Cross My Heart

by Phyllis Halldorson

  It was two days before she heard from Paul again. Meanwhile she'd managed to calm down sufficiently to stop snapping at everybody and her hands were again steady enough to paint faces on her doll heads.

  Although Liz often spent the weekends with Paul in his Sacramento apartment, on this Friday night in early May she had to chaperon the senior ball and Paul was immersed in his studies as the time for the bar exams drew near.

  Elyse was loading the dinner dishes in the dishwasher, when the phone rang. She picked it up in the kitchen. It was Paul. "Elyse, Alice, Clint's housekeeper, just called. She says he got back from L.A. late this afternoon and is now home and plans to stay there all night. He even referred all his calls to his answering service so he wouldn't be bothered. Good luck, sweetie, and don't worry. The poor idiot adores you."

  Elyse wished she was as sure of that as Paul seemed to be, but she wasn't going to think about her doubts. She'd been making plans while she waited, and now she dialed Janey's favorite baby-sitter and was assured that the girl would be at the house within half an hour.

  Next she went upstairs and told Liz, who was dressing for the dance, that she was going out and not to worry if she wasn't home by the time Liz returned. Her sister looked curious but managed to refrain from asking questions when it was obvious Elyse didn't want to answer.

  By the time she got to her own room she was having second thoughts but she refused to let them sway her. She marched resolutely to the closet and pulled out a small red overnight case and opened it on her bed.

  Again her hands shook as she began to pack; lacy underwear, a gossamer nightgown and peignoir in a delicate shade of lemon, matching satin slippers, toilet articles.

  When she finished she quickly stripped off her clothes and stepped into the shower.

  Elyse had just finished dressing in cream pleated slacks and a matching lightweight oversize sweater, when she heard the doorbell ring and Liz admit the baby-sitter. She picked up her purse and the small suitcase and walked out of the room.

  Liz's eyes widened as she saw Elyse coming down the stairs with the overnight bag, and when Elyse reached the bottom Liz said, "I assume you aren't planning to come home tonight?" It was part question, part statement.

  Elyse faltered. "I…I don't know. I hope not, but…"

  Liz reached out and stroked her sister's cheek with her hand. "Be careful, baby. Don't let yourself be hurt."

  The love in Liz's expression brought a lump to Elyse's throat and tears brimmed in her eyes. "I'll try not to," she said through a swallowed sob, "but I've found that nothing is free in this life. If you want something badly enough you have to go out and get it. So wish me luck." The two women embraced, then Elyse called Janey, kissed her goodbye and hurried out of the house.

  Chapter Six

  Clint leaned back in the leather recliner and closed his eyes. God, but he was tired. Not only had work accelerated at the Capitol, but the last few weeks of the campaign were always hectic, even though his nearest rival was well behind him in the polls.

  If only he could sleep once he finally did get to bed, it would help. He was used to long hours and late-night meetings, but he wasn't getting any younger. He could no longer function as efficiently as he used to without adequate rest. He hadn't slept worth a damn since Elyse…

  He opened his eyes and swallowed the rest of the drink he held in his hand. No, he wasn't going to think about Elyse. He was lucky he'd found out about her problem before he'd gotten any more deeply involved emotionally. Not that he'd been in any danger of falling in love with her. But she had gotten under his skin. She'd apparently also short-circuited his judgment, because he never would have believed she was the type to tease a man and then indignantly withdraw when he was half-crazy with desire.

  He shivered as the memory tore through him, then stood and took his empty glass to the kitchen. Four years ago when Dinah had left him he'd sworn he'd never again agonize or lose sleep over a woman. He wasn't about to break that vow now.

  He ran water in the glass, then turned it upside down in the sink. Who did he think he was kidding? He'd already broken it. He'd been running himself ragged all week trying to escape the touch, the taste and the feel of Elyse. She'd imprinted herself on his libido.

