by Renee Roszel
He toyed with the soda can on the table and barked, “Will you just eat and go to bed.”
She cocked her head sideways, eyeing him curiously. “Why do you keep getting annoyed every time I mention those two? What difference could it possibly make to you if they’re making whoopee?”
“It doesn’t matter to me,” he growled, running a fist along his jaw. “Why would it matter to me? Eat.”
“I don’t know, but…” She pulled on her upper lip with her teeth, watching him silently.
The cunning look in her eyes made him grow uncomfortable. His sister’s thought processes could be convoluted when she set her mind to it. He had no idea what ridiculous conclusions she’d arrive at.
“Cotter?” Looking thoughtful, Nordie scratched her nose with her fingernail. “You know? For twenty-one years I’ve been trying to get your goat. But now, suddenly, you burst into flames every time Professor Webber and her love life crop up in the conversation.” She nudged his shoulder with her elbow. “Why, even that time I told the mayor you’d miss his meeting ’cause you’d been arrested for telling state secrets, you didn’t get this crazy.” She eyed him with lips pursed in exaggerated contemplation. “Why would you say that is, Cotter?”
He clamped his jaws tight, scowling at her this time. Her smile didn’t fade, and she leaned forward, resting her chin on folded hands. “Hmm.” She pursed her lips, pondering the source of Cotter’s anxiety. “Hmm…”
“What are you trying to say?” he ground out.
She grinned. “Nothing.” She took a bite of her food and put it down. “It is funny, though. I mean, she does seem pretty partial to the cop.” Nordie’s eyes glistened with fun. “I can’t imagine why. I mean, just because he’s gorgeous, cheerful, and he dotes on her every word. How could she prefer him to you? After all, aren’t you the conceited jerk of her dreams?
“Egotistical,” he amended through clenched teeth.
“Huh?” She wrinkled her nose in question.
“Never mind.” He shook his head, sighing. “Are you through?”
“Not quite.” She dismissed him with a toss of her head. “I mean, you’ve lied to her and made a fool out of her—”
“All my idea, of course,” he interrupted curtly.
She shrugged but went on, undaunted. “You glower, growl and stare at her as though you were about to command, ‘Off with her head.’ How could she choose Detective Noonan’s boring consistent courtship over your innovative advances?”
“Advances! Now, that is crazy!” He bolted up. “I’m going to bed!”
Her high-pitched laughter followed him all the way down the hall.
Before he knew it, Cotter was standing inside his darkened bathroom rapping on Raine’s door. He drew his hand back as though he’d touched molten lead when he heard her ask, “What do you want?”
He didn’t know. Lowering his hand, he stared at the blank panels, unable to think of a plausible answer.
She repeated the question a little louder this time. “What do you want, Cotter?”
Feeling like a fool, he turned away, muttering gruffly, “Nothing. Go back to sleep.”
Before he’d reached his door, he heard hers open. He knew she was standing there, watching his back. He could picture Raine in her outlandish pajamas. She said nothing. After a long, palpable silence, he turned to face her, unable to help himself.
She was standing with one hand resting on the doorknob as though she expected to have to slam the door shut at any instant. Her face was solemn, questioning, closed in a slight frown. He was surprised to see that she wore only the pajama shirt. Even so, it draped her hips modestly. Cotter preferred not to be reminded of her graceful body, not now, anyway. He didn’t have any idea what he wanted to say to her, he just knew he had to communicate something. Of course, Nordie was quite wrong. He wasn’t jealous of Raine’s interest in Ike Noonan. But he had to admit it made him unhappy to see her wary and distrustful—especially knowing he’d been the one to make her that way.
Considering everything, he owed her an apology. With a regretful air he offered quietly, “I hope you can forgive me for the other night.”
Her expression didn’t change, but for the slight arching of one brow. “I’m afraid it’s a little late for that.” She spoke calmly, clearly, without emotion. She looked very proud, very hurt—lovely and vulnerable. With an accusatory finger pointing at his chest, she said quietly, “You suggested things about me tonight that I can’t forgive easily. So I’ve decided it would be best if we kept clear of each other until I leave next week. I can’t see that there’s anything left for us to say.” With a brisk step backward, she quickly closed the door between them.
