Cross My Heart

by Phyllis Halldorson

  Elyse blinked and looked genuinely hurt. "Believe what you want," she snapped, then pushed back her chair to stand. "I'm sorry to rush you, but it's past time for Janey's nap. I'd like to go home."

  As they pulled out onto the freeway and again headed east toward Placerville, Clint swore silently to himself. So much for the investigative skills that had earned him such a fine reputation as a lawyer! He'd botched this from the minute he'd laid eyes on his brother's latest lit-tie beauty. He'd taken one look at her and let his emotions get involved. Which was sheer lunacy, since even if he wanted her—which he didn't—and she were as pure as the dolls she created, he still couldn't have her. Paul had first claim, which he apparently had no intention of relinquishing. At least not yet.

  But the fact remained that she'd deliberately and coldbloodedly lied to him. Both his public relations man and the private investigator had seen Paul and Mary E. Haley together, nights and on weekends, on numerous occasions. Why had she told him there was no special man in her life? What game was she playing? And how was he going to find out if he'd been so clumsy in his questioning that she'd never see him again?

  With a sigh he gripped the steering wheel. He knew what he had to do, and his distaste for the task came close to revulsion. If Elyse was willing to forgive him, he'd have to apologize and romance her a little. Make her think he was jealous. See if he could get her to admit she was seeing another man and what her motive was for lying about it.

  When all this was over, Clint intended to make damn sure Paul never put him in such an untenable position again. It was time little brother learned the facts of life: namely, that big brother Clint wasn't averse to kicking Paul's behind right out of the law firm if he didn't stop screwing up and start studying for his bar exam.

  Elyse sat quietly in the passenger seat with her hands folded in her lap, while Janey snoozed in the back. She should have known better than to let herself be captivated by a handsome stranger with a winning smile, a smooth line and a way with children. He was just like most of the other men she'd met since Janey was born; sure that because she'd had a child without benefit of wedding vows she must be a bit of a trollop, a hot little number who couldn't wait to jump in the sack with any man who showed an interest.

  Her stomach muscles knotted, and she wished she hadn't just eaten. She'd thought Clint was different. He'd seemed so gentle and understanding and genuinely interested in her and Janey that she'd let down her guard. She'd reacted to his charisma with the trust of a wide-eyed fifteen-year-old experiencing the first stirrings of her sexuality.

  The faint flutter of nausea reminded her to try to relax. Her sexuality had been stirred up years ago, and it had brought her both ecstasy and anguish. She'd never settle for less than the ecstasy, nor deliberately put herself in a position to experience more of the anguish.

  No sense getting so upset over this. Clinton Edwards didn't mean anything to her. Once they got home she'd thank him for his thoughtfulness to Janey, tell him goodbye and never see him again. So why did she feel as though she'd just been kicked in the stomach?

  She was so preoccupied with her disturbing thoughts that she jumped when Clint reached over and covered her clenched hands with his big one. "I'm sorry, Elyse," he said when she looked at him questioningly. "I didn't mean to frighten you, nor did I intend to upset you with my questions. I'm sorry if you thought I was probing. Actually, I was just trying to get to know you better."

  "By accusing me of lying?" She withdrew her hands from his.

  He recaptured one of them. "I wasn't accusing you of lying," he said softly. "I just find it difficult to believe you aren't overrun with suitors."

  "Because of my lax morals, you mean." It wasn't a question but a statement, and her tone was bitter.

  This time it was Clint who dropped her hand and stared. "What in hell are you talking about?"

  He really did look confused. For a moment she could almost believe her statement had shocked him, but she quickly regained her hold on reality.

  "Don't be coy with me, Clint," she shot back. "I've had four years of sly innuendos from men who assumed that since I had an illegitimate child I was just panting to go to bed with anyone who beckoned."

  She heard Clint's choked denial but was too incensed to stop. "I'll admit you used more finesse, but you were still leading up to the same old thing. I slept with Janey's father, therefore I should be eager to give you the same privilege. Well, forget it. I'm afraid you've wasted both your time and your money."

