by Diana Palmer
“You can always tell him to go home.”
She looked up at his amused expression. “Yes. I guess I could.”
“There’s a nice symphony concert tomorrow night. They’re playing Debussy. I understand that he likes Debussy very much, and that he has two tickets up front.”
“Oh, he does, does he?”
“He only lacks the right partner for the event. And I believe you bought a new gown to wear to the opening of the arts center next month . . . ?”
She laughed, the first humor she’d felt in a long time. “Yes, I did.”
“So he said that, if you were willing, he could pick you up at my apartment about six tomorrow evening? He mentioned supper at the Plaza. He has reservations for that, too. And he also mentioned that he was going to look really stupid with empty seats beside him at both those events. He’d be such an object of pity that he might never recover.”
Her eyes grew bright with humor. “Well, I suppose I could listen to what he has to say.”
“Exactly what I told him.”
“Turncoat,” she said, but she smiled affectionately when she said it.
“You’ve been miserable since we got back. So has he. Take a chance.”
“I guess I’ll have to. But if things don’t work out . . .”
“You can have me paged at the airport.”
“How would that pay you back?”
“You could tell people that I was a famous movie star traveling incognito, and have me mobbed for autographs,” he chuckled.
“In that case, I’ll do it.”
“That’s my girl!”
* * *
She tried several times to talk herself out of the date. But she couldn’t help herself. She wanted to see JL so much that it was like a fire burning in the pit of her stomach. He was all she thought about, all she dreamed about, all she wanted in life. She pictured herself living on the ranch, traveling with him, rocking their children to sleep at night by a fire in the fireplace. She was miserable alone. Perhaps he was, too. There was only one way she was going to find out, and that was, as her father had said, by taking a chance.
She dressed in her new gown, a pretty beige couture one that fell in folds to the ankle straps of her leather pumps. Her red-gold hair was up again in a complicated coiffure, with her jeweled clips. She wore just enough makeup, without overdoing it. She wore pearls around her neck and in her ears. A gold designer watch was fastened around her wrist. She looked expensive and cultured, which she was. For once, she wasn’t in disguise.
The phone rang. The clerk informed her that a gentleman awaited her in the lobby.
She picked up her purse, wished her father good night, and walked out the door.
* * *
JL was near the elevators, waiting. His first sight of her produced an expression of pride, of faint possession, of approval.
He smiled slowly. “The real Cassie,” he said softly as he approached her.
She smiled back, trying to contain her excitement. He was wearing designer clothing as well, evening clothes in which he looked debonair and very cultured. His thick black hair was uncovered. His face was tanned and handsome. His dark eyes ate her from head to toe. She had to fight to breathe normally.
“The real me,” she replied.
“If I start apologizing here,” he said softly as he escorted her toward the front door, “maybe by the time we get to the symphony, you’ll be in a forgiving mood.”
“It was my fault, too, you know,” she replied quietly. “I should have told you the truth. I was afraid to. It was so horrible here—”
“It’s all right,” he interrupted. “You don’t have to say a thing.”
He paused at a super-stretch black limo, whose driver was waiting with the back door open.
JL helped her inside, and followed her, the driver shutting them in before he went around to get in under the steering wheel.
“I hope you’re hungry,” he said, smiling. “I came straight here from Saudi Arabia.”
“I had a nice salad and light fish for lunch,” she replied. “It’s worn off.”
He chuckled. “I had peanuts.”
“You can get those on airplanes!” she exclaimed.
He glared at her.
She laughed. “Sorry.”
He laughed softly. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
His hand slid over hers and curled into it. “It’s going to be the best date we’ve ever had.”
She caught her breath. “Yes.”
His hand tightened. Hers tightened, too.
“Marge wasn’t any happier with Cary than I was, when she knew who you were,” he said. “She gave him the rough side of her tongue. So he turned around and called your bosses, to get even with her. He told them that she’d been rude and obnoxious to you.”
“Is that why she lost the account?” she asked, shocked.
He nodded. “She wasn’t even sorry about it. She felt guilty about what she let Cary talk her into. She called me and told me what happened. She said she felt even more guilty when she knew how your mother died. There have been too many lies, and mixed messages. Too many deceptions by both women and men. Trudy lied about your dad, Cary lied about Marge, and about you. But justice prevailed.” He squeezed her hand. “Trudy is in jail, and Marge will be fine. Cary won’t. He’s living in Denver now, and nobody back home will speak to him. Especially me.”
“He’s done a lot of damage,” she said quietly.
“More than you know. It’s about time he faced the music. I’m not letting him back on the ranch again, ever. He almost separated us for good out of jealousy.”
“Who was he jealous of?”
“You and Marge, because you both ended up with me and he felt jilted,” he replied. “He’s got some real ego issues. Maybe he can deal with them. Whether he can or not, it’s not my business anymore. I’ve had enough of his mischief.”
“I can see why.” She shook her head. “Maybe I’m lucky that I don’t have any extended family living nearby!”
He laughed. “Maybe you are, honey.”