Her abrupt withdrawal took Cotter off guard. He’d expected her to be forgiving, to offer him a shy little smile. Why did she suddenly have to become self-righteous? He felt disappointed, and that, too, annoyed him.
She was wrong. There were things worth saying. And he wanted them said. He headed toward her door and took hold of the knob. Twisting it, he almost ran into the door when it didn’t open. She had locked it. Rattling the knob, he called her name. Twice. Three times. But there was no response. The urge to bang on the door was almost too strong to ignore. But he controlled his urge, wishing he could find an outlet for his frustration.
Inhaling slowly, he regained a sense of calm. Trying for rational communication, he lifted his hand from the knob and held it out placatingly toward the blank door. “Look, Raine. If it’s what I said about you and Ike—I didn’t mean that.” Suddenly he was not just saying that. He knew he hadn’t meant what he had said to her earlier. She was not the type to get involved with a man so cavalierly.
Something thudded against the door, making him wince. Apparently she meant what she’d said. She was through speaking to him. He’d gone one step too far, even for a forgiving, protector-of-the-underdog like her. Dropping his head, he realized he couldn’t blame her for the way she felt. He peered at the panels for a long moment, listening for any sound on the other side. There was only silence. Slowly he turned away, walking back into his big, dark room.
Cotter felt numb. He’d hurt Raine badly, and he’d also hurt himself.
With an irritated motion he unfastened his robe, shrugged out of it and, in one sweeping gesture, he picked it up and threw it across the room.
RAINE PULLED OFF her rubber gloves and checked her watch. It was four-thirty. Laying the gloves on the plywood table, she put her hands to the small of her back and stretched. It had been a long, difficult day. And a long, hard night. She tried to shake off the thought of her last sight of Cotter, just before she’d closed the door on him. She’d been trying to rid herself of the vision all day long. He’d been watching her with a vivid and penetrating gaze, studying her cautious expression. She hadn’t been able to stand that devastating look for a moment longer. Her heart had been pounding, her body aching with the need to be held in his arms. She wanted him, but found herself unable to cope with his many contradictions. She couldn’t accept him on the current terms—not even after he’d taken back his insinuations about her and Ike. But at least she did feel that he really had meant that.
Sighing, she looked around her. She’d already dismissed her students, and they were ambling out in a group, talking and laughing, and looking forward to the party in honor of Carl and Cammie. Nordie had explained its purpose as a farewell party that they were sure Cotter wouldn’t think of having if left to his own devices.
Nordie had taken her lunch into Cotter’s den and helped Cammie make all the necessary calls. And, by the time she’d gotten back to work at two o’clock, the party was definitely on. Dinner to be catered et cetera. Raine was surprised at how rapidly something that seemed so elaborate could be planned. She guessed that with enough money, one could do almost anything.
“Professor Webber?”
Raine’s head jerked around at the sound of Nordie’s questioning call. “Yes?”
“Remember—eight o’clock sh
arp. Casual. It’ll be out by the pool, so you can swim, or dance, whatever.”
Raine smiled politely, wishing she could beg off without having to defend her reasons. She was sure she’d get an argument from Nordie, and it hardly seemed worth the effort. So she merely nodded. “Eight sharp. Fine.” She had no intention of going. Cotter would be there. She’d decline at seven-thirty with a convenient headache.
Nordie waved and disappeared out the door, leaving Raine alone with Ike, who was helping her off with her smock. “I don’t know, I’m not happy about this party idea,” he said.
Raine turned to face him as he took both of their smocks to the two empty hooks on the wall. She felt like saying he’d taken the words right out of her mouth. But she opted for the obvious question. “Why?”
He shrugged. “Never know who’ll sneak in with the guests and poke around where he has no business.”
Raine dropped her gaze to the metal box. “You don’t think anyone could be after this stuff?”
