She clutched the edge of the seat.
“Got it?”
“Yes,” she said softly.
“Good. Then we understand each other. Next. When we’ve dealt with Tsung, you’ll finish out your summer job with the firm. I want you to have a good time. I intend to make sure you have a good time, with people your own age. Since Laura’s been in on all this, I’ll put her to work helping me find some suitable companions for you.”
“Suitable companions?”
“That’s right. Young people.”
“Not has-beens like you?”
His face came up, the beautiful mouth set in a humorless cast. “Rudeness doesn’t suit you, Donna. But, yes, you’ve got the picture.”
The room, the very air around her, took on a sharp clarity. All her senses came alive. She’d let him finish, then decide what to do next.
Bruce got up and went to the window. He pulled aside a lace panel and ducked his head to peer at the trees outside.
Donna waited. His back was even broader than she’d realized, and his biceps filled out the crisp white fabric of his sleeves. She tossed her head, opening her mouth to take a deep breath. Nothing had changed. Nothing. She wanted him more and more.
“At the end of the summer,” Bruce said without facing her, “regardless of what happens with Raymond Tsung, you’ll go back to Vancouver and enter college as your parents expect you to do.”
Vague anger became barely suppressed rage. He was pulling the old overbearing father-figure routine, and she wasn’t about to put up with that—least of all from Bruce, who’d taken his own sweet time to settle down.
He braced himself against the sash. “And as far as you and I are concerned, none of this conversation ever happened. With any luck, you can meet Tsung and not rile your folks. You’ll get over the rest of this…this schoolgirl infatuation. And now we’d better leave or we’ll be late for our dinner reservations.”
Donna moved silently on stockinged feet. Bruce turned from the window and jumped when he found her within inches of him. His strained smile faded instantly.
“How did you used to feel when people tried to tell you what to do with your life, Bruce?”
He glanced behind him, then back at Donna. The only escape would be an obvious sliding past her—unless he climbed out the window. That didn’t seem all that hilarious right now, Bruce thought, or such a bad idea. And if only she weren’t so damned lovely.
“How did you feel when Mark and Laura, and Irma, went on at you about how you should grow up?”
He could smell her perfume. It was something with sandalwood in it, something exotic. It suited her. He pursed his lips. The perfume was far too sophisticated for someone her age.
“You ran a club or something, didn’t you? And you were how old, twenty-two? It was called the Blue Concrete and some cult brought in vegetarian casseroles, and your partners were a couple of hoods.”
Bruce felt the blood rush to his face. Someone had been having a field day with his personal history. “That was a long time ago, Donna. And it was pretty damned stupid. I caused a lot of trouble for a lot of people—Mark and Laura particularly. But it’s over, and I’m not proud of any of it.” He looked at the ceiling and grinned wryly. “I was lucky not to land in jail—or end up dead.”
“So I heard.”
He regained his composure. “I’m sure you did hear. If nothing else, I gave his family enough to talk about for the next century. But, to get back to your original question, when someone told me it was time I got my act together and went back to school—Mark did that for me—I had enough smarts to agree. If I hadn’t, I’d probably be a middle-aged failure by now like your mo—” Oh, no. “I mean, I’m grateful someone gave me advice I needed.” He paused. Her beautiful eyes registered her hurt. He should never have started to put down her mother. “I didn’t mean to belittle Prairie, Donna. We’re both worked up. Okay?”
“It’s okay,” she agreed very softly. “The truth often hurts. And my mother is a middle-aged failure. Now, do I get a chance to talk?”
“Well, I guess.”
“Thank you.” Donna slid her small hand into his and walked with him to the middle of the room. She twined his fingers in hers. “I’m going to give all this to you point by point. One, I do love you. That’s never going to change. Two, regardless of how much I love you, you’re not going to tell me what I’m to do with the rest of my life. On the third point, and I’ve already admitted this, I was very, terribly wrong to send you after my father. I’m sorry, and I’ll do what I have to to get us both out of this.”
She reached across to hold his other arm, and pulled him in front of her. “Last of all, Bruce, the decision to go to college will be my own, and I will go eventually. After you and I are married.”
He knew his mouth had fallen open, but the muscles in his jaws wouldn’t work to close them. “Married?” he heard his voice crack.
“Married,” she confirmed, nodding. “When you and Anne got together, I decided I’d just imagined there was meant to be something permanent between you and me. Bruce, that was a miserable time for me. But then, when you divorced, I knew I’d been right in the first place. This is exactly what was meant to be.”
When you felt faint, did little black flecks dart in front of your eyes? She couldn’t mean what he thought she meant. “Before Anne,” he said slowly, struggling to understand. “You mean you’ve been planning this for years? How old were you when you decided we’d…when you started…”
“About fifteen,” she said calmly.
