Breath of Scandal

by Sandra Brown

  “She’s come to me twice.”

  Again he looked pained. “I told her not to. Hell, I’d rather die than involve that boy. If he is my son, I wouldn’t put him through an ordeal like that. Don’t let her talk you into it. Don’t let her bother the boy.”

  His vehemence surprised her. The tears that filled his eyes were incongruous with his masculine face. He swallowed convulsively several times. “If he is my son, I never want him to know about me… about what I did to you.” Tears rolled down his gaunt cheeks. “I wish to hell I could undo it, but I can’t. All I can say is, I’m sorry, Jade.”

  “It’s not that easy, Hutch.”

  “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t even want your pity. I just want you to know that our lives were never the same after that night.

  “My daddy knew he’d done wrong by you and never got over it. We didn’t talk about it—I just know. Lamar was sure as hell punished. That train got even with Ivan and Neal for you.”

  “Neal?”

  “He’s sterile. Can’t have kids. Nobody is supposed to know. Even Donna Dee doesn’t know. Neal told me by accident one night when he was drunk.” He took a moment to garner breath and strength. “What I’m saying, Jade, is that we all suffered for it.”

  “You may have suffered, but Gary died.”

  He nodded remorsefully. “Yeah, I gotta die with that on my conscience, too.” He blinked more tears out of his eyes. “I never planned on hurting you like I did, Jade. For all of it, I’m damn sorry.”

  They exchanged a long stare.

  It was broken when Donna Dee burst into the ICU, looking flushed and breathless. She stumbled to a halt when she saw Jade at her husband’s bedside. “If you came to gloat, you’re out of luck,” she said defiantly. “Hutch has got a donor.”

  She rushed to the opposite side of Hutch’s bed and raised his pale hand to her chest, cradling it. “A twenty-year-old male had an accident on his motorcycle just before dawn this morning.” She smiled down at him through glad tears. “The tissues are a pretty good match, so your doctor has given the go-ahead. They’ll be in shortly to start prepping you for surgery. Oh, Hutch,” she whispered, bending down to plant a kiss on his forehead.

  He seemed too overcome by the news to speak.

  Donna Dee straightened up and glared at Jade. “We won’t be needing your son after all.” Her beady eyes glowed maliciously. “And I’m so very glad. I’ll never have to thank you for saving my husband’s life.”

  * * *

  Dillon had stayed up half the night trying to make sense of the few facts he knew. When he finally went to sleep, his dreams were more disturbing than consciousness—and decidedly more erotic. At daybreak, he decided he could postpone his Saturday errands and chores and drive to Savannah instead.

  He was after more than just a change of scenery. He was on a quest for information. If he couldn’t get it from Jade, perhaps he would tap Donna Dee Jolly for it.

  Technically, Jade’s personal life was none of his business. If he continued probing into it, she was apt to fire him. But he had reached the point where he was willing to take that chance. Whether he liked it or not, he was already involved with Jade, even if it was only a one-sided relationship.

  He had arrived at the hospital by the time Jade emerged from the ICU. Upon seeing him in the corridor, she showed her displeasure. “What are you doing here?”

  Her face looked pale beneath the overhead fluorescent glare. There were violet crescents beneath her eyes, but they only enhanced their size and vibrant color. She had on a short, straight, stone-washed denim skirt, a white linen shirt, a red leather belt, and red sandals. She looked outstanding.

  “I could ask you the same question,” he said. “After what I overheard last night, I figured this was the last place you’d be today.”

  “I have a reason to be here. You have none.”

  “Consider me a curious bystander.” Noticing the flurry of activity going on around the ICU, Dillon looked beyond Jade’s shoulder. The corridor was suddenly full of medical personnel, all rushing around. “What’s going on?”

  “Hutch has a donor.”

  His gut knotted. “Not—”

  “No, not Graham. An accident victim.”

