by Janet Dailey
"Jordanna, I found the mushrooms for you." Tom walked around the corner and stopped when he saw his wife with a strange man. "Hello." He didn't look the least bit upset, not even by the fact that Brodie was still holding Jordanna's hand.
"Did you ever meet my husband, Tom?" Jordanna asked with absolute unconcern. "Tom, this is Brodie Hayes. My husband, Tom Radford."
"I don't believe we've met." Brodie released Jordanna's hand to shake Tom's. "How do you do, Tom."
"I take it you're an old friend of Jordanna's," he said, smiling.
"That's right." He cast a look sideways at Jordanna. "I tried very hard to make it more than friendship, but she already had you in her sights at the time."
Jessica wanted to scream and stamp her feet and tell them all that Brodie was here to see her. The trouble was he had lost interest in her the minute he'd seen Jordanna. It was the very thing she had feared all along, only she had refused to face it.
"What are you doing here?" Jordanna asked curiously.
But it was Tom who put two and two together. "Are you the mysterious man in Jessica's life?" he joked.
"Oh!" Jordanna clasped a hand over her mouth in surprise. "Are you dating Jesssica?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, we were supposed to have dinner together tonight." For the first time since he'd seen Jordanna Brodie glanced behind him to Jessica. It seemed like an invitation to join the circle. She walked stiffly forward, pride refusing to let the hurt show through. "Only now she tells me it's off."
"Jessica, you don't have to cancel your date just because we're here." Tom frowned.
"But you're only going to be here tonight. When else would I have a chance to talk to you?" Jessica rigidly defended her action.
"We never meant to upset your plans, Jessica," her sister apologized. "Stay for dinner, Brodie. I have a roast in the oven. There's plenty for all of us."
"No!" Jessica spoke without thinking how it sounded. She was conscious of Brodie's piercing gaze narrowing on her. With difficulty, she met it. "I know how busy your schedule is. I'm sure there's some place you have to be other than here."
"I took Drew's advice and rearranged my schedule so it wouldn't be so crowded," he told her. "There isn't any place I have to be until tomorrow afternoon."
"Well, I'm sure there are papers or financial statements you need to go over," Jessica tried to find a reason for him to leave.
"A man can't work all the time," Tom inserted. "Stay for dinner, Brodie."
"It seems you're outnumbered, Jessica," said Brodie, measuring her with a cool look. "That's two invitations for dinner."
"You're welcome to stays of course," she lied. She wanted him far away from here…and from her sister. "I just thought you might have something more important to do."
"Not a thing, I'm glad you want me to stay." A muscle jumped in his jaw as he uttered the last statement in a faintly sarcastic tone.
"How did the two of you meet?" Jordanna questioned, missing the charged look that passed between Brodie and her sister.
"I picked her up on a street corner about two months ago." Brodie phrased it so it was deliberately suggestive. When he saw the fire flash in Jessica's eyes, he smiled. "We bumped into each other quite by accident. When I first saw her I thought it was you, Jordanna. It was only after a few minutes that I realized the resemblance was superficial."
Jessica wanted to die—that he should actually admit he had mistaken her for her sister. It seemed the final humiliation.
"Excuse me," she murmured. "I think I'd better check on the dinner."
She retreated into the kitchen. Jordanna, despite her earlier protestations that she would fix it, stayed in the living room with Brodie and Tom. She could hear them talking and laughing. Jealousy seethed through her veins.
The roast was out of the oven when Jordanna finally wandered in to help her. Jessica barely glanced at her as she took a meat platter from the cupboard to put the roast on. At that moment, she was trying very hard not to hate her sister.
"The table is already set;" Jessica told her. "You can get a bowl down for the potatoes and carrots."
If Jordanna noticed her waspish tone, she ignored it. "Brodie has certainly done well for himself, hasn't he?" she murmured as if speaking her thoughts aloud.
"Yes. Do you want to make the gravy or shall I?" Jessica didn't want to discuss Brodie with her sister.
"I will. Where's the flour?" Jordanna asked, and opened the cupboard Jessica pointed to. "He's really a very attractive man."
