Catherine Spencer - Christmas Passions
Page 4
Trouble was, her own motivation was too murky to allow her to speak so plainly. Because the truth was, she’d like nothing better than to throw a monkey wrench in the works and set Leo free to pursue a relationship with her.
And what kind of friend did that make her?
CHAPTER FOUR
HE AND Ava were avoiding each other. Beyond exchanging a flickering glance of acknowledgement when she arrived at the Manville’s home for the dinner party, she’d behaved as if he were just another piece of highly polished furniture, and he’d gravitated to the other end of the room to take up his post next to the glittery artificial Christmas tree.
“Who’s that lovely, long-legged stork of a gal?” Cousin Ethel inquired, sidling up to him as the pre-dinner cocktail hour began to wind down.
“Which one?” he asked, gazing vacantly around the room at the mob of guests, and doing his utmost to look properly puzzled.
Playing dumb with the duchess had never worked. She was too smart, too observant and too outspoken for her own good, and the fact that she’d just turned eighty-four—she wasn’t actually his cousin, but his father’s several times removed—didn’t impair her faculties in the least.
“This might be my third martini, boy, but I’m a long way from being plastered,” she declared, chewing on her olive. “You know very well which one, given that she’s the reason you’re lurking behind this appalling tree so you can ogle her through its silly artificial branches.”
“Oh, her!” he said, removing a skein of tinsel festooning his left ear, and feeling as big a fool as he no doubt must look. “She’s just the daughter of one of the neighbors.”
Not to mention the sexiest creature in the western hemisphere. In her sleek retro dinner dress, Ava might have stepped out of some classic 1930’s drawing room drama. “Elegant” was the word which most immediately sprang to mind, although other, less intellectual parts of him stirred with an even greater appreciation for what lay beneath that shining length of slinky black satin.
“Then she’s a friend of the diminutive Deenie’s?”
“That’s right,” he managed, on a strangled breath as Ava shrugged one shoulder and sent ripples of reflected candlelight shimmering down her torso.
“Aha! Introduce me.”
“What?”
Ethel knocked back the rest of her martini and eyed him balefully. “Something wrong with your hearing, Leo, or has joining the sleaziest profession on God’s earth addled your brains to the point that you can’t understand simple English?”
Caught squarely between amusement and annoyance, he tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and cruised her over to where Ava leaned against the grand piano, sipping champagne and chatting altogether too cosily with some imported suit wearing too much jewelry.
“Hi,” he said, striving to appear unmoved by the sight. “Someone here wants to meet you. Ethel Whitney, this is Ava Sorensen. And…?”
“Bret Turner,” the suit supplied, flashing a mouthful of perfectly capped teeth. “Charmed to make your acquaintance, madam.”
Ethel nodded. “No doubt. Go amuse yourself with someone else, young man, and leave me to get acquainted with this enchanting lass. Not you, Leo,” she commanded, snagging him by the elbow just as he was about to make his escape. “I’m talking to Mr. Turner. You stay put and be sociable.”
His problem, Leo decided, stifling a groan, had less to do with the fact that Ethel was a domineering dowager used to doling out orders with imperial disregard for the wishes of others, than it had with his having been brought up to show respect toward the elderly regardless of how unreasonable their demands might be. So, like a dog highly trained in obedience, he remained rooted to the spot even though his every instinct told him to hotfoot it away with all due speed.
Ava offered her hand. “How do you do, Ms. Whitney? I’m delighted to meet you.”
Ethel inspected Ava’s short oval nails, painted the same rich cranberry colour as Leo had noticed on her toenails two nights previously, and the slim, capable fingers. “Good hands as well as good manners,” she pronounced with satisfaction. “Good bones, too. Are you a model, child, or merely a model child?”
Ava laughed, a low rich ripple of amusement which further captivated Ethel. “Neither, I’m afraid. I’m an ICU nurse, and my mother blames me for all her grey hairs.”
“A nurse? The hell you say! And was Leo your patient when he injured his back?”
