by Susan Tracy
"Why don't we go out on the terrace," Leigh suggested to Dan. Now was as good a time as any to have that talk he had mentioned. He must be understandably puzzled about her supposedly sudden marriage and deserved some sort of assurance that she was planning to continue her career.
The night was warm and fragrant, the sweet smell of honeysuckle wafting on a light breeze. Leigh led the way over to a stone bench that overlooked the sweep of the lawn.
"Well, Leigh, you've certainly thrown me for a toss," Dan said rather sadly. "I had hoped—oh, never mind."
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "Everything happened very quickly."
She intended to tell Dan the whole story, but she decided it would be better to wait until she was back in New York, with all of this behind her, if it ever could be. With Jason and Paula just inside, she could be interrupted at any time. And besides, it was better for Dan to get used to the idea that she was unavailable.
She had enjoyed going out with him, but she knew now that there was no chance for anything more serious than friendship to develop between them, and she didn't want to mislead him.
"I have a confession to make." Dan nervously pushed back the fair hair that flopped over his narrow forehead. "I was worried about you, but I had another reason for coming to find you."
As Leigh listened in silence, he told her about a commission he had secured for her, to model Alain Desmains's new fall collection in Paris for Femme magazine.
"It's a fantastic opportunity," he ended, his thin face alight with enthusiasm. "Desmains saw that evening wear spread you did for Vogue last winter and asked for you. Do you realize what that means, Leigh? He's the biggest designer in Europe. You'll be in demand, you'll have an international reputation."
She hated to quench his excitement but she had no choice.
"It sounds wonderful, but I can't get away right now, Dan."
"Surely you're not giving up your career, not now when you're right at the top. Your husband will understand."
"No, I'm not giving up my career, but as I told you, I need to take some time off."
"You're not pregnant?" He sounded horrified.
"No." She shrugged. "I don't suppose Desmains would be willing to wait a few months."
"Leigh, Desmains won't wait a few days. You have to go back with me now. He wants you in Paris by the twelfth."
As if to convince her, he leaned forward and peered at her in the half-light. "Every model I know would jump at this chance. You can't turn it down. Desmains would never hire you again."
Realizing that he was unable to shake her resolve, Dan lowered his head, a picture of quiet desperation.
"I gave my word, Leigh, that you would do it," he mumbled.
Even as she felt anger that Dan would make a commitment without asking her first, a surge of pity coursed through her. Dan was a nice guy in a tough, competitive profession. To get where he was today, he had had to hustle, and sometimes to make compromises with his ethics. Not fulfilling a promise he had made to the designer would be a serious blow for his credibility, she knew that.
Torn, Leigh wanted to help him out of a spot, but she was bound by her promise to Jason.
"I wish I could help," she told him, putting her hand on his arm.
"You won't change your mind?"
"I can't. I promised Jason not to work for—a while."
Their intense concentration was broken as the French window opened and Jason stepped out onto the terrace.
"Leigh, Paula is ready to leave. I was sure you'd want to say good-night to her."
Chapter Seven
"How about a nightcap?" Jason asked as soon as the heavy front door closed behind the departing Paula and Dan.
"I don't think so, thanks. It's late." It was late and Leigh was tired. She also had sense enough to question the wisdom of a tête-à-tête with Jason in the silent house.
But he wasn't taking no for an answer.
"Oh, come on. It's not that late. And besides, you deserve a moment to unwind. The evening was a success, thanks to you. You made a very gracious hostess."
"Thank you," Leigh said unsteadily. She was thrown slightly off guard, not so much by the compliment, but by the warmth with which it was expressed. In her momentary confusion, she let Jason take her elbow and guide her down the hall to his study, located to the right of the wide, curving staircase.