"You didn't used to think so," Jessica reminded her. She didn't give her sister a chance to reply as she carried the platter of moat to the table in the dining room. "Will you slice the roast, Tom?" she requested, and avoided looking at Brodie.
The meal was a miserable ordeal, listening to Jordanna and Brodie talking about the past. Tom had been a part of it, so he joined in the conversation. Jessica hadn't, and she wasn't a part of the dinner conversation, either. She was the fifth wheel and felt it all the way to her bones. She served the dinner, cleared the plates, brought the dessert and coffee, and was as ignored as a servant.
"It hardly seems that long ago, Brodie," Jordanna sighed, as she took the photographs she had shown him of her children and put them back in her purse. "Yet I have two children who aren't that much younger than we were when you came to my house wanting me to go for a ride with you."
"Yes, and you turned me down flat." Brodie recalled dryly. "I was the boy from the wrong side of town. It isn't surprising that you didn't want anything to do with me."
"I don't know." Jordanna seemed to consider the thought. "Where you came from didn't have much to do with it. If I hadn't already met Tom, I probably would have accepted your invitation."
Jessica didn't want to hear this. She rose abruptly from the table. "Excuse me. I think I'll wash the dishes."
"We can do them later, Jessica," Jordanna protested.
"I'd rather do them now," Jessica insisted tightly. "It's getting late and I—"
"Jessica's right. It is getting late," Brodie inserted. "I've intruded on your family gathering long enough. It's time I was leaving." He rose from the table and glanced pointedly at Jessica.
Courtesy demanded that she offer, "I'll see you to the door."
"Thank you." There was dry mockery in his voice. He took hold of her arm as if he expected her to change her mind and was determined that she would follow through with her offer. Jessica stood rigid in his grasp while Brodie made his good-nights to her sister and brother-in-law.
There was an electric quality to the air when they reached the door. Her features were frozen in a smooth mask of ice. Its thickness withstood Brodie's attempt to penetrate it. He reached in his pocket and took out a long, thin case.
"Here. I didn't have a chance to give it to you earlier," he said.
Jessica's fingers curled around the gift. She longed to throw it in his face or tell him to give it to Jordanna, but this late in the evening, she was well schooled in controlling her emotions.
"It's a strand of pearls," Brodie told her when she made no attempt to open it.
"I'll open it later. Thank you." A poor replica of a smile curved her stiff mouth.
His jaw hardened, his nostrils flaring in anger. Then his gaze flicked to the adjoining room and the couple who were doing their best to ignore the two at the door.
"I'll call you," he said, and it sounded like a threat. Jessica briefly inclined her head, but Brodie wasn't looking. He was opening the door and walking out, closing it behind him much too quietly. Jessica shuddered and turned away.
"Has he left already?" Jordanna asked the obvious, "What's that in your hand? A present?"
"Yes." Jessica stared at it. Her fingers were as white as the paper it was wrapped in.
"Well, open it. Don't you want to see what it is?" her sister urged, coming into the living room to join her. To make a negative reply would have invited questions Jessica didn't want to answer. Unwillingly she tore the paper off an
d opened the box. "Pearls!" Jordanna exclaimed. "They're beautiful!"
"Is it some special occasion or something?" Tom asked.
"No, no special occasion." Jessica looked at the perfect strand of matched pearls, but couldn't bring herself to touch them. "Brodie just does this."
"Lucky you." Her sister smiled, then turned to her husband to scold him playfully, "How come you never bought me presents like that when we were dating?"
"I didn't want to spoil you. Besides—" Tom glanced at the pearls, his look assessing "—I wasn't rolling in money the way he is."
After that, Jessica was beseiged by questions about Brodie, some of which she dodged, others she answered. It was a relief when the hour grew late enough that she could escape them to the isolation of her room. The bed was inviting, but sleep was far away.
In the morning, Jessica was able to pretend that she was sorry to see her sister go. She even managed to lie that she wished Jordanna could stay longer.