  She glanced back at the ICU, then turned and headed toward the exit. Dillon fell into step beside her. “Is Hutch Jolly Graham’s father?”

  Without faltering, she maintained her brisk stride. “I don’t know.”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake.” Irritably, he stepped in front of her to block her path. “Is he or isn’t he?”

  “Why don’t you stay out of my personal life? Your morbid fascination with it really puts me off.”

  “What’s Mrs. Jolly to you?”

  Supremely annoyed, she held her breath for a moment before releasing it with a sigh of resignation. “Donna Dee and I were best friends.”

  “Until when, Jade? When did you stop being her friend? When Hutch fathered your baby? Were they already married at the time?”

  “Of course not! How dare…” She compressed her lips to keep herself from saying more.

  He could tell that the question had really pissed her off. It was time to fall back and punt. Taking her arm, he guided her toward the exit. In a mollifying tone he said, “If you’d be honest and up front with me, I wouldn’t have to pry.”

  “This is none of your business.”

  “I think it is.”

  “Why?”

  Again he stopped to face her. So much for punting. He backed her into the nearest wall and whispered fiercely, “Because I want to know why you freeze up every time I touch you. Damn you, Jade, you’ve made me want to touch you. But I can’t stand for you to look at me like you’re the human sacrifice and I’ve got fresh blood on my hands.”

  “I don’t want to hear this.”

  “You may not want to hear it, but that’s the way it is, and you damn well know it. You can tell by the way I’ve kissed you that I want to sleep with you.”

  “Don’t. Don’t say any more.”

  “Jade—”

  “Mark this down,” she said with emphasis. “There can never be anything intimate between us.”

  “Because you sign my paycheck?”

  Anger flickered briefly in the desolate blue eyes. “That, too. But mainly because of things you don’t know.”

  “What things, Jade? That’s what I’m trying to find out. Tell me what things.”

  She shook her head. For the time being, her stubbornness appeared impenetrable. Swearing beneath his breath, Dillon stepped aside and let her precede him to the exit.

  * * *

  It was midafternoon by the time Jade reached the outskirts of Palmetto. She noticed in her rearview mirror that Dillon was still following her. He hadn’t let more than one car get between them at any point during the trip from Savannah. He took the cutoff right behind her.

  The winding country road was banked on either side by dense forests. It eventually came to a dead end at an abandoned plantation house. The For Sale sign had been there so long it was nearly obscured by the tall grass growing around its stake. The elements had faded the lettering. The house itself was architecturally impressive, though it had fallen into disrepair. Paint was peeling off the Corinthian columns. Window shutters were loose or missing altogether. A portion of the roof had been ripped off by the last hurricane to move ashore.

  The surrounding live oak trees had escaped damage, however. From their branches, trailing moss hung motionless in the humid heat, unless it was relieved by a breath of coastal breeze. Birds twittered among the stately pines and drank at a lichen-covered stonework fountain. Crepe myrtles were so burdened with ruffled fuchsia blossoms that the branches bobbed like the heads of old maids stealing naps.

  Jade got out of her Cherokee. “Nice place,” Dillon remarked drolly as he alighted from his pickup.

  “Isn’t it wonderful? I’m thinking of buying it.”

  Undaunted by his lack of enthusi
asm, Jade moved toward the house and carefully picked her way up the steps to the veranda. It wrapped around three sides of the house. Her footsteps echoed hollowly as she walked along it, peering into window casements. Those that still had glass were grimy with salt spray. The beach was only half a mile away.

  “You can’t be serious,” Dillon said, moving up onto the veranda with her.

  “I am.”

  “Isn’t it a little large for the three of you?”

  “It’s not for us. I want to buy it for GSS.”

  He gave a harsh laugh. “First a piss-poor farm and now a derelict Tara. I hope George Stein didn’t give you carte blanche with the company checkbook.”

  Taking no offense, she left the veranda and ventured to the eastern side of the house, where once there had been a formal flower garden. The crushed seashell paths were now choked with weeds and, in the flower beds, wild grass grew where carefully cultivated plants once had.

