.
“Lord, whatever I did as a child to provoke You, isn’t losing everything I’ve worked for and gaining all this weight enough payback?” she demanded, her face tilted to
ward the ceiling. “How about helping me out here? For a change, can’t a guy be there for me? I really need to know there’s one man in this world I can depend on.”
She grabbed the hem of a sweater and swiped at her wet cheeks. Pressing it to her face, she caught the distinctly clean scent of Drew. A sigh, desperate with longing, escaped.
Hearing the low rumble of his car, she crept from the closet and down to the shadowy kitchen. She reached to retrieve her shoulder bag where it sat on a bar stool, her cane hooked over the wicker back. She realized that it was right out in the open.
There was no way it could have been overlooked by the unexpected visitor.
“Amelia, I have to be honest with you,” Drew insisted as they crossed the threshold into her apartment. “There’s no future in this relationship.”
It was as if she hadn’t heard a word he’d said on the twenty-minute drive through late-night Atlanta traffic.
“Let me change and then we’ll talk. Make yourself at home.” She tossed the words over a bony shoulder and disappeared down the hall.
That proved to be nearly impossible. The huge apartment lacked practically everything that fell within his “comforts of home” category. There was no television or CD collection. Only a very sophisticated cable sound system that seemed to be permanently set on the jazz channel. There were no magazines, no newspapers and no paperbacks lying about, as he’d seen in Jessica’s cluttered but cozy nest.
The place reminded him of a builder’s model. There were signs of life but no signs of living. Seeing Amelia’s home, the place that should most reflect her inner self, Drew was certain his decision to end the charade was justified. He wasn’t entirely sure of the Lord’s plan for him, but he knew God was steering him away from this woman.
After thirty minutes of waiting, his patience had reached its limit.
“Amelia?” he called out.
He cautiously made his way down the hallway.
“Amelia, are you okay?”
When there was still no answer, he began to wonder if she’d fallen asleep. Taught by his mother that a woman’s private space is sacrosanct, he knocked lightly on the door. It opened with a whoosh. A slender arm shot out, grabbed him by the bicep and urged him into the heavily scented room.
Amelia was draped in a black silk kimono, a deep V at the throat, tightly belted at the waist. She released him, stepped back and twirled seductively for his approval.
As she moved, the outline of her shoulder blades and the sharp points of her collarbone held his attention. The garment was unflattering. Survival instinct told him to keep his opinion to himself.
“Well?” She obviously expected a compliment.
“Well, I see you’ve changed. Let’s go talk in your living room.” He backed into the doorway.
“What’s your problem?” She slithered against him, sliding her hands over his chest.
Amelia was a beautiful woman and the unchallenged heiress to her father’s millions. She had the education and social background that made her an ideal catch. But everything about her repeated efforts to seduce him felt terribly wrong.
The cloying scent of her designer perfume stung his nostrils. He closed his eyes for an instant while his subconscious conjured up the memory of shampoo and potting soil. His heart hammered at the thought. If he had any doubts left, they fled at that moment.
He turned her by the shoulders and steered her down the hall toward the leopard-print sofa. After he gently forced her to sit he reached for a cashmere throw and draped it over her exposed legs. Crossing the room in long strides, he grabbed a dining-room chair, positioned it directly in front of her, sat and leaned forward.
“I need to settle this tonight, Amelia. I’ve given control over my life to God and I’m certain this is not the kind of relationship He wants for me.”
Dark eyes flashing, Amelia sat on the edge of the sofa and tossed the blanket onto the floor.
“Since when do you give up control of anything? If I recall correctly, your whole life has been built around being in control. Busting your tail at West Point and in the army so you could hold rank, all that Ranger and Air Assault training to learn your specialty, all the time you spent building a reputation so you’d be respected as a leader. A man in control. And now you want to give it all away?”
Drew straightened in the chair, surprised she’d paid any attention to his military background.
“Don’t you understand the rest of the country will see all that experience and potential, too? Drew, you’re a natural for the political arena. With your father’s guidance and my father’s financial support, there’s no chance you can lose.”
She reached across the space between them and squeezed his hand. “And with me at your side, we’ll be unstoppable.”
When he didn’t argue, she must have taken that as a positive sign, and she rushed on.
