"I work here."
"But you're supposed to be out of town."
"The trip was canceled." His gaze quickly swept over her, taking in everything from the big red bows on her shoes to the butterfly in her pink hair. "Now it's my turn. What are you doing here?"
"I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I would drop off a payment." She reached up to take the string, which dangled between them. "I was just on my way out, so if you'll excuse me…"
He reached out to take the string and, in doing so, covered her hand with his own. Glancing at the balloon, he said, "Is this for me?"
Above their heads, the bright pink balloon announced, Get Well Soon. "I wasn't aware you'd been sick, but if the sentiment applies, by all means, please take it." She was acutely conscious of the receptionist watching them and listening to their ludicrous conversation.
"Do you have time for a cup of coffee?"
"Now?" she whispered. "Dressed like this? You've got to be kidding."
"Come on." He took her hand and started back the way he had come.
"Eric… I can't go in there looking like this."
"Why not?" He looked genuinely puzzled.
"What will your clients think? Worse yet… your partners?"
"Who cares?" He gave her hand a gentle reassuring squeeze, then lead her down a long hallway, past another reception area with several women working behind desks and into his office. Propriety was the last thing on his mind. All he could think about was how good seeing her again had made him feel. He wasn't about to let her get away. "What can I get for you?" he asked, laying his briefcase on his cleared desk. "Coffee? Tea? Or would you rather have a drink?"
"Coffee would be fine."
He pressed the button on his intercom. "Would you please bring in two coffees?" While he waited, he perched on the corner of his desk and stared at her. "How have you been?"
Trying to decide whether she was in the middle of a particularly vivid dream, Janet slowly walked the length of the room, stopping beside a wall of windows that gave a panoramic view of San Francisco Bay. Eric had been a frequent, uninvited visitor to her dreams lately, so she wasn't surprised he was with her now. That was the problem; she was absolutely sure she wasn't dreaming. "You're not even going to ask me what I'm doing in this getup?"
"If I had to take a wild guess, I'd say you work for one of those companies that delivers balloons instead of flowers."
She gave him an exasperated look. "Doesn't anything phase you?" Suddenly, not only did her nose itch, but so did her head. She felt as if she were breaking out in hives. She hated wearing wigs. Unable to stand the torment any longer, she tried slipping a finger in under the elasticized band that held the wig to her head, but she couldn't reach the spot. Finally, in frustration, she yanked the tightly coiled polyester curls off and gave her whole head a satisfying scratch.
Eric smiled at the incongruously beautiful and whimsical picture she made. Her raven hair shone brilliantly in the late-afternoon sunlight coming through the window; her eyes sparkled through the layers of makeup, and her body moved gracefully inside the voluminous polka-dot material of her costume. "You have to realize that I was raised in San Francisco—there isn't much I haven't seen."
There was a light tapping on the door. "Come in," Eric said.
A distinguished-looking woman in her mid-fifties entered, carrying a tray with a silver coffee service. She took it over to a sideboard. "Shall I pour the coffee for you, Mr. Stewart?"
"No, thank you, Mrs. Lucas. I'll handle it."
Janet pointedly watched Eric's secretary. Not even a slightly raised eyebrow, she noted, feeling impressed by the woman's calm acceptance of the fact that a clown was in her boss's office. Janet wondered whether Eric dealt with so many eccentric clients that odd-looking people were the norm rather than the exception or if the people who worked for him were so well bred that they wouldn't dream of showing surprise at her unorthodox appearance. Either way, she would have been more comfortable with an honest look of surprise.
"Cream?" Eric asked when they were again alone.
"Black is fine." She took the fine china cup and saucer from him. As she started to take a sip, she realized what a mess her makeup would leave on the cup. "Is there somewhere I could wash this off?" She indicated her face.
Eric gave her instructions to the women's lounge. This time when she walked through the reception area, she caught one of the secretaries staring at her. So they were human, after all.