  On the far side of the garden there was another live oak. A swing hung suspended from one of its branches. The ropes attaching it to the tree were bigger around than her wrists. The knots beneath the plank seat were larger than her knees. Gingerly, she sat down in the seat and gave the swing a desultory push with the toe of her sandal.

  Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes and let the dappled sunlight spill across her face. She breathed deeply of the sultry air, which was heavily scented with honeysuckle and gardenia.

  “You’ve been here before.”

  She opened her eyes. Dillon, standing with both hands in the rear pockets of his jeans, was watching her. His hazel eyes looked more green than usual, reflecting the verdant branches of the tree.

  “Several times. I wasn’t kidding when I said I want to buy it. I’d like for this to be a company playground, sort of a corporate bed-and-breakfast facility.”

  “I thought you were scouting out property for an annex.”

  “This would be in addition to that. Think how wonderful it would be to entertain clients and upper-echelon executives here. I picked up a floor plan from the realtor and sent it to Hank.” Dillon had met Hank in New York. They had conferred on the TexTile plant.

  “I told him I’d like for the house to be modernized without compromising on the Southern grace and charm. If we get the foreign markets we hope to, we could bring their reps here for formal dinners. Maybe transport them by horse-drawn buggies and serve them mint juleps on the veranda. They’d eat it up.”

  He moved behind her, placed his hands above hers on the ropes, and began pushing the swing, not too vigorously, but enough to let the wind sift through her hair.

  “Have you bounced this brainstorm off ol’ George yet?”

  “Not yet. I want Hank to do some watercolor sketches first.”

  “You and Hank seem to be pretty thick.”

  “We’ve been friends since college.”

  “Hmm.”

  She ignored the speculation in his voice. “I also asked Hank to design a beach house in the nature of a gazebo, where we could hold company parties, picnics, and receptions. We could lease it to other groups when it wasn’t in use. That would defer some of the maintenance costs.”

  “George’ll like that. And maybe while you’ve got those foreign executives sitting on the veranda sipping mint juleps, darkies could sing spirituals from the slave quarters.”

  She lowered her foot and plowed a yard-long furrow in the ground before the swing came to a stop. She had to angle her head far back in order to look him in the eye. The crown of her head came close to touching his belly.

  “You’re patronizing me.”

  He didn’t move, although conversation would have been much easier if he had let go of the ropes and stepped around the swing to face her. “That’s right.”

  “Thank you for admitting it, at least.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I guess I got carried away. Do you think I’m crazy?”

  “I think you’re… intriguing,” he admitted after pausing to search for the right word. “In fact, Jade, you confound the hell out of me.”

  His voice sounded too intense for comfort. She tried to make light of what he had said and divert the topic to him. “You’re a fairly puzzling character yourself.”

  His mustache spread wider over his smile. “Me?”

  “Uh-huh. For a bachelor living alone, you don’t go out much.”

  “No mystery there. My demanding boss doesn’t leave much time for the pursuit of pleasure.”

  “You don’t see women.”

  He arched one of his eyebrows. “Are you keeping track?”

  “I just had you pegged as a man who would frequently need female companionship.”

  “You mean sex.”

  “Yes, sex,” she repeated uneasily.

  Suddenly, the still afternoon had become more torpid than before. Even the insects had ceased their droning buzz. The air was too muggy to inhale. Jade became aware of her clothing, and every place that it clung damply to her skin. Her hair felt heavy and hot against her neck. A butter-colored sun beat down on the earth, which released its heat in rising shimmers. It was like being in a perfumed sauna—only they weren’t naked.

  She became very conscious of how close behind her Dillon was standing, how near her shoulders were to his hips. Mere inches separated their hands on the ropes. His scent mingled with myriad others, but she could distinguish it.

  “What I was going to say,” she said breathlessly, “is that your lack of an active social life must have something to do with losing your wife and child.”