  Elyse had been so intent on what she was saying that she hadn't noticed they'd entered Placerville and were approaching her house. Clint pulled over to the curb, but before he could speak she had her seat belt off and the door open. She jumped out and jerked open the back door to grab her sleeping daughter, but somehow Clint was beside her.

  "I'll carry her," he said tersely.

  "Never mind. I'll carry her myself," she grated as she hauled the little girl out of the car and over her shoulder.

  "Elyse, if you'll just calm down and—"

  She didn't wait to hear what he had to say but hurried up the walk to the front porch.

  He rushed after her and caught up in time to put his arm around her waist and help her up the steps with her inert burden. When they reached the top, she shook free of his arm and tried to open her purse with one hand. He took it from her and extracted her key, then opened the heavy door and held it for her to enter. She did, quickly pushing it shut behind her. It locked automatically, leaving Clint standing outside, banging and calling to her to let him in.

  Elyse ignored him and carried Janey across the shop and into the hall, where she literally ran into her sister, Mary Elizabeth, who was hurrying toward the commotion at the door.

  They both stepped back, and Elyse's eyes widened with surprise. "Liz," she gasped, "I didn't expect you back from Monterey until late tonight."

  The pretty, dark-haired woman looked askance. "Obviously not. What on earth is going on out there? Do you want me to call the police?"

  Elyse shook her head. "No, he'll quiet down in a minute and go away. Excuse me while I put Janey to bed for her nap. Then I'll tell you all about it."

  "Please do," Liz drawled as the banging continued.

  Still seething, Elyse took Janey upstairs and laid her carefully on the single brass bed in the pink-and-white nursery next to her own bedroom. She took off the child's sneakers and socks and covered her with the hand-knit coverlet that was kept folded at the bottom of the bed, before kissing her on the forehead and closing the door behind her as she left.

  Downstairs the commotion had stopped, and a quick glance out the glass door revealed that the expensive Cadillac was no longer parked at the curb. But in the back parlor, which they used as a family living room, Liz had no intention of letting the subject drop. "I take it that was one of your disappointed suitors?"

  Elyse grimaced. "Spring seems to bring out the rutting instinct in males."

  Liz raised one eyebrow. "Honey, you bring out the rutting instinct in males. What did this one do that was so awful?"

  Elyse shrugged. "Actually, he didn't do anything. It was more what he said."

  "So what did he say?"

  "Well, it wasn't so much what he said as how he said it." Elyse was beginning to realize she may have overreacted.

  "Good grief, woman," Liz exploded, "did the man do anything to warrant getting the door slammed in his face or not?"

  Elyse slumped in the old-fashioned leather rocker. "Yes. Oh, I don't know. He was subtle, but…well, I made a mistake going out with him. He just wandered in here yesterday looking for a doll—"

  She told her sister everything that had happened during the past two days with Clint. "Maybe I did overreact," she said in conclusion, "but he seemed to assume I was just a party girl always looking for a good time."

  Liz sighed and brushed a lock of short dark hair off her forehead. "Elyse, you're too sensitive. Everyone in town knew you were engaged to Jerry and making plans t
o be married when he died. None of them are throwing rocks at you. And as for other men… ? They're only reacting to the way you look. Face it, sweetie, with that wild hair and husky voice—to say nothing of all your other natural attributes—you could turn on the proverbial stone statue. Enjoy it, for heaven's sake. Most of us would sell our souls for a little of what you've got in such abundance."

  Elyse shook her head. "I don't know. Raising a child alone is such a responsibility. I'd like to marry someday. I need a man in my life and Janey needs a father, but for both our sakes I have to be careful. I'm as susceptible as any other woman to a good looking guy's advances, but I won't get involved in a romance that's not leading to a commitment."

  Liz drew her legs up under her on the wheat-and-brown homespun couch and leaned against the thickly padded arm. "I wish I had your good sense and your self-discipline," she said.