An hour after Jordanna and Tom had left for Memphis, Jessica was at the office, tormented by the hell of being jealous of her own sister. A tight ball of nerves, nothing she did went right. By ten-thirty that morning she was bent over her desk, her face buried in her hands. She was certain she was losing her sanity and wondered how she would get through the rest of the day.
The door to her office opened and Brodie walked in, tall and vigorous while she felt small and beaten. She stared at him, half-afraid she was having hallucinations.
"What are you doing here?" she breathed.
"I came to take you to lunch," he said, matter-of-factly.
"But you said last night that you had an appointment at noon."
"Yes, I do, in Nashville. We're flying there for lunch. I promised you a ride in my jet, remember?" An eyebrow lifted, arrogant and mocking, yet his look was piercing.
"But I can't—"
"Yes, you can," Brodie interrupted her protest. "I've already spoken to your uncle, and he has no objection if you take a few hours off. The lost time of a minor assistant is negligible compared to the large advertising account of Janson Boats. Get your handbag. We don't have much time."
Jessica was swept into the maelstrom of his commanding presence. Before she could think, she was hustled out of the office, into his waiting car, and was halfway to the airport. By then it was too late. She stared at the clasped hands in her lap and wondered what kind of fool she was.
"I presume Tom and Jordanna left early this morning."
"Yes, they did," she acknowledged stiffly.
He shot her a piercing glance. "Why were you so anxious to get rid of me last night, Jessica?"
She started guiltily. "Don't be ridiculous! I wasn't anxious to get rid of you," she lied. "I know the way you drive yourself. I thought you'd be better off resting than listening to a lot of boring family conversation."
"I wasn't bored."
No, Jessica swallowed at the pain that knifed through her, Jordanna didn't bore him. Her sister never had. She felt his glance and knew she had to make some response.
"I'm glad," she murmured as he parked in front of an airplane hangar.
The sleek private jet was waiting on the concrete apron. There were hurried introductions of Jessica to the pilot, Jim Kent, and the copilot, Frank Murphy, before she was hustled aboard.
The interior of the aircraft was not fitted out for passenger seating, but instead resembled a den with two lightweight desks mounted to the floor, some comfortable-looking chairs and a divan. Brodie helped her to buckle herself into one of the chairs.
"Have you ever flown before?" He took a seat near her.
"Yes, but never in anything like this." The plane was rolling down the runway. Jessica could feel the acceleration of the powerful jet engines.
"It's very practical. There's work space for myself and Cliff or Drew. There's a shower in the washroom." He continued to talk to her as the plane roared into the air. "I can nap on the divan. There're facilities for drinks and snacks."
Jessica glanced at him. "Are you trying to impress me?"
"Are you impressed?" Brodie countered, his mouth quirking.
"Yes," she admitted.
"Good."
"How long will it take to get to Nashville?"
"It's a short flight. By the time we take off, climb to the designated altitude, and level off, Jim starts his descent." He was eyeing her with an intent yet rather mocking look. "There isn't enough time to earn a 'mile-high' pin."
"What's that?" she asked blankly.
"That, Green Eyes," Brodie unfastened his seat her and straightened to tower beside her, "is given when you've made love a mile above ground."
His low, throaty laugh said that he had noted the agitated movement of her breasts. His hand cupped the back of her head, turning her face up. There was the blinding brilliance of his gaze on her. Then he was kissing her long and hard, eating away her resistance with his devouring mouth. Jessica responded, convinced she was without pride where Brodie was concerned. When he straightened, she felt light-headed and shaken.
"Want anything to drink?" he offered. "Coffee? Tea?"
Or you, she thought.
"Nothing," she refused.
While he got himself some coffee, she sat quietly in her chair. She found herself wondering how many women had received a "mile high" pin from him. Her stomach churned in a sickening knot.
A rental car was waiting at the Nashville airport. They lunched with some stranger. Afterward Brodie drove her back to the airport and put her on his jet alone to be flown back to Chattanooga.
"I'll call you next week," he told her as he kissed her goodbye.