Without asking her preference, he went to the campaign table that served as a bar and poured her a small brandy. For himself, he splashed several fingers of whiskey into a wide glass and added a dash of soda. He took a long pull at the drink and then set the glass aside while he shrugged his wide, powerful shoulders out of his dinner jacket and loosened his tie. The formal white shirt he wore, with its tiny edging of lace down the front, looked almost incongruous on so masculine a man, Leigh thought as she watched him. And yet, the shirt emphasized his rugged appeal, its stark white a contrast to his deep tan, its fitted lines tapering closely to his narrow waist. He turned to pull the heavy curtains, seeming to enclose them together in the intimacy of the small room. With a casual wave of his hand, he motioned Leigh, still standing, to an armchair of burgundy leather.
She, however, shook her head, preferring instead to wander over to one of the bookcases. Somehow she felt she could keep her wits about her better if she remained on her feet.
The study was probably Leigh's favorite room in the entire house. With its book-lined walls and deep, comfortable chairs, it had an air of quiet and reserve that somehow comforted Leigh. It was a place to come to think, or a place to relax after the turmoil of the day. She could imagine Jason in here in the evenings, sifting through a mountain of papers, a frown of concentration between his dark brows. In some ways, the room, with its indefinable smell of old leather bindings and a lingering trace of wood-smoke from the fireplace, reminded Leigh of her grandfather's study.
Jason leaned back against the edge of the massive walnut desk, his arms crossed in front of him.
"Well, what did Morgan really want? I assume he came to take you back to the big city." Accents of mockery tinted the deep voice. "He seemed very persuasive from what I saw."
Too aware of his perceptiveness to try to hedge, Leigh went straight to the point. "He has a job for me in Paris on the twelfth." One arrogantly raised eyebrow forced her to continue hotly. "Which I turned down!"
He took note of her flushed cheeks and flashing eyes, a combination that heightened her usually rather glacial beauty. In one jerky movement, he tipped his glass and swallowed its contents, then crossed the room to the drinks table. With his back to her, he picked up a Georgian decanter.
"As it turns out, you could probably take that job." His voice carried the abrupt thrust of a rabbit punch to the abdomen.
He poured himself a refill and turned around.
"I had a letter from Clare today. Bob's leg is finally in a walking cast and his doctors think he should be able to travel in about a week. Of course he and Clare will fly here immediately once they've got the go-ahead. They're missing Jody."
The words registered slowly, and as they did sheer panic shot through Leigh. Not this soon!
She hadn't expected them to come back so soon. That meant she wouldn't be needed here anymore, that she would be free to go. In a week! Suddenly she was facing something she had known deep down for days, but had refused to admit to herself. Incredibly, she didn't want to leave. Not for Paris. Not for the Desmains's collection. Not for the greatest job in the world, or anything, or anybody. And the magnet drawing her was not this gracious old house or the lovely countryside or the happiness and contentment she had found here. It was Jason.
Leigh shivered as the chill of regret swept over her.
Jason's eyes rested sharply on her and she wondered if he could read her mind.
"You don't have to leave right away when Bob and Clare get here," he said almost reluctantly. "You're welcome to stay for a while."
"Thank you but I have a living to earn," Leigh got out. She wo
uldn't be the unwanted guest in his house no matter how grateful he was to her for looking after Jody.
"I'm sure you work very hard, Leigh. That's one thing I've learned about you in the past few weeks. But why not take a break? Surely you've earned it. Jody has kept you run off your feet."
Unable to trust her voice, she simply shook her head to indicate her refusal.
There was a long pause. For some reason, Leigh sensed an uncertainty about Jason, but decided she must be mistaken. Her own mixed-up emotions were sending her all the wrong signals. Uncertain was something the forceful Jason Randall had never been in his entire life.
With a click that sounded loud and final in the quiet room, he put his empty glass down on the table and moved over to stand behind his desk. From its blotter, he picked up a gold pen and idly twirled it, his attention seemingly focused on it.
"As a matter of fact, I'd like you to stay here permanently."
The strange invitation rocked Leigh. For a moment she couldn't move, and then realizing that she felt a little dizzy, managed to get herself into the chair she had spurned earlier. With fingers that shook, she carefully put the untasted brandy onto a nearby table.