  The ragged edge to her voice made Elyse look up. She'd been too preoccupied to notice before, but her sister was considerably more subdued than she should be after spending a weekend on the magnificent and expensive Pebble Beach Golf Course with a wickedly handsome partner.

  "Liz, is something wrong?" Elyse paused, then continued. "Why are you and Paul home from Monterey so early? You didn't quarrel, did you?"

  Liz uttered an unladylike snort. "We'd have been smarter if we had! Instead we spent the night together—as in one room, one bed and one hell of a lot of fantastic loving."

  Elyse grinned. "Well, then, what are you moping around about? Sounds like a mutually satisfactory weekend. You and Paul have been dating for several weeks, and Paul's feelings for you have been pretty obvious. You must have known where this was leading."

  Liz looked stunned. "I'm old enough to be his mother!" she shrieked.

  Elyse's smile faded, and a look of disbelief replaced it. "Mary Elizabeth Haley, you're an idiot! Ten years is a long way from a generation, and what does his age have to do with anything? Apparently he wasn't too young to perform."

  "Don't be crude," Liz snapped heatedly. "You know perfectly well what I'm saying. He's just out of law school. Hasn't even passed the bar yet. I never intended things to go this far. We started out as golfing partners. We were well matched and I liked him, so when he asked me to go out with him I did."

  She threw out her arms. "It just snowballed from there. I knew my feelings were getting out of hand, that I should stop seeing him, but he wouldn't let me. Kept teasing me about my 'absurd age fallacy' as he called it."

  She dropped her hands back in her lap. "I must have been out of my mind to agree to go with him this weekend, even though we had booked separate rooms. I'm no starry-eyed virgin. I know all about lust, even if I do have middle-aged spread and crow's-feet." Her voice broke, but she continued. "I've made a damned fool of myself, and I—I've told him I'm not going to s—s—see him anymore." She dropped her face in her hands, and a sob shook her shoulders.

  "Liz!" Elyse jumped up and crossed the few steps to the sofa. She sat down and put her arms around her sister. "You do not have middle-aged spread and crow's-feet, and we're not talking lust but strong mutual attraction and caring. You're taking this business of age too seriously. It doesn't seem to bother Paul. Why should it bother you?"

  "B—b—because I'm old enough to know better. We're not discussing Joe Blow here. Paul's ancestors came to California with the gold rush and have been movers and shakers in state politics ever since. His grandfather was lieutenant governor, and both his father and older brother have served terms in the Senate."

  Elyse stroked Liz's back as her sister wept. "What does Paul's family have to do with anything?" she asked softly. "He may be younger than you, but he's certainly no child. He's two years older than I am and more than capable of making his own decisions. He doesn't need his father's permission to court you."

  Liz raised her tearstained face and reached into the pocket of her slacks for a tissue. "The problem is, it's gone past courting," she said, and blew her nose. "Paul's asked me to marry him."

  Elyse opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She was speechless.

  "You see?" Liz wailed accusingly. "You're as appalled as I am."

  Elyse shut her mouth and took a deep breath. "I'm not appalled, I'm surprised. Men don't usually propose marriage quite so quickly. Are you in love with him? Yes, of course you are. You wouldn't have gone to bed with him if you weren't."

  "It doesn't matter if I am or not, I've no intention of encouraging this lunacy." Liz wiped at her wet cheeks with the palms of her hands. "I told him no and sent him away. I'm just a novelty. The young women swarm all over him. He won't have any trouble replacing me with someone more suitable."

  Her efforts at drying her face were in vain as her tears spilled down it once again.

  Clint sat at the desk in the study of his large ranch-style house in Cameron Park and tried to work, but his thoughts kept returning to last Sunday and Elyse. He hadn't meant to make her so angry. Obviously she was more sensitive than he'd imagined about her status as an unwed mother.

  He hadn't even been thinking about that when he'd questioned her about her social life. He'd only wanted to make her stop lying to him and admit there was a man in her life. He'd wanted her to talk about Paul—where they went, what they did, how she felt about him. Instead she'd assumed he was coming on to her.