  He turned out the kitchen light and headed across the mammoth great room—the heart of the rambling ranch house, with its Douglas fir cathedral ceiling and its stone fireplace. The house faced west and was constructed with two separate wings extending from either side of the great room. The rooms opened onto the patio, swimming pool and gardens at the rear.

  Clint continued to the bedroom wing and the master bedroom suite. It was only nine o'clock, but Alice and Grover had left after dinner to drive up to Lake Tahoe with friends for a vacation weekend of gambling and shows at the casinos, so he was alone. He might as well take a shower and go to bed early. It was quiet, and just maybe he would be able to sleep.

  He stood for a long time under the hot stinging spray, letting it massage his aching muscles and relax his tense nerves. When he finally turned it off and walked nude into the bedroom, he heard the dogs barking and the doorbell ringing.

  Damn! Who could that be? No one knew he was back from Los Angeles.

  He debated ignoring the sound, but it wasn't likely anyone would make the trip all the way out here at this time of night unless it was important. He grabbed a pair of jeans from the dresser drawer and pulled them on as he headed toward the front door.

  It had taken Elyse a long time to find the Sterling home in the sprawling area of Cameron Park. The lots were measured in acres here, instead of feet, and the large affluent homes were set well off the roads at the ends of long narrow lanes. Stands of shade trees and flowering bushes afforded a maximum of privacy.

  Finally she'd stopped at a gas station and asked for directions. The helpful attendant had drawn her a map, and she'd started her quest over again. When she finally found the large ranch house, she discovered it was built on the bank of a small stream and she had to park in a private parking area and walk across a bridge to reach the front door.

  To make matters worse there were only two dim lamps illuminating the shrubbery near the porch steps. The rest of the house as well as the grounds were dark except for widely placed streetlights on the main road.

  At that point she'd been tempted to give up and turn back; it didn't look as if there were anybody home. But Paul had insisted Clint would be there. She couldn't leave without making sure.

  She'd reached for the small piece of luggage on the seat beside her, but hadn't immediately picked it up, torn between her innate distaste for appearing uninvited on a man's doorstep, overnight case in hand, and her need to convince Clint she was ready to make love if he wanted to.

  Now she'd been standing on his porch for the past several minutes, her finger pressed to the doorbell. So far all she'd managed to raise were several fierce-sounding dogs who were apparently contained somewhere on the other side of the house. Anyone in there couldn't help but hear the racket.

  She took her finger off the button, but the dogs continued to bark. Now what was she going to do? Undoubtedly Paul had been misinformed. There didn't seem to be anybody home, not even the housekeeper he'd mentioned.

  She turned around and looked back toward the main road. There weren't any cars going by. It was dark, spooky and deserted, and those dogs were sure to tear down whatever was holding them any minute.

  She shivered, resisting the urge to run back to the car and escape. With a last surge of determination she stabbed at the doorbell again and held it down.

  Just then a light went on inside the house, and seconds later the whole outside front of the house and grounds was lit. Elyse jumped and pulled her finger away as the massive carved wooden door opened and Clint, wearing only faded jeans, stood blinking at her. "Elyse. What are you doing here? Is something wrong?" He pulled the door wide and stood back. "Come in."

  She stared, caught totally off balance by the large expanse of ba
re muscular chest. She'd never seen him less than fully dressed, and the sight was intoxicating.

  Now that she had his undivided attention she wasn't sure she was doing the right thing, after all. He didn't look very pleased to see her. His features were stiff with surprise, and she was sure she saw annoyance there, too.

  As she hesitated on the porch he reached out to take her arm and pull her gently but firmly into the wide foyer. "Elyse, are you all right? Come in, for heaven's sake."

  He shut the door and his gaze roamed over her, stopping when it came to the suitcase in her hand.

  A hot wave of shyness and humiliation swept over her, and she ducked her head in hopes he wouldn't notice her flaming face. It was then she noted he was barefoot, and her startled glance flew upward to his disheveled hair.

  He looked as if she'd gotten him out of bed.

  Dear Lord, had she interrupted something? Her eyes widened with distress. Did he have a woman here? Surely he wouldn't be going to bed alone this early.