"I, I'm not sure I understand," she stammered into the waiting silence.
He sat down behind the desk, looking for all the world like a business executive about to hammer out a complicated deal, and of course, that's exactly what he was doing, she realized as he spoke.
"I'm suggesting that we forget about the annulment, that we give our marriage another chance," he said crisply.
"Why?" Leigh croaked, for once deserted by her cool composure.
"Because I need a wife." He hesitated while his eyes ran over her, making the meaning of his next words very clear. "And I want you."
His dispassionate glance followed the emotions that chased across her sensitive features before he spoke again in a sure and convincing voice.
"It would work, Leigh. You seem to like it here, the place, the people." He held up a hand to ward off any interruption. "Don't try to deny it, I've watched you."
Leigh's fingers grasped at the smooth leather of the chair as she tried to come to terms with his suggestion. Now that the first shock was wearing off, she was beginning to collect her thoughts and her pride made her speak as coolly as he had.
"What makes you think I'd settle now for something I ran away from five years ago?" she asked, going right to the heart of the issue.
"We're both older and wiser, Leigh. More ready to accept that life isn't perfect. In other words, to accept reality." His face was impassive, his voice cool. He was making a plea for reason, not emotion. In fact, as far as he was concerned, Leigh realized, no emotion came into it. What he was saying was that they could have a working marriage if they put foolish dreams of romance behind them. Clearly he could. Jason Randall had never had any romantic dreams that Leigh knew of. But what about her? Was the starry-eyed teenager she had been when she married him gone forever? Would the adult Leigh accept a compromise?
She felt as if a lead weight had lodged itself in the center of her chest. Why was she even sitting here listening to him? Why didn't she get up and walk out and pack her bags? Was she so caught in his spell that she would actually consider this cold-blooded marriage he was proposing? She might want to stay here, she told herself, but not under those circumstances.
"You might miss your job and friends at first, but I'd give you anything you wanted. I'm a rich man, Leigh."
"You make it sound like a business arrangement," she retorted, angry that he thought he could buy her.
He crossed his arms and leaned back to consider her soberly.
"It would be a real marriage, Leigh, make no mistake about that. I want a family someday."
Unable to look at him any longer, she dropped her eyes to the mellow red carpet at her feet. She should refuse here and now, but somehow, crazily, she was torn, tempted to say yes. She felt pulled in two directions and she couldn't seem to fight her way out of the maze of confusion that was overwhelming her.
She lifted her head and heard herself say, "I'd like to think about it."
"Take your time. You don't have to give me an answer right away. I won't press you." His teeth showed white in a lazy smile. "At least not until Bob and Clare get back."
With a shaky attempt at a smile in return, Leigh got to her feet.
"I'll go on up now, if you don't mind."
He stood politely and went to open the study door, and to her surprise accompanied her up the stairs to the door of her room. Half-turned to face him, she said good-night.
Jason's hands came out and took her shoulders in a firm hold. Slowly and deliberately he drew her to him, until her body was lightly touching his. For an instant he gazed into her wide, smoky gray eyes and then his lips were on hers in a hard, yet tender kiss. Leigh's very bones seemed to melt.
"I didn't promise not to try to influence you in my direction," he murmured seductively and let her go. "Sleep well."
Leigh hadn't expected to sleep at all, but she did. Her eyes closed fast the moment her head hit the pillow. What with one thing and another, it had been quite a day.
She awoke to sun in her face, streaming through a crack in the filmy blue curtains. As she raised her arms in a wide stretch, her eyes caught the sheen of the silk covering the walls, slightly faded now but once the delicate blue-green of a robin's egg. The room was still lovely, but it must have been absolutely gorgeous at one time, before the years took away some of its shine. Leigh was inexpressively glad that Jason had decided to redo it.