Normally she removed her makeup with cold cream. Today, she would have used a scraper to get it off. After several washes and rinses, which gave her complexion a rosy glow, she was finally satisfied. She tried finger combing her hair but decided it was a lost cause and headed back to Eric's office.
As she entered, Eric looked up from some papers he was reading. "Quite a transformation," he said, an appreciative spark lighting his eyes.
"I never should have come here dressed like this," she said, giving voice to the thought preying on her mind.
"You could have been dressed like a gorilla, and I wouldn't have minded." He had had no idea how much he'd wanted to see her again until he'd opened the door and there she was. "How have you been?" He unbuttoned his coat and leaned back in his chair.
Janet stuffed her hands in her pockets, nervously ballooning her baggy suit as she tugged on the material. "Fine…and you?" Suddenly bits and pieces of the dreams she had been having the past week came floating back into her memory. Walks on beaches… candlelight dinners… slow, clinging dances in the moonlight…lips…caresses… She felt her face crimson and quickly looked away.
"Except for a little lingering stiffness from a broken leg I had a while back, I've felt better lately than I have in a long time." Recently his days had seemed somehow brighter and filled with expectation. "How is your friend Casey? Did everything work out all right when the police got in touch with her?"
Grateful for the distraction, Janet concentrated her thoughts on her friend. She smiled at the memory. Just as she had predicted, Casey had come unglued when she'd found out she had been working for a ring of professional car thieves. "Thanks to Casey's propensity for detail, the police not only have Louie in custody, they have a complete description of every car she ever 'repossessed' for him, including the license plate numbers. The district attorney's office is delighted with her." She picked up her coffee and took a sip, grimaced and put it down again. "I waited too long, I guess."
Eric got up to pour her a fresh cup. "Do you have any plans for dinner tonight?" he asked impulsively.
Janet blinked. Had she heard him right? Was he asking her to go to dinner with him? "I… uh… I have a tuna fish sandwich down in the car."
He smiled easily. "Do you suppose I could talk you into forsaking the tuna fish and going out with me?" His heart was beating so loudly that he was surprised she didn't comment on the noise. "I assume you have other clothes with you?"
"Yes… I do." He couldn't have surprised her more if he'd opened the window and asked her to jump out. "But I can't have dinner with you." She looked at her watch. "I have to be to work in less than half an hour." With careful planning and quite a bit of juggling, she had arranged her class schedule this semester so that her Tuesdays and Thursdays were free. That enabled her to work her two jobs in the city back to back. It made for long days, sometimes sixteen hours or more, but it saved a lot of travel time.
Disappointment stabbed through Eric. "Tomorrow, then?"
Tomorrow she took care of Brian and Amy from three until ten o'clock. "Tomorrow's bad, too."
"Friday?"
In order to earn as much money as she could to pay Eric, she had agreed to take over one of the other drivers' late-night shifts at Coachman's this coming Friday even though she desperately needed the time for study. Quickly she went over her schedule for the upcoming week and then for the next. She gave Eric an apologetic smile. "How about a week from Friday?" she said, her flustered state making her answer sound flippant.
<
br /> A week from Friday was ten days away. She obviously wasn't as anxious to see him as he was to see her. Deciding it was better to give her an opportunity to back out graciously rather than force the issue, Eric returned her smile and said, "I've never been turned down so creatively."
It was on the tip of her tongue to protest that she hadn't turned him down, when something stopped her. It was pure insanity to let anything get started between them. Eric was distracting enough in her fantasies .She hadn't the time nor energy to cope with him in reality. "Thank you for understanding." She almost choked on the words.
"Janet… don't kill yourself trying to pay me back. I'm in no hurry for the money."
"I know… I'll just feel a lot better when everything is taken care of between us." She really should leave. As it was, she would have to hit every light to be to work on time. She started toward the door. "Thanks for the coffee."
"Anytime."