“I was never in ICU, duchess,” he said, almost breaking out in a sweat at the thought of Ava giving him a bed bath.
Simultaneously, Ava said, “No. For the last three years, I’ve worked in Africa, but I came home on leave to spend Christmas with my parents and to spend some time with my friend Deenie. We don’t often find ourselves in the same place at the same time, these days.”
With mounting approval, Ethel scrutinized her from head to foot. “You and she are very close, are you?”
“Very.” Ava’s smile grew a tad strained and she shot a defiant glance Leo’s way before continuing, “We’ve been best friends since our mothers enrolled us in the same ballet academy when we were four. We might not be blood sisters, but the bond between us is as strong as anything identical twins might know.”
“Yet unlike twins, you aspire to different ambitions.”
“Yes, although, at one time, becoming a prima ballerina was my dream, as well. But even if I’d had the talent—which I didn’t—I grew to be much too tall. At five nine in my bare feet, I’d have towered over most male dance partners when I was en pointe. So I exchanged my tutu for a uniform, my ballet slippers for white Oxfords, and enrolled in nursing school in Vancouver at about the same time that Deenie, who was both supremely gifted and petite, flew to Britain to train at London’s Royal Ballet School.” Her smile this time was more genuine. “‘Teenie Deenie’, Madame Antonia, our teacher, used to call her.”
“How nauseatingly quaint,” Ethel snorted. “And what did she call you, my dear?”
“I didn’t rate a pet name.”
“Praise the Lord! Now let’s talk about you and Leo.”
“There’s nothing to talk about, duchess!” he blurted, nearly swallowing his tongue. Cripes, if she ever got wind of the other night, she’d be blackmailing him for the rest of her days—and his!
“Au contraire, mon cher,” Ethel decreed, regarding him with the fond contempt of one being pestered by a beloved but tiresome child. “However, if we’re boring you, consider yourself free to go peddle your funny papers elsewhere.”
Ava choked on her champagne and tried to cover it up with a polite cough. And he, who hadn’t blushed since he was in diapers more than thirty-five years ago, felt his face redden.
“If I’d known you were going to give Ava the third degree like this,” he muttered, “I’d never have introduced you in the first place!”
Ignoring him, she fixed Ava in a benevolent gaze. “Tell me how you came to know Leo.”
“We used to live practically next door to each other. I’ve known him as long as I’ve known Deenie.”
“I see. And do you consider him a close friend, too?”
Involuntarily, Ava’s glance locked again with his, and this time a flush stained the smooth golden perfection of her cheeks. “Not exactly. He was older and we didn’t share much in common.”
“I’m sure you didn’t—at least,” Ethel said, after a significant pause, “not back then. Try though I might, I can’t picture Leo in tights, looking as if he’s got a purse full of loose change stuffed in his—”
“Ethel!” This time, he roared. Loud enough for heads to turn all over the room.
Alarmed, Gail Manville, Deenie’s mother, came fluttering over, her rope of pearls swinging like a hula hoop around her well-toned neck. “Is there a problem, Leo?”
Hell, yes! And it was compounding by the minute! “My cousin’s a little hard of hearing, especially with so much background noise,” he improvised, taking grim satisfaction in Ethel’s affronted gasp. �
�Of course, at her age, it’s to be expected.”
“Poor old dear!” Failing to recognize the scorn with which Ethel regarded her, Gail patted her arm consolingly. “I quite understand, Mrs. Whitney. My mother’s rather ancient, too, and has the same problem. But we’ll be sitting down to dinner shortly and I think you’ll find it easier to follow what’s being said then because instead of trying to cram everyone into the dining room, I’ve had the caterer set up tables for four throughout the conservatory, and we’ll change dinner partners with each course. It’ll be such fun, and you’ll get the chance to meet people a few at a time, which I’m sure you’ll find a lot less confusing.”
“Great balls of fire, the woman’ll be organizing us into teams and having us play spin the bottle before the evening’s out!” Ethel fumed, loudly enough that Gail must have heard.