“Fifteen,” he echoed, and instantly remembered her then. Hadn’t that been the year when she’d finally talked Evan into letting her get her ears pierced? Evan. He refused to let himself think about Evan and Sara. They couldn’t possibly know any of this. And they wouldn’t, he’d see to that.
Donna rested her hands on his shoulders and looked intently into his face. “Remember when I was fifteen,” she said. “You came up to Vancouver and stayed with us. And you took me to the zoo in Stanley Park.” She was smiling, a little wryly, he thought. “As if I was still the little girl who needed outings to make her feel good.”
He felt a small flash of chagrin. “Fifteen is a kid. And I thought you enjoyed that day.”
“I did. I would have enjoyed anything you took me to do. All I wanted was to be with you, anywhere.”
“And while we were looking at polar bears and I was buying you popcorn, you were plotting this?” He tried for an amused tone and failed.
“Not really plotting.” Donna’s lowered lashes hid her eyes. “Not then. I just knew I had to do something about the way I felt when I was with you…and the way I always thought about you when you were here in San Francisco. But I didn’t know what it was going to be.”
And, Bruce thought, when she had come up with a plan, it had certainly been a mind-boggler. “That’s where you went wrong then, Donna. You followed some adolescent whim. But don’t feel bad, or embarrassed. We all have some ideas we think are terrific at the time, then later, we find out we were way off base.”
“I do know this all sounds bizarre, Bruce. But I’m not the first woman to fall hopelessly for a man and then make up her mind to do something about it,” Donna said. Bruce almost groaned aloud. She hadn’t been listening. “I don’t expect us to march up the aisle this week, or anything,” she continued. “We’ve got a couple of months to get to know each other properly.”
“A couple of months?” He couldn’t seem to form complete thoughts.
“Before the end of the summer. I figure we should be ready to let my parents know our plans by then.” She was smoothing her palms over his chest now, running her fingers along his jaw. And the sensation low in his gut was happening all by itself.
“I want you to stop this, Donna, now.” Her wrists, when he held them, were tiny. He closed his hands more tightly around them. “When you think about what you’ve said you’ll know how out of the question it is.” He continued to hold her unti
l she slipped her thumbs under his and placed his hands behind her neck. “It really is out of the question.” Her body, flattened to his, was slender and soft. He looked down into her eyes, at her mouth.
She stood on tiptoe. “Kiss me, Bruce.”
He shook his head.
“Mmm. I want you to.” She left his hands where they were and slid her own under his arms, up his shoulder blades, into the hair at the nape of his neck. The pressure brought his face down until he felt her breath on his lips.
“Donna,” he said weakly. She kissed his chin. “Donna.” He repeated her name against the corner of her mouth. His arms were crossed over her back. “You don’t want to do this.”
She turned her head, brushing her lips slowly across his. “But I do want to, Bruce. I just said so. I always mean what I say.”
Her body was supple, arched upward to press against him. The sensation of her breasts on his chest made it impossible to keep his attention focused. “Donna, please—”
“Shhh,” she whispered into his neck. “Don’t think, Bruce. Just kiss me.”
And he did. His mouth met hers. He drew back a fraction as his brain registered shock; then he sighed and covered her lips again.
He kept it gentle. He was managing to control the kiss; he was doing okay. The worst thing now would be to humiliate her. No, his conscience protested. “This isn’t right, Donna, honey. Believe me, we can’t do this.” The worst thing would be to allow one more second of this torture—for either of them.
“We can.” Her eyes were closed, her face still upturned and beckoning.
He clasped her elbows. “Let’s sit down and talk some more about this,” he said, knowing she wasn’t paying attention.
She edged him backward with her strong gymnast’s thighs, her smooth, golden thighs….
Bruce gritted his teeth, squeezed his eyes shut, and felt his calves collide with the couch. Damn it all, he silently cursed as they collapsed, Donna on top of him, onto the satiny seat. Where was his willpower when he needed it?
CHAPTER SIX
THE WILLPOWER IDEA was a fallacy. There was no such thing as willpower. Donna’s lovely face hovered inches above his, her lips parted. Her body on top of his had a seductive bonelessness which made Bruce move instinctively to accommodate her subtle curves. Watch it, Fenton! He couldn’t give in to this.
“Donna, honey…” Bruce moved his hands down and grasped her waist, ready to lift her off him. But he’d waited an instant too long. Her lips came down on his. Another instant, and his arms encircled her, holding her close. He let the kiss continue, not as long as he wanted to, but as long as he dared. Then, gently but firmly, he lifted her and rose to a sitting position, putting her down beside him. Her arms still clung to him, and her lips. She made a small sound in her throat, something between a sigh and a sob. He had the sudden feeling that if he made one false move he could damage something precious in her. She was so young, so vulnerable. Never had he felt so old, so jaded. There was such simplicity about it, her offering to him. And it was an offering, showing an absolute trust in him that left him shaken.