  A strangled moan forced its way past her throat, and she wished the floor would open up and swallow her. "I…I'm sorry," she wailed. "I should have called. I didn't think—" She turned and raced to the door, desperate to get away.

  Clint caught her easily. "Hey, wait a minute. Where are you going? What in hell is the matter with you?" He whirled her around and held her by the shoulders. "Now calm down and tell me why you're here." Again his gaze was drawn to her overnight bag as he took her arm and urged her forward. "Let me take that," he said, and removed the case from her hand.

  Elyse dug in her heels and refused to move. "Are you alone?" she asked hesitantly.

  "Yes, of course I'm alone. Who else did you think would be here?" There was a tinge of impatience in his tone.

  "I…well, nobody," she stammered. "But you…" She couldn't seem to lift her gaze from his chest.

  His glance followed hers, and he seemed to realize for the first time his state of undress. He frowned, and his grip tightened on her arm. "For God's sake, Elyse, I'm not going to attack you, but if it'll make you feel safer I'll get fully dressed."

  "No, please, it's not that." Oh, why on earth had she ever come here late at night, unannounced and uninvited? "I thought you might have… uh… company."

  She saw as well as heard his sharp intake of breath. "You mean you thought I was entertaining a woman in my bed." It was a statement, not a question. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but you caught me in the shower, alone." He sounded not only bitter but hurt.

  She felt the sharp pain of remorse. Why couldn't she make herself understood? She'd never had this problem before. Actually, she'd always been good at communicating with people, so why now that it was so important was she tongue-tied and slow-witted? If only she dared put her arms around him and nuzzle her face in his bare chest. If she could tell him how much she loved him… But that would just make him uncomfortable and complicate matters even more.

  She took a deep breath and prayed for strength. "Clint, that wasn't what I meant at all."

  She was amazed to find her voice was strong and clear. "I came here tonight because I've been trying to reach you by telephone all week, but I always just missed you. Paul told me you were planning to be at home all evening, so I hurried over, but I got lost, and then it looked like no one was home, and it was dark—"

  She stopped abruptly and put her hands over her mouth. She was rambling again. Good Lord, would she ever be able to talk to this man without sounding like an idiot?

  His hold on her arm loosened and his voice softened. "Why did you want to reach me?"

  She tipped her head back and looked straight into his dark green eyes. "I want to apologize for the way I behaved Sunday and to explain what happened."

  She saw the flash of pain before he blinked it away. "That's not necessary. I was out of line. You had every right to say no. I only wish you'd said it sooner."

  She could no longer resist the need to touch him, and she put her hand on his bare shoulder. The feel of his warm damp flesh sent tingles up her arm. "Please, Clint, just listen to me. It won't take long, and then I'll leave."

  For a moment his shoulder seemed to settle against her palm, but then he carefully but firmly moved away from it and led her into the room beyond. It was huge—the largest room she'd ever seen in a private home—and featured a mammoth stone fireplace, that thrust right through the high, beamed ceiling.

  They walked across the thick beige carpet to an oversized chair and ottoman upholstered in a tightly woven Indian design in shades of turquoise, beige and brown. "Sit down and wait for me," he said. "I'll put some clothes on and be right back." His eyes searched her face. "It won't do any good to try to run away. You need a key to unlock the door."

  He set the suitcase down beside her and walked across the room to disappear through an archway on the south wall.

  Elyse sank into the soft, thickly padded chair and curled her feet under her. She had a fleeting impression of the luxurious surroundings, but was too upset to really notice.

  Trembling with tension, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes in an effort to calm down as Clint had suggested. She took deep breaths and forced her muscles to relax one by one while she tried to clear her turbulent mind.

  Clint sprinted to the bedroom and pawed through a drawer in search of a shirt. His heart was racing and his mind was mired in confusion. What was Elyse doing standing on his doorstep at nine-thirty at night? Coming here was the last thing he'd expected from her.