But if she did, she gave no sign. Instead, she drew Ava aside and said, “Deenie disappeared to take a phone call in her room about half an hour ago and hasn’t been seen since. Would you mind getting her down here, dear? Dinner’s about to be served, but we can’t very well start without her.”
“I can,” Ethel declared, as Ava made tracks for the stairs and Gail hurried to confer with the chef beckoning to her from the butler’s pantry. “If I don’t get something solid in my stomach soon, I’m likely to keel over.”
“And if you don’t start behaving yourself as of right now, I’ll be shipping you out of here before you’re even halfway through your soup,” Leo threatened. “Are you deliberately trying to land me in hot water?”
“You don’t need my help to do that, dear boy,” she said, all sunny smiles. “You’re doing a splendid job of it all by yourself—with a little help from the lovely Ava.”
He didn’t ask what she meant by that remark. He didn’t want to know.
When she finally ran her to earth in her en suite bathroom, Ava saw at once that Deenie had been crying. “Talk to me,” Ava begged, handing her another tissue and scooping the soggy wad already heaped on the vanity into the waste-basket. “Good grief, Deenie, you know there’s nothing you can’t tell me.”
But the old Deenie, who’d have poured out her heart in a flash, had been taken over by a secretive stranger. “It’s nothing,” she sniffed. “I’m just feeling…” Her voice quavered briefly. “…a little letdown. Someone I’d hoped would come to his…um, tonight’s shindig, isn’t going to make it, after all.”
“I’m sure that’s very disappointing, but it doesn’t change the fact that there’s a roomful of hungry guests downstairs raring to start dinner, and your mom would like it if you’d put in an appearance. It doesn’t look good for the only genuine home-grown celebrity to go AWOL.”
“Have you seen Leo?”
“Oh, yes!” Ava replied, with more feeling than she’d intended. Between him and Ethel, she’d seen plenty! “I imagine he’s wondering what’s keeping you away, as well.”
“I’d be surprised if he even noticed I was gone.” Deenie’s lower lip trembled ominously.
Recognizing another bout of weeping was imminent, Ava said bracingly, “All right, Deenie, the pity party’s over. If you’re this uncertain about your relationship with Leo, for heaven’s sake say so now, and put us all out of our misery.”
“Leo isn’t the problem, I am.”
“That much I already figured out. The question is, why?”
“I’m overtired and stressed out and…” She rotated her shoulder, flexed her injured ankle and winced. “Sore.”
“In that case, take an analgesic for the pain, and make a point of getting to bed early. You’ll be surprised what a decent night’s sleep will do for you.”
“You’re not dishing out orders in ICU now, Ava, and I won’t be spoken to like that,” Deenie said peevishly.
“And you’re not starring in your own tragic ballet, so get rid of the superstar attitude! You’re dating a wonderful man, not facing lethal injection on death row.”
Deenie’s head drooped like a faded blossom on her slender neck. “Being stuck in this backwater over Christmas feels like a death sentence. I’m not exactly a poster child for small-town living, in case you haven’t noticed. I’m used to bright city lights and action.”
Ava blew out a long, frustrated breath and headed for the door. “You’re imparting that little gem of news to the wrong person, old friend. Why don’t I go get Leo and you can tell him to his face what you really think about settling down with him?”
“Don’t you dare do any such thing!”
“Why not? If you’re so certain he’s buying you a ring for Christmas, don’t you think he has a right to know how you feel before he shells out his hard-earned money?”
“No.” Deenie snatched up another tissue, gave her face a final scouring, and searched in the medicine cabinet for drops to take the red out of her eyes. “Just blowing off steam to you is enough to make me feel better.”
Ava wished she could say the same. But for the first time ever, her loyalty was torn between her oldest, dearest friend, and a man to whom she was so powerfully drawn that it was a wonder sparks didn’t fly when she found herself in the same room with him. That both he and Deenie were separately ambivalent about their liaison added yet another wrinkle to the dilemma.