  He slapped his hand on the desk and stood up. Well, hell, that's what he had been doing, and no matter how he tried to rationalize his behavior, they both knew it. His little scheme to investigate her had blown up in his face and left him feeling like the bastard he was.

  He prowled around the room. Again, as had happened so often in the past three days and nights, the picture rose in his mind of her sitting next to him in the car, looking as if he'd just accused her of being the town tramp.

  He hadn't even understood what she was haranguing him about. It wasn't until she came right out and told him that he realized how his questions had sounded to her. All he'd wanted then was to hold her in his arms and apologize, to somehow take back the pain he'd caused her and wipe the look of bewildered hurt from her delicate face.

  He stopped at the window and looked out at the night, illuminated by trillions of twinkling stars and the slender crescent moon. He'd left shortly after she'd slammed the door and it had become apparent she wasn't going to let him in. There was nothing else he could do, and even if she had been willing to talk to him, he'd probably have managed to say the wrong thing.

  Early the following morning he'd flown to Washington, D.C. for a conference on national party issues, and he'd only just returned, so he hadn't had a chance to go back to try to straighten things out with her. He knew now what he was going to do, though, and it wasn't harass Elyse. He was going to deal with his brother, as he should have done in the first place.

  Clint returned to the desk, picked up the phone and dialed Paul's apartment in Sacramento. Although the home in Cameron Park belonged to their parents, their father and mother used it only as a stopping off place between winters in Palm Springs and summers at Lake Tahoe since their father's retirement after a stroke six years ago. Clint stayed in residence, but sharing a house with his big brother wasn't part of Paul's free, swinging style.

  The phone at the other end rang eight times before Clint broke the connection. He looked at his watch. Quarter to ten. Paul was probably out with Elyse. Clint's muscles tightened. Dammit, he was going to get some straight answers—and soon.

  He made his decision: he'd stop in at the law firm in the morning and confront Paul in person. He'd had enough pussyfooting around.

  Elyse lay on her back in her big old-fashioned four-poster pineapple bed and tried to relax into sleep. It wasn't going to be any easier tonight than it had been for the past three nights.

  If only she didn't see Clint Edwards every time she closed her eyes.

  It had been three days since they'd quarreled, and she hadn't seen or heard from him. Not that she expected to. She'd made it unmistakably clear she wasn'
t interested in anything he might propose, so why did her gaze follow every car that went past the house? Why did her heart speed up every time the doorbell or the telephone rang?

  She hardly knew the man, for heaven's sake. He might even have a wife. He'd denied having children, but that didn't mean he wasn't married and looking for a little extra action.

  She rolled onto her side and punched her pillow into a more comfortable position. She didn't need Clint to haunt her dreams; she had enough trouble with Liz. In fact, her sister was getting to be a real pain. She was obviously miserable, but it was her own fault. She wouldn't talk to Paul Sterling either on the phone or in person, and she wouldn't listen when Elyse tried to reason with her. She just kept spouting nonsense about how totally unsuitable it would be to marry a man so much younger.

  Elyse flipped to her stomach and clutched the pillow in her arms. Liz should thank God for sending a man like Paul Sterling into her life. He'd admitted to being something of a hell raiser in high school and college, but if that was true he seemed to have worked it out of his system. Oh, he still had a streak of youthful exuberance, but he was thoughtful and considerate, and he obviously adored Liz. Elyse didn't doubt Liz felt the same way about Paul, so why was she being so stubborn?

  There were times when she thought her elder sister was a throwback. Older women married younger men all the time these days, and nobody thought anything of it.

  Elyse just wished she had a man like Paul to love her. No, that wasn't quite accurate. She wished she had a man like Clint Edwards to love her. Or at least a man like the man Clint had seemed to be.

  She clutched the pillow harder. He'd made her heart race and her imagination soar. Why did he have to turn out to be a skirt chaser like all the rest?

  Clint arrived at the law offices of Sterling, Fernald and Highsmith at eight o'clock the next morning, only to find that Paul had already been there and gone and would be tied up all day in court. Clint left a message for him to call.