She jumped when he reached behind her to open the door. If nothing else convinced her that she had made the right decision, her wildly racing heart and the ache that had just burst deep inside did the trick. The way she felt at that precise moment, she would have tossed everything else aside to spend the evening with him. It was crazy. She had to get away—and fast. "Thanks again, Mr. Stewart."
" 'Mr. Stewart'?"
"Eric." She suddenly realized that he intended to walk out with her. "Please don't bother; I can find my way out."
She sounded as if she were in a panic to get away from him. What could he have done to inspire such a reaction? "All right, Janet." He leaned against the door frame and watched her as she waked down the hallway. Once, before she went through the door at the end of the hall, she looked back at him, a tentative smile on her face.
Eric returned to his office, baffled by his continuing fascination with Janet Franklin. Although he had told himself he was giving her the right of refusal, he had no intention of letting that refusal prevail. He was not through with the beautiful woman with raven hair yet. Not by a long shot.
It was one-thirty that night before Janet finally pulled into the driveway at Carol's house. She should have been exhausted, but she felt wide awake and knew sleep would be a long time coming. She went into the kitchen and rummaged through the refrigerator, finally settling on a glass of milk and a small bunch of grapes. When she had finished both and had washed the glass and put it away, she headed down the hall to her bedroom. As she made her way through the dark house, she was surprised to see a light shining underneath Carol's door. Feeling an overwhelming urge for company, she hesitated only a moment before knocking.
"Come in."
Janet opened the door and looked inside. Carol was sitting in bed with a book on her propped up knees. "Is everything okay, Carol?"
Dropping her chin, Carol peered over the top of her reading glasses. "Everything's fine. Why do you ask?"
"You're usually not up this late."
"I started a new book when I went to bed and it's so good that I can't put it down."
Janet sighed. "And I'll bet it has nothing to do with biology or physics or Shakespeare. What a luxury."
"Actually it's an old-fashioned, ten-hankie love story. I'd be happy to lend it to you when I'm through. It's wonderful."
"No, thanks. The last thing I need right now is a love story."
Carol immediately honed in on Janet's wistfulness. She patted the bed beside her. "Come sit down; we'll talk about this."
"For God's sake, don't encourage me." But she went in anyway, and sat down on the foot of the bed.
After studying Janet for several seconds, Carol took her kindergarten-made bookmark from the night-stand, placed it at her page and laid the book aside. "Don't tell me—let me guess. You've seen Eric Stewart again."
"How did you know?"
"Motherhood does wondrous things for latent intuitive skills. The only thing I'm having trouble with is whether the meeting turned out good or bad. The way you look, it could be either."
"He asked me out…"
"And?"
"I told him no."
"You what?"
"Well, I didn't really say no; it just sounded like I did."
A look of understanding flashed in Carol's eyes as she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her legs. "You put him off so far into the future that he thought you weren't interested."
"That's about the size of it."
"And now you're sorry you didn't bother to explain."
She took a minute to think about her answer. "That's my problem—I don't know whether I am or not. Under anything close to normal circumstances, I would jump at the chance to go out with someone like Eric. But the way my life is now…"
"Janet, you can't possibly be planning to hibernate the entire time it takes you to get your degree."
"Before Eric appeared in my life, I hadn't given it much thought." She kicked of her shoes and pulled her legs up. "He's the first man I've thought twice about turning down. Everyone else was easy."
"Then why did you turn him down?"
"If I have to arrange time to write my folks a letter, where am I ever going to squeeze Eric into my life?"
Carol thought for a minute. "Maybe I could rearrange my schedule so you could have a night off from the kids once in a while."
"If we did, it would just make me feel guiltier than I already do. Our agreement is woefully lopsided in my favor as it is."
"You're absolutely wrong, Janet. The complete peace of mind I have, knowing you're taking care of Brian and Amy, is worth ten times your room and board. Until you have children of your own, you'll never understand how invaluable you are to me."
"Still, you're gone so little as it is, I wouldn't feel right if you stayed home more."
"What about next Friday and Saturday?" Carol asked, trying another tack.