She felt her heart expand at the endearment. She felt warm and protected. She looked up at him with her heart in her eyes and found him staring back at her hungrily. It was a moment out of time, when everything was perfect. Just perfect.
All too soon, they arrived at the exclusive restaurant. When they were seated, poring over the menu, he glanced at her.
He smiled. “I suppose French dishes on a menu aren’t intimidating to you.”
She laughed. “I speak it and read it. My grandmother was French.”
“My great-grandmother was French-Canadian,” he told her. “I speak it, too.” He lowered his voice. “I know some really sweet words in French.”
She flushed.
He laughed. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist it.”
She laughed, too. “I’m educated, but I’m not worldly.”
“And that delights me,” he said softly. “It may be a sophisticated world, but innocence has a cachet all its own. I love it that you can still blush.”
“I’ll bet you can’t,” she returned.
He chuckled, deep in his throat. “No, I can’t. And one day, you may be very happy about that.”
She didn’t dare reply. She concentrated on her menu instead.
* * *
The symphony was delightful. She held hands with JL and soaked up every sweet minute of “Afternoon of a Faun” and La mer, two of her Debussy favorites. Afterward, they walked slowly down the sidewalk toward the waiting limousine.
Stars twinkled in the sky above, visible despite all the lights of the city. The faint breeze blew tendrils of her hair around her face.
“It’s been a magical night,” she said.
“Right out of a fantasy,” he replied. “How did you end up writing for a hit television series? Were you really a reporter?”
She nodded. “I loved my job. But Dad mentioned me to a friend, who h
ad a friend, and I submitted some samples of my work. They hired me on the spot. I was terrified. I’d never written scripts, I had no idea what working for a series entailed, and I was scared to death.”
“But you adjusted.”
“Yes. I adjusted. It’s been exciting, maddening, nerve-racking, and horrifying, all at once. But I’ve loved every minute of it.”
“You know, I own a private jet,” he remarked, sliding his fingers so that they meshed with hers.
“Do you?” she asked, breathless all over again at the slow, caressing contact.
“So if you lived in Benton,” he continued, “it would be easy for you to commute.”
She could barely breathe. “Yes, it would.”
“We have bitter winters in Colorado, but I have a nice big fireplace and plenty of wood for fires.”
“Do you?”
“Not to mention, central heat and air-conditioning as well,” he chuckled.
“I see.”
He stopped and turned to her, towering over her, even though she was wearing fairly high heels. “I bought you a ring,” he said huskily. “I was going to give it to you that night, before Cary came in with Marge and ruined everything.”
“I knew.”
“How?” he asked, surprised.
“Everybody in town knew. The jeweler told people.”
He touched her soft cheek with his fingertips. “I bought one for Marge, but it was different. It was a fever, quickly quenched, even if I did think it was like dying at the time when she left me. But when you left, that was the desert after the oasis. I couldn’t eat or sleep. I couldn’t rest. I left town, because I couldn’t bear to see the places I’d seen you in. So much pain,” he added huskily. “And I brought it on myself, because I didn’t trust . . .”
She put her fingers over his firm mouth. “We were both at fault. You didn’t know me. I didn’t try to explain. But that’s in the past. That’s over.”
He turned her hand and kissed the palm hungrily. “I still have the ring.”
Her breath caught at the passion in his tone. “Do you?”
“And I got information on getting a marriage license this morning.”
She gasped.
“We could go down to the Office of the City Clerk together and get one.”
“We could?”
“I’ve got everything arranged already for next Friday,” he added. “Think of the embarrassment if I have to call it off. I mean, I invited total strangers to the event. I’m having Mary and Agatha and your dad’s former boss, Bill Clay, flown up here. I’ll never live down the shame if you say no.”
She just gaped at him. “But, JL, I don’t have a wedding gown . . . is it a civil service?”
“It is not. And we can get a wedding gown. I had a couture boutique put several on hold, just for you. I’ve been shopping.” He grinned.
“But . . . but . . .”
He bent and kissed her, very softly. “Just say yes. Everything else will work out. Honest. I have the best wedding planner in the city. She’s amazing.”
She just shook her head. “Oh . . . okay!” She gave up. It was probably going to be a disaster, but she loved him and she didn’t care. She threw her arms around his neck. “I love you,” she said huskily. “We can get married by a beachcomber, I don’t even care how.”
He lifted her and kissed her hungrily, oblivious to passersby and cars and cabs and the whole world.
“Get a room,” someone yelled humorously.
“I’m getting a room, after I marry her!” he yelled back.
There was raucous laughter.
Cassie laughed, too, and snuggled close in his arms.
* * *
The wedding planner was truly amazing. She had it all arranged, right down to the wedding gown, the bouquet, the church, the minister, the works. Two little girls who belonged to one of the series’ stars of Warlocks and Warriors were flower girls. The ring bearer was the son of another. Roger Reed was JL’s best man and the show’s female star was Cassie’s matron of honor. The wedding was covered by the media. And Mary and Agatha and Bill Clay, along with Bessie and her daughter, from Benton, Colorado, sat in the front pew and watched with utter delight and a little bit of shock. They’d had no idea who their new friend actually was. All of them were fans of Warlocks and Warriors.