“The timing couldn’t be better, Drew. For years Nate Gadston had planned that after retirement he’d mentor my brother. Now the senator’s free, but Adam’s gone. We can step right into the best political guidance in Georgia. Inside of ten years we’ll be ready for a Senate seat. And beyond that, well, that would be up to us.”
He stared at Amelia, amazed at the passion in her voice as she put words to her own ambitions. He glanced down to where she still held his hand. There was no warmth in the touch.
“Amelia, Faith is the only reason I’m considering public service. If I can help make the future more secure for my sister and people like her, then it will all be worth it.”
“There you go. We already have our platform for our very first campaign.” She lifted her shoulders and her eyebrows in an anything-goes manner.
He paused, considering his next statement. “Faith will need a home when our father’s gone. Where do you expect her to live?”
“Well, certainly not with us, although a retarded sister would definitely be useful during a campaign.”
Drew was up and towering over Amelia so quickly that she leaned back against the sofa cushion to escape his glare.
“My sister’s condition is the result of a head injury. She is one of the bravest and most sensitive people I’ve ever known and I would never put her on display for personal gain.” He straightened and took a step back. “I’m sorry, Amelia. It was foolish of me to even consider this seriously.”
“You’re really going to throw in the towel so quickly?” she asked, eyes wide, clearly stunned by his decision.
“It’s more like reading the handwriting on the wall,” he replied. “I misjudged this situation completely. I was crazy to even consider that a relationship as important as marriage could be treated like a business arrangement.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Drew. More marriages would succeed if they were set up like a business deal. Happily ever after is just a fantasy. You have to have a plan, and the one my daddy is putting together for us is a sure bet.”
“I’m not a betting man.” He released an exasperated sigh. “But I am a tired one, so I’m leaving.”
“What time are you picking me up Wednesday night?”
He turned at the front door, wishing his grip on the situation was as tight as his grip on the knob. “Listen to me, Amelia. I’m not going to pick you up on Wednesday or any other day. We’re not going to see each other again. It’s that simple.”
“Oh, no, it’s not. What am I supposed to tell Daddy? He’s already approached the governor about a power breakfast to introduce you.”
“Tell him I’m sorry. For whatever trouble I’ve caused you, or your family, I apologize. But for me it’s not about power.”
She crossed her silk-clad arms, tilted her head and smiled. “It’s always about power.”
Drew rested his elbows on the top of his desk, his hands clasped with fingers laced as he mentally prepared for the conversation to come. After a sleepless night he was even more certain of his decision. He’d prayed his father would see it the same way.
“Marcus Keegan her
e.”
“Father?”
“Andrew!” There was pleasure in the senior statesman’s voice. “It’s so good to hear from you.”
“Thank you, sir. I’m surprised Faith didn’t answer.”
The older man chuckled. “I am, too. The telephone seems to be her primary interest these days. She insists on answering every call herself and she’s become quite good at taking messages for me when I’m out. What’s up, son? You’re calling rather early this morning.”
Drew checked the time, understanding the statement. Their conversations generally took place in the evening when both men felt the need to talk over the day’s accomplishments.
Better than anyone else, Drew knew the extent of his father’s grief over the loss of his wife twelve years earlier. While a junior at West Point, Drew had wanted to come home and help with fourteen-year-old Faith’s recovery and to complete his studies at a local college. His father wouldn’t hear of it. Their longtime housekeeper had become Faith’s full-time caregiver. Marcus had managed to complete another full term before retiring, and Drew had stayed at West Point.
Not a day went by that he didn’t remember and miss his mother’s indomitable spirit.
“I know it’s still early. I’ve been at the shop since daylight and I’m about to get on the road.”
“How’s everything going, son?”
“Quite well, actually—just not as we’d expected.”
“You definitely have my attention.”
Drew could envision his father leaning back in his executive desk chair.
“Are you and Amelia ready to make an announcement?”
Here it was, one of the few moments in his life when he just couldn’t live up to his father’s expectations. Drew thought he might be sick. His chest expanded with a deep breath to steady his voice.
“That’s not going to happen, sir.”
“So Raymond Crockett wants you young people to hold off awhile? Makes sense not to rush Southern conservatives into accepting a new kid into their club.”