  He grabbed a navy polo shirt and pulled it over his head. Why was she so upset? He'd never known her to lose her composure before. Of course he hadn't known her long, and every time he'd thought he had her figured out he'd discovered he was wrong, so he might as well admit he didn't really know her at all. Still, something was bothering her. He couldn't have misread the panic he'd seen on her face and heard in her tone.

  He looked in the mirror and grimaced. No wonder she thought he'd been interrupted in the middle of a hot-and-heavy session with a woman. He'd been toweling his hair dry when he heard the doorbell, and it was standing up in ail directions.

  He picked up a comb and started to smooth it down. Dammit, he was almost as unstrung as Elyse. He hadn't believed his eyes when he'd seen her standing there, holding an overnight bag and looking as if she expected him to slam the door in her face.

  He laid the comb on the dresser. Drop it, Sterling, he mentally castigated himself. He wasn't going to give her a second chance to manipulate him. He'd known all along this relationship was going nowhere, so now was the time to put an end to it. He'd listen to her apology, assure her she was forgiven and send her away.

  He rummaged in the closet for his house slippers and put them on. He'd remind her that soon they'd probably be related by marriage since his brother and her sister were lovers, so they'd always be friends.

  He ran his fingers through his newly combed hair. If only she hadn't brought along that suitcase. Did it mean she intended to spend the night? If so, did he have the strength to refuse?

  The carpeting was so thick Elyse didn't hear Clint returning until he appeared in the archway and headed toward the wet bar in one corner of the room. "Sorry for the delay," he said. "Is brandy okay for you, or do you prefer something else?"

  "I don't want anything to drink, thank you," she said, and straightened up in the chair.

  He took a bottle from the cabinet and poured its contents into two snifters. "I think you'd better. This brandy will settle your nerves."

  He picked up the glasses and walked across the room to hand her one, then took the matching chair on the other side of the fireplace. "So you had trouble finding the house? It's rather hidden."

  Elyse took a swallow of her drink and was grateful for the smoothness with which it slid down her throat. It was obvious he was trying to make this easier for her, but his thoughtfulness made things even harder.

  "I don't want to make small talk, Clint. I want to make you understand I wasn't teasing S
unday night."

  She saw his look of skepticism. "I know that's hard for you to believe after the way I acted, but I really did want to make love with you. I was just as eager as you were until…"

  She paused and took another sip of brandy. She'd played this scene so often in her mind and had known exactly what she was going to say, but now her mind was blank and she had no idea how to proceed. "Maybe it'll help if I tell you about Jerry."

  Clint frowned. "Elyse, I don't—"

  "Please, let me do this my way," she pleaded. "Jerry and I were high school sweethearts, and after graduation we enrolled at Sacramento State. We'd intended to get married after we'd gotten our degrees, but during our sophomore year we decided we couldn't wait any longer. Jerry gave me a ring and we announced our engagement. We were going to be married during the Christmas holidays, but we were both too impatient to wait that long to… to make love."

  Elyse was acutely uncomfortable. She'd never before discussed the intimate side of her relationship with Jerry, not even with Liz. It was private and personal, and not to be shared with anybody.

  She lowered her eyes and concentrated on the crystal snifter she was clasping with both hands. "The first time…" She paused and cleared her throat. "The first time we were both… overeager… and it wasn't until afterward that we remembered we should have been more…careful."

  Her voice broke, and for a moment she couldn't go on. She and Jerry had been so naive, and in their innocence they'd botched the whole thing. Unfortunately the damage had been done.

  "Elyse, don't." Clint set his glass down and leaned forward. "I'm beginning to get the picture. It's not necessary to continue."

  She swallowed and looked at him. "Yes, it is, Clint. I don't want any more misunderstandings between us. I've got to say it all."

  He nodded and sat back again while she swallowed more of the brandy. "After that we always used protection, and in the excitement of planning the wedding I forgot about that first oversight. When I finally realized that my… cycle… had been interrupted I thought it was just the tension from all that was happening. It wasn't until two weeks after Jerry died that I found out I was ten weeks pregnant."