With a yawn, she swung out of bed, her feet sinking into the depths of an off-white Chinese carpet. It was then that the events of last night came rushing back to her. Leigh blinked and rubbed at her eyes, still misty from sleep. As unbelievable as it seemed in the clear light of morning, she had actually agreed to consider staying on here as Jason's wife. His wife! Had some mischievous demon taken possession of her?
Determinedly Leigh pushed the thoughts away and padded on bare feet over to the window that overlooked the vast back garden. If the view that met her eyes was anything to go by, the day promised to be a beautiful one, and suddenly she felt vibrantly alive and quite illogically happy.
She had scrubbed her face shining clean and was buttoning a sand-colored shirt over brown linen slacks when Jody bounced into the room. Her curls were tousled and her round cheeks were rosy from sleep. She must just have awakened.
"Hello, darling. You're an early bird today," Leigh greeted her. Hastily she clipped her hair back into a ponytail and decided to eschew makeup altogether. The fidgeting little girl was understandably eager to be out and about, so with a ready grin, Leigh swung her up into her arms and took her off to get dressed.
She had expected Jason to have breakfasted and gone, but there he sat at the dining room table, his plate pushed aside and the morning newspaper propped up in front of him. He was dressed for the office in a suit of a lightweight gray material, the blue silk tie he wore a perfect match for his shirt. Devastatingly attractive, he was the kind of companion a girl could spend a lifetime facing across the breakfast table, Leigh's errant thoughts whispered.
"Good morning." Her smile was almost shy, and he returned it with one of his own, wiped clear of mockery, that started the butterflies fluttering in Leigh's stomach. Telling herself she was acting like a teenager with her first crush, she hurriedly excused herself to offer Smitty some help.
In the kitchen the housekeeper, enveloped in a large, flowered apron, was dishing up two plates of golden scrambled eggs and sausages. These she handed to Leigh to take into the dining room, with instructions to come back for a rack of toast and Jody's milk, already poured and ready.
Leigh had put everything out and sat down just as Jason folded his paper and placed it beside his empty plate.
"I wanted to tell you that I'll be a little late tonight," he said, taking a last sip of coffee. "I should be back by about eight."
Leigh fe
lt an odd pang of disappointment, but it was completely dispelled by his next words.
"Would you wait and have dinner with me?"
She nodded, and again with a sense of shyness, turned to help a clamoring Jody butter her toast.
"I'll see you tonight then," Jason said softly as he rose and came around to tweak Jody's nose. "Be a good girl today, pumpkin."
At the door he turned back as if something had just occurred to him.
"You drive, don't you, Leigh?"
"Yes," she answered, puzzled. "My grandfather taught me."
"Well, there's a car in the garage you can use. Get Smitty to give you directions if you plan to go far, though."
He tossed her a set of keys, and with a wave was gone.
Leigh decided to take Jason up on the offer of the car when she went into the kitchen with the empty dishes. A woman almost as wide as she was tall was there, in the act of depositing her purse and a large brown paper shopping bag onto a chair. Smitty introduced her as Carrie Smith who came twice a week to help with the heavy work.
Depositing her bulk on another chair, Carrie accepted a steaming cup of coffee from Smitty and announced, with a hard look at Jody, that it was time she gave the floors a good scrub. Leigh took the hint and quickly invented an outing that would get Jody and her out of Carrie's way. A little questioning of Smitty and soon, armed with a hand-drawn map and a picnic basket, they headed for the garage.
They were in for a surprise. Leigh had expected the car Jason mentioned to be an old one, used for farm errands. Anything less like a farm vehicle than the sleek red Porsche parked there she had never seen.
Positive that there must be some mistake, Leigh took Jody by the hand and marched to the back door. She found Smitty in the utility room, knee-deep in laundry.
"Smitty, the only car in the garage is a red Porsche. That can't be the one Jason meant me to use. I'd be scared to drive anything so expensive."
"Then you'd better plan to stay home today. That's the one, all right. Arrived yesterday."