He walked back to her side, taking her elbow. “Don’t know. But I think I’ll keep a pretty low profile. And I’ve already asked Nordie to tell her friends to refer to me only as your date. Nothing about my being a cop. Too many questions can come from that.”
She nodded. “Okay. Low-profile date.” Even in her dispirited mood, that struck her funny and she managed a smile. “How do you do that, crawl around under the chairs asking, ‘Where’s Raine, my date?’”
He chuckled, pushing the tall door open for her: “That’s a good one. You surprise me sometimes.” He closed the door firmly and resumed his hold on her elbow as they walked toward the main house. “I’ll probably just mingle a little, stand in dark corners, and watch and listen.”
She nodded. “I see. What do you want me to do?”
He grinned at her. “You?” Squeezing her arm, he said, “You just have a good time and smile at me every once in a while. That way I’ll feel less like I’m working.”
Her smile was more one of embarrassment than anything else. And so was her blush. He was doing it again, acting as though he had a romantic interest in her. By now, she knew it was only an act. But she went along with it out of habit. Still smiling, she lifted her eyes to the cloudless sky and watched the swoop of a gull before she answered. “Have fun and smile. That sounds easy enough.” On the other hand, when she thought about it, having fun and smiling in the context of being around Cotter Hunt might not be so easy, after all. She’d have to work on that headache.
EIGHT O’CLOCK SHARP. Raine looked at herself in the mirror. With her fingers, she smoothed her hair behind an ear, listening to the doorbell chime every few minutes. It sounded as though it was going to be a big bash.
Casual. She looked at her white cotton slacks and pink button-down, short-sleeved shirt. Not exactly elegant. But it did fit the description “casual.” Nordie and Cammie had dropped by her room earlier, Nordie in a hand-knit sweater of brilliant multicolored ribbons and bows and orange calfskin trousers, Cammie in an understated navy sheath and a lightweight jacket. Somehow, when Raine had been about to explain about her headache, she just couldn’t do it. She was a coper, in the end. Prevaricating just wasn’t her style.
Just as Raine reached the bottom step of the winding staircase, Anona flowed in through the front door, looking sleek in a pewter-colored jumpsuit. She was alone. With a smile of recognition, she swept over to Raine, “Why, hello.” Her slanted eyes glowed with delight. “Isn’t this fun? I was happy to hear about Cammie and Carl, though I’ve never really seen them together. Cotter and I didn’t start dating until May.” She rested a manicured hand on Raine’s. “Speaking of Cotter, where is he?”
Raine didn’t know and didn’t want to know. She scanned the foyer, her gaze passing over the groups of guests that had not yet made it out onto the patio in back. “I don’t see him, Anona. Maybe he’s already by the pool.”
Anona’s eyes had been moving around the room, never quite focusing on Raine’s. Now they paused at the double doors that led onto the patio, decorated with paper lanterns. “Well, I guess I’ll go see.” Finally her eyes met Raine’s. “Good to see you.” Before Raine could answer, she was gone.
As Raine stood there trying to decide where to go, the front door opened abruptly without the usual chime. “Cotter…” She breathed, surprised, and then clamped her lips closed when she realized she’d spoken his name aloud.
He stopped rummaging in a leather folder and lifted his eyes to hers. She suddenly became aware that all the guests that had been milling around her moments ago were now gone, and only she and Cotter were left in the brilliantly lit foyer. But the sounds of the party carried through the open doors.
He frowned. “What’s going on?”
Apparently no one had told him about the festivities. Dressed in a silver suede jacket, black slacks, white shirt and black tie, he was obviously not prepared for a casual party. Raine regretted being in the position of telling him what his sister had arranged.
“Raine, please speak to me,” he persisted, his expression solemn.
She relented slightly. “You don’t know?”
He shook his head. “Why should I? It’s only my house.” A tired smile formed on his lips, and it was too melancholy to resist.
“Party. Combination baby announcement and going-away.”
His brows lifted. “Oh.” Slipping the leather folder under one arm, he inquired, “Is it formal, or Western, or is Nordie giving another one of her come-as-you-would-be-if-you-were-a-schizophrenic parties?”