Carol's mother and father were flying in from Charleston, South Carolina, to spend a week with their grandchildren before going on to Hawaii, which meant Janet would have the weekend free. "That's fine, but what about after that?" Janet reasoned. "No matter how I juggle or rearrange or try to squeeze one more thing into my schedule, it just won't fit. The timing couldn't be worse. And unless I have some long-lost relative who has put me in his will, my life is going to be exactly the same for another two and a half years— if I'm lucky enough to graduate by then, that is."
"I don't know what to tell you, Janet. You've obviously spent a lot of time agonizing over this already."
"I have. Now, if I could just get my heart to listen to reason, I'd be doing all right."
"This guy must really be something special."
Janet smiled. "He is—or at least he seems to be. And if he's not, I'd like a chance to find out for myself." She swung her feet back onto the floor. "Now if I could just get him to agree to wait around for a couple of years while I work on my degree…"
"How do you know he wouldn't?"
Janet tossed a disbelieving snort over her shoulder as she headed for the door. "Be reasonable, Carol. What man would ever agree to being put on hold for that long?"
"How do you know until you ask?"
"You've been reading too many romances. This is real life." But as Janet said good-night and closed the door, she couldn't deny the nagging wish for a different answer to her dilemma. Eric Stewart was the first man since her courting days with Robert who had made her feel as if clouds were made to walk on.
5
Freshly showered and shaved, and dressed in faded jeans and a yellow polo shirt, Eric poured himself a cup of the strong aromatic Turkish coffee he brewed on weekends and climbed out onto the deck of The Promise. A light breeze ruffled his damp hair as he squinted against the brilliant morning sunlight. All around him the gulls noisily called to one another, announcing the new day.
Earlier that year, through time and persistence and a touch of bribery, he had finally secured a mooring at the end of the dock—a choice position allowing him an unrestricted view of San Francisco, which sat
across the Bay gleaming in the morning sunlight like a multi-faceted jewel.
It had been a hectic week mentally, and he was looking forward to the hard physical labor he had planned for this weekend. He needed something that demanded his full attention to take his mind off the intense merger negotiations he had been working on the past month for the firm's largest client. Tearing out, matching and replacing several strips of damaged teak in the forward cabin would not only provide a distraction, but when finished, it would give him a sense of satisfaction the merger never would.
Eric cherished this time of the morning on The Promise for its relative quiet and solitude. Too soon the docks would be filled with weekend sailors readying their boats for a day on the water. Then the tourists who had come to visit the shops and restaurants of Sausalito would wander over.
Compared to the neighboring yachts, which were all valued in the million-dollar range, The Promise was an eyesore. Built in 1937, the ninety-two-foot-long sailing ship had gallantly, if not always steadfastly, survived a string of indifferent owners and a sinking in Puget Sound. Eric had found her through a yacht broker. When he'd flown down to Long Beach to have a look, he'd fallen in love at first sight. Seeing through the years of neglect, he had known immediately that this was the ship of his dreams—the vehicle to carry him on his journey around the world.
It had taken him several months of late nights and weekends to get the smallest cabin, the galley and one of the heads restored and fully functional before he could move in. That had been nearly five years ago. Since then he had gone through the interior completely, restoring where he could, replacing when necessary and updating the navigational guidance and communications systems with state-of-the-art equipment. The engine work he had turned over to experts; everything else he had done himself. All that remained, other than some finish work in the forward cabin, was the restoration of the deck and the installation of new sails.
Footsteps on the dock behind Eric drew his attention. He glanced up and saw Elizabeth Goodson coming toward him. He smiled in pleasure. "What have I done to deserve such a delightful surprise?" he called out to her as he moved up to the bow to meet her. Elizabeth and Walt had guessed long ago what he had in mind for The Promise and, after helping him restore the teak walls in the master cabin last summer, had confessed that they were seriously thinking about signing on as part of the crew the day he finally set sail.
A Week from Friday Page 6