“Don’t look so worried,” Deenie said, inspecting herself one last time in the mirror. “You ought to know me well enough by now to realize I’m not nearly as suicidal as I sound. Leo’s a darling and I don’t need you or anyone else to tell me I’m the luckiest woman in the world to have run into him again when I did.”
“I agree,” Ava said glumly.
“All right, then! Let’s go join the party. Did you get to meet many people earlier?”
“A few. An investment banker named Bret was very attentive, and those out-of-town guests you mentioned, the ones whose flight you met yesterday.”
“Ah, yes, Paul and Lynette Markov. They’re two other principals from our dance company, en route to Santiago for the spring tour, but they took a little side-trip to see me before heading south.” Deenie’s expression grew almost crafty. “Did you happen to notice if they spent any time at all chatting with Leo?”
“No,” she said shortly. “I had better things to do than keep tabs on him. But he did introduce me to the duchess.”
“Oh, you poor thing! I warned you evil Ethel’s a royal pain in the rear—and a scary sight in all that silver lamé, don’t you think? Looks as if someone tried to shrink-wrap her in aluminum foil!”
“That’s cruel, Deenie!” But Ava laughed anyway, glad to see the old familiar Deenie had vanquished the distraught stranger of a few minutes ago.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE Manvilles’ conservatory, a soaring masterpiece of glass architecture reminiscent of the Victorian era at its most splendid, had been transformed into a Christmas wonderland. Hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of miniature lights draped the tropical foliage. Underwater flood lamps spot-lighted the stone fountains. Glimmering white pillar candles clustered cheek by jowl with banks of scarlet and pink poinsettias. And as a final festive touch, a live fir tree sparkling with antique glass balls stood in the middle of the atrium, tall enough that its topmost branches brushed the peak of the pagoda-shaped roof.
Already famous for their lavish parties, this time the Manvilles had really outdone themselves. Georgian sterling, pearly French china and Austrian crystal graced tables cloaked in starched hunter-green linen. To the baroque guitar strains of “The Holly and the Ivy,” mimosa salad followed sherried consomme. “Good King Wenceslas” heralded the arrival of crayfish bathed in Pernod-flavored cream sauce. “The Twelve Days of Christmas” accompanied partridge stuffed with wild rice and spiced crab apples. “Here We Come A-Wassailing” kept company with palate-cleansing lemon sherbert served in fluted dishes no bigger than a thimble. And so it went, culminating in a flaming plum pudding stuffed with silver favours, and a dessert and cheese buffet which not even the most calorie-conscious diner could resist.
Knowing it marked the end of the evening for her, she waited until Deenie’s father ushered everyone into the music room for a finale of carol singing, then slipped away from the crowd and took refuge on a bench surrounding the trunk of a huge potted palm at the far end of the conservatory.
“I can’t take any more of this,” she moaned softly, pressing her fingertips to her closed eyes, and almost had a heart attack when a hand squeezed her shoulder and a voice she recognized only too well murmured, “Me, neither, Ava.”
Appalled, she sprang to her feet. “How did you know where to find me?”
“I saw you leave,” Leo said, “and followed you.” He inspected her narrowly. “You don’t look so well.”
“I have a headache.”
It was a woman’s oldest and lamest excuse since the beginning of time, but he accepted it without protest. “Then I’ll take you home. It’ll give me an excuse to escape this shindig, as well as be alone with you.”
She flung a furtive glance around before meeting his gaze. “You shouldn’t be here!” she whispered, shaken. “If anyone were to see us together…or hear what you’ve just said…!”
Ignoring her attempts to evade him, he massaged his thumbs over her temple in small, comforting circles. “Don’t flatter yourself that anyone gives a rap, Ava. Hell, the way the booze has been flowing, we could hide out in here for the rest of the night and no one would care.”
Miraculously, the pain was leaching away and leaving her almost drowsy with pleasure. “Deenie might, if she knew,” she said, doing her level best to resist the drugging seduction of his touch. “And both her family and mine certainly would!”
His fingers slid around her neck, warm and strong and intimate. “The question is, do you mind, sweetheart?”