  His mustache resettled into place. He lowered his hands and moved away from the swing, keeping his broad back to her. “How’d you know about that?”

  “I knew days after I met you in L.A.”

  “Leave it to you to check out everything,” he said tightly, spinning around to confront her.

  “TexTile was vitally important to me. I couldn’t afford to make any bad choices. I checked you out as thoroughly as I could.”

  Angrily he stared down at her for several moments, then his shoulders gradually relaxed. “I guess it doesn’t matter one way or another that you know.”

  “What happened?” she asked gently.

  “Why ask? You already know.”

  “Only the basic facts.”

  He plucked a twig from the tree and twirled it between his fingers. “We were living in Tallahassee. I was working for this slimy son of a bitch who assigned me a job out of town. I commuted home only on weekends. Debra hated the arrangement. I hated it even worse. At the time, we had no choice.

  “She was getting depressed, so we planned a special weekend. I got home on a cold, wet Friday night. She had planned a big evening for us.” His voice became monotonal as he walked Jade through the house and told her what he had discovered on the bed in the master bedroom.

  “They looked so perfect,” he rasped. “There was no mess, no blood, no…” He made a gesture of misapprehension. “I thought they were asleep.”

  “What did you do?”

  His eyes turned cold. “For one thing, I beat the shit out of the man who had kept me away from my family.”

  “Good.”

  “Then I stayed drunk for several months, shut myself off from everything, even the ‘companionship’ you mentioned before. Once I resumed, I nailed any woman who said yes. Fat, skinny, ugly, pretty, old, young. It didn’t matter, you know?” Jade shook her head. “Well, maybe you have to be a man to understand that.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Anyway, I moved around a lot, stayed a loner until you offered me this job.” He speared her with his eyes. “This is the first time in seven years I’ve got something to live for. I owe you thanks for that, Jade.”

  “You don’t owe me anything except hard work for the money I pay you. So far I haven’t been disappointed.”

  He dropped the twig to the ground and dusted off his hands. “I should have been at home with them.”

  “Why? So
you could die in your sleep, too? Would that have made things better?”

  “I should have checked the furnace.”

  “And she shouldn’t have turned it on before it was checked.”

  “Don’t be argumentative.”

  “Then don’t talk crazy, Dillon. It was a tragic accident; no one’s to blame. You can’t go through your life trying to atone for something that wasn’t your fault.” She gazed at him for a moment. “Hearing you talk about it explains a lot. I knew the TexTile job was important to you. I didn’t realize until now how much.”

  “I look on it as a second chance. I don’t want to blow it.” He slid down the trunk of the tree until he was sitting on his heels. “So now you know what motivates me. What about you?”

  “A fantastic salary. Position and respect in a man’s world.”

  “Hmm. With all that going for you, why’d you come back to Palmetto?”

  “Because GSS needed the community and the community needed this plant. As observant as you are, it can’t have escaped your notice how depressed the economy is. Some of the people living around here still don’t have indoor plumbing. They subsist on whatever food they can grow.

  “TexTile is going to employ hundreds of people. Before we are even operational, I’m going to organize workshops and classes to teach necessary skills. Those who are hired will be paid a percentage of their salary even while they’re in training. The plant will have daycare facilities so that more than one parent can work. There will be—”

  “That’s bullshit, Jade.”

  Her mouth went slack with astonishment. “What?”

  “I said that’s bullshit. It all sounds terrific. On the surface, you’re drenched in altruism,” he said, coming to his feet. “But if I dug deep enough, I’d find the real reason you want to build your plant here, and it isn’t compassion for the poor and economically oppressed.”

  Straddling her legs with his, he gripped the ropes of the swing and stood in front of her, talking down into her upturned face.

  “It has something to do with your former best friend and the sheriff she’s married to, who might or might not be Graham’s father. Mixed up in there somewhere are the Patchetts. There’s no love lost between you and the bigwigs of this town.”