She would be waiting. She had the feeling she would always be waiting.
| Go to Table of Contents |
Chapter Eleven
BRODIE DIDN'T CALL. A week later he drove up to the curb of her apartment building just as Jessica was arriving home from work. He honked the horn to call her over and left the engine running.
"Shall we go for a ride?" he asked.
"All right. Give me a couple of minutes to change."
"There's nothing wrong with what you're wearing." His gaze swept over the dirndl skirt and beige blouse she had on.
"But I—"
"Are you looking for compliments?" The slam of his mouth taunted her.
"No," Jessica denied.
"Then climb in," he ordered. When she was in the passenger seat and the door was closed, Brodie shifted the car into gear and turned it onto the street. His gaze glittered to her briefly. "Are you upset with me for not calling?"
"I…no," she admitted. As long as she saw him, it didn't seem to matter whether she knew in advance or not. And that was the shameless truth.
As if he knew what the admission had cost her in pride, Brodie took hold of her hand, linking his fingers with hers and carried the back of her hand to his mouth. Her hand remained in the warm clasp of his as he drove through the city streets. Jessica leaned against the seat, turning her head on the back rest to study his profile. She felt she had been more than amply rewarded for telling the truth.
"Have you had a rough week?" He didn't look tired, at least not as tired as he had that other time he had visited.
"Not any more than usual." Brodie slowed the car to make a sharp turn onto a tree-lined road.
"Where are we going?" Jessica glanced around, noticing that they had seemed to leave the city behind.
"I forgot. Your present is in the glove compartment," he said. Hiding her displeasure, Jessica opened the compartment. There was an envelope inside with her name on it. She hesitated. Surely he wouldn't be so crude as to give her money? "Go on, open it," Brodie prodded.
Grudgingly she took it out and lifted up the flap. There was a key inside. Her gaze flew to Brodie as she held it up. "What's this for?"
He merely smiled, made another turn, and slowed the car to a stop. As he switched off the engine he glanced to her. "Why don't you try it on that door?" he suggested, and nodded in the di
rection behind her.
Jessica turned. They were parked in the driveway of a sprawling house nestled on the crest of a hill. A thousand questions spun through her mind, but a second look at Brodie told her he would provide the answers when he felt it was time.
She climbed out of the car and waited for Brodie to join her. Together they followed the curving sidewalk to the front door. The key in her hand turned the lock. She glanced at Brodie's enigmatical features and opened the door.
A few steps inside, she entered a completely furnished living room with a beamed, acoustical ceiling. The starkness of the off-white walls and terrazzo floors was relieved by the greens, beiges and golds of contemporary pieces. The fireplace was framed by a gold sofa facing two easy chairs.
In the opposite corner of the room was a sweeping curved sofa in green tweed with armchairs in avocado and beige striped fabric. Emerald green lamps on matching end tables completed the arrangement. Despite the subtle elegance, every comer invited Jessica to sit down and relax.
But Brodie's hand at her elbow was guiding her to the formal dining room where a blue gray carpet accented the gold velvet of the chairs. The dining room credenza held a beautiful china set and figurines. Natural silk draperies hung at the windows.
From there it was on to a spacious U-shaped kitchen with blue-tile counters. Antique copper pieces decorated the wall. The room was complete with a breakfast nook—a cozy sitting room filled with white wicker.
Backtracking, Brodie showed her the den with its wall of books and pale brick fireplace. An area rug of chocolate brown complemented the beige plaid sofa and easy chairs that flanked the fireplace. A walnut desk dominated one side of the room.
The two guest bedrooms were skipped over as Brodie led her to the master bedroom. The king-size bed was covered with a white quilt. Cinnabar velvet upholstered two small armchairs arranged with a low table between them.
"What do you think?" Brodie finally broke the silence that had been between them.
"What can I say?" Jessica lifted her hands, at a loss for words. "It's beautiful!"
"Beautiful enough to live in?" he challenged. Jessica stared, hardly daring to believe what he was saying. Brodie continued before she could respond, "It's within easy reach of town yet far enough away to give us some privacy." Her heart sang at the pronounced, "I imagine you'll want to keep working, although I would much rather have you here waiting for me."