JL lifted the delicate, lacy veil from her face and kissed Cassie with exquisite tenderness. His eyes were full of love. He hadn’t said the words, but he didn’t need to. She knew. She’d always known.
She smiled up at him with her whole heart in her own eyes.
“My beautiful wife,” he said gently. “Mrs. Denton.”
She flushed and laughed. “I like the way that sounds.”
“Me too.”
He shook hands with the minister, took Cassie by the hand, and they walked back down the aisle towards the exit.
The reception was held in the Bull and Bear restaurant at the Waldorf Astoria. There were more people than Cassie could account for. JL mentioned that he’d invited several members of his board of directors and at least one Arab prince. He pointed the man out to Cassie, who would never have guessed his identity because he was wearing an expensive suit, not robes.
“You have some amazing friends,” she remarked later.
“Yes, I do. I don’t pick them because of their bank accounts, either. They’re just plain people. They don’t put on airs or equate wealth with character.”
“The prince is nice,” she remarked.
He chuckled. “He’s a big fan of Warlocks and Warriors,” he informed her. “Never misses an episode. In fact, neither do I. I’ll have to show you one of my T-shirts when we get back home. It’s black with ‘Here Be Dragons’ in white across the chest.”
She grinned. That phrase was the watchword of the show. Most people recognized it instantly. “I didn’t come up with that,” she said. “It was Frank’s.” She sighed. “We all still miss him. He was a great writer, and a sweet man.”
He bent and brushed her cheek with his lips. “For years to come, people will murmur that phrase and think of him,” he said comfortingly. “He’ll have a taste of immortality.”
“I didn’t think of that. It’s nice.”
“So am I,” he drawled with a grin.
“And now I have a son to go with my daughter,” Roger Reed chuckled as he hugged JL and Cassie. “Welcome to the family.”
“Thanks,” JL said. “I’m happy to be part of it. And very lucky that she has a tender and forgiving heart,” he added dryly.
“I didn’t think to ask, where are you two going for your honeymoon?” Roger asked.
JL looked down at Cassie with mischievous eyes. “It’s a surprise. But we’ll send you a postcard eventually,” he promised her father.
“I’ll have to talk with my bosses. . . .” Cassie began worriedly.
“Already taken care of,” her father said easily. “I play poker with your producer. I told him I’d let him win a hand and he said you can have a week off.”
She hugged her father. “You’re the best father on earth.”
“Yes, I am,” he chuckled. “Now go have a happy honeymoon and don’t worry about things back here. By the way,” he added softly, “you were a beautiful bride. Your mother would have been so proud.” He had to stop and fight tears.
“She would have,” Cassie agreed, and hugged him in a moment of shared sadness.
Before things could deteriorate, the photographer JL had hired interrupted them for a shot of Cassie and JL with her father. They obliged and smiles replaced sad faces.
JL and Cassie posed for pictures and then said their farewells to the Benton natives who’d come so far to see them wed. JL was sending them home in business class on commercial airlines. He apologized but added that he and Cassie would be taking his jet on their honeymoon. Nobody had a problem with that, especially when he added that the guests would be spending the weekend in New York City with prepaid credit cards, prepaid hotel bil
ls—at the Plaza—and all the food and entertainment they could wish for, also prepaid. Cassie was delighted that he was so generous with their friends. But, then, that was the way JL was. Happiness was spilling out all over.
* * *
Cassie had thought they might spend the night in New York City, but JL had them driven to the airport after they said their good-byes.
“Not a thing to worry about,” he assured her. His eyes twinkled mysteriously. “I have a very special wedding surprise in store for you. We’re going to join an exclusive club.”
“We are? Which one?” she asked, wondering if it was a restricted area in the airport where members of certain groups got VIP treatment.
“Wait and see, sweetheart,” he said softly, and held her hand tightly.
“Oh, my gosh!” she exclaimed just as they reached the airport. “JL, I forgot my suitcase! It’s still at Dad’s apartment! I won’t have anything to wear!”
“Already taken care of,” he said easily. “Your dad packed it and I had it picked up. It’s already on the jet.”
“The jet?”
“My own jet,” he said. “Big, roomy, comfortable, with a pilot who’s the best in the business. We even have inflight meal service.” His eyes twinkled. “You’re going to love it.”
She did. She’d been on an executive jet just once, when she was needed urgently for a story conference and the CEO of the company that produced Warlocks and Warriors had sent his own jet to pick her up in Atlanta. But even that luxurious jet wasn’t a patch on JL’s.
“This is absolutely unreal,” she said as she looked around. There was TV, a bar, a comfortable sitting area with tables, and a male steward, who greeted them at the door.
“This is Dennis,” he introduced her to the pleasant man. “He’s been with me for eight years.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said, shaking hands and smiling.
“Nice to meet you also, Mrs. Denton. Will you be wanting to eat soon?”
JL looked at his watch. “In about two hours, I think. Until then, no phone calls, okay?” he added, and tossed his cell phone to Dennis.
He held out his hand. Cassie got the idea. She handed him her cell phone, which he also tossed to Dennis.