He reached back and pulled her arms from his neck, held both her wrists immobile, his thumbs moving from time to time to caress the backs of her small hands. He had the sick fear that the next word he uttered was of paramount importance to this child-woman whose face was upturned to his, whose eyes held a love older than time. Somehow he must deal with this, her defenselessness, her unconscious provocativeness—the fact that she couldn’t know what this was doing to him.
He had waited long enough. He didn’t have to speak first. Donna said, swallowing hard, “I guess I ruined it. I guess I made you angry.” Her eyes shimmered with the tears she was struggling to hold back.
“No,” he said softly. “Not angry. Not at this.”
She twisted her arms slightly and he let go of her wrists. She didn’t reach out to him again. Her hands lay limp on the shining turquoise satin of her dress. He felt a lump like a rock in his throat.
“I was wrong,” she said, her voice low. “I love you, but you don’t love me.” A shiver went through her and he longed to take her into his arms again, but he didn’t dare.
“Oh, but I do love you, Donna,” he said gently. “I’ve loved you for years, you know that.”
“Yes,” she said shakily. “Best buddies and all that. What happens when best buddies isn’t enough any more? Is that the end?”
“I’m not saying that, Donna. But what I am saying is that if you’re right—and that’s very iffy—maybe we are meant to be together. But not yet, not this way. And not without answering a hell of a lot of questions first. We’ve got to think some long thoughts—”
“I’ve already thought long thoughts. I’ve been thinking about us for years.”
“But I haven’t, Donna. For me, this comes like a thunderbolt out of the clear blue sky. Totally unexpected.”
Despite all her efforts, a tear brimmed over and fell down the curve of her cheek. She brushed it away hastily. “About a minute from now you’ll say, ‘Oh, this is so sudden,’ and run from the room.” Her attempt at humor fell flat, and she looked completely miserable.
“No, I won’t run. I learned a long time ago to face problems head-on. It’s better that way.”
“Yes, I’m a problem for you. I’ll concede that.” The depth of bitterness suddenly evident in her voice startled him. He wanted to touch her, to comfort her.
“Nothing the two of us can’t resolve together.” He smoothed the sleek black curtain of Donna’s hair as she bent her head forward.
“I’m not the big bargain you think I am, for one thing,” he said, “I’m older than you are. And it’s more than just years, honey. And I’ve already had one failed marriage. I’m not what you’d call a real good risk as a husband prospect.”
“But if I’m willing to take the risk—Bruce, these are things I’ve thought through a hundred times!”
“But I haven’t. Humor me. For me, this is all new territory. Look at it from my point of view for a minute, if you can. For one thing, there’s our longtime family connection. Of all the girls—women—I’d ever get involved with, the daughter of an old family friend would be the last. What kind of guy do you think I am? The family connection in itself presents one hell of a problem. Surely you can see that. What do I say to your parents? ‘Hi, Sara. Hi, Evan. By the way, I’m sleeping with your nineteen-year-old daughter.’ What do you think they’d say?”
“You make it sound cheap,” she said tightly.
“Leaving that aside for the moment, we have the problem of your future being unresolved.”
“You’re my future.”
“Assuming for a moment that…some day…I may be, what about now? What about the next few years? You’re going to forget the whole idea of going on to university? What about your own abilities? Your own talents?”
“Oh, Bruce, you sound like a lawyer.”
“I am a lawyer, and thank heaven I’ve had some training in logical thinking.” He got up and crossed the room, and immediately wished he hadn’t. She looked so small and forlorn, alone in the middle of that pale expanse of couch.
Donna leaned her head back and watched Bruce from beneath her lowered lids, loving every inch of him. She had handled this badly, very badly. Would she ever be able to set it right again? Well, not right, exactly. It hadn’t been right before. That was the problem. She’d grown up, and he hadn’t been aware of it.
But he was aware now. She felt a rising sense of something like triumph. He was fully aware of her as a woman now. She had stirred his senses, and deeply. He had responded to her as a man, not as her friendly buddy. She had that much anyhow. Something deep in her, something purely womanly, reveled briefly in the knowledge.
All right, she told herself. He knows. At least he knows now. She had to start somewhere, and that much, at least, had been accomplished. But she must draw back a little. She’d tried to go too fast, and consequently had made some mistakes. S
he had sense enough to recognize all the problems—she’d certainly thought about them long enough. But this was all new to Bruce. So Donna decided that