“Casual.” She pretended to gaze at a group of guests gathering in the living room.
“I see.” His voice had grown much closer now, and she sought out his face for safety’s sake. It was best to know where this man was at all times. He was shaking his head, seemingly at the evening’s planned entertainment. “I’d better change. Would you tell my sister the telephone has finally been perfected? Next time, I’d appreciate knowing in advance when we’re entertaining.”
She nodded, dropping her eyes to the polished banister behind him. He’d taken one step up and was now on a level with her. She could feel the heat of his body near her and caught the scent of his mild cologne. She had been about to hurry away to a safe distance when she felt his fingers curl around her wrist. Her eyes darted to his.
He smiled hopefully. “I know I’m not a particularly smart man. But if you’ll forgive me, I promise I won’t work so hard at being stupid anymore.” He was keeping his tone carefully neutral. “And if you can’t forgive me, could you possibly speak to me in complete sentences?” He waited, his fingers firm and warm against her skin.
What were her alternatives? A surge of energy passed through her body as a result of his light touch. It weakened her resolve. Witty, soft words. They worked for a man with a face and body like Cotter Hunt’s. She almost resented his charisma; it seemed to go against her logical interpretation of the world. But here was a man who could be logical and bright, but devastatingly emotional as well—when he let himself be.
She tensed against him, not wanting to be vulnerable to him yet again. She disengaged herself from his light grasp, adjusting her gaze toward the double doors of the patio. His face was a blur of highlighted angles but she didn’t allow him to come into focus. With carefully spoken words, she told him, “Anona is looking for you.”
As she walked away, she heard him murmur, “Thank you.” For an instant, she had the distinct feeling that he was thanking her for the complete sentence rather than the information about Anona. When she stepped out into the cool of the evening, she shook her head, a humorless chuckle escaping her lips. Of all the foolish ideas she’d had about Cotter since she’d met the man, that was the stupidest yet.
COTTER WAS ALL TOO CONSPICUOUS that evening, dressed in white slacks and a white shirt. Ike, in black, was almost invisible. Cammie remained flushed and smiling throughout the festivities and, interestingly enough, so did Carl. Raine discovered that Carl had a hearty, deep laugh, much
like his brother’s. And when he was animated, Carl was almost as handsome as his brother.
Anona chattered and laughed all evening, too, but somehow, to Raine, the laughter eventually took on a hollow, false sound. Cotter seemed to be avoiding Anona, but she pursued him wherever he went.
Raine had never seen so much food, including delicacies she’d never before tasted; some were delicious and others merely exotic. Expensive champagne accompanied the feast. The students, under Nordie’s watchful eye, were careful to drink little and stay sober, for, Nordie reminded them brightly, the following day would be another workday.
It was nearly midnight when Cammie and Carl finally said good-night to the departing guests and Cammie pushed Carl’s wheelchair down the ramp and into the waiting car.
Fifteen minutes later, Raine was sitting on the wide marble railing, watching the low waves glisten in the moonlight as they moved silently over the sand. It was a beautiful night, crisp and still. Nordie’s voice, hailing her from a distance, broke the spell. “Professor Webber?”
She turned. “Hi!” Raine’s smile faded as she saw the young woman limping toward her. “What happened?”
Nordie shrugged. “Tripped on the front steps. Women’s high-fashion shoes are death traps. Hey, could you give me a hand?” She leaned heavily on the railing.
“Sure.” Raine hopped down. “What do you need?”
Nordie smiled pitifully, sweeping a hand toward the table that had served as a bar. “Could you carry these empty champagne bottles down to the cellar for me? The caterers cleaned up their own mess but the wine was ours, and like a dummy, I sent Hanna and Lys with Carl and Cammie to help them get set up, so there’s nobody else to do it.”
“The cellar?” Raine was a little surprised that she didn’t just want the bottles discarded.
Nordie bent down and groaned, unbuckling the strap of the high-heeled shoe on her injured foot. “Uh-huh. We recycle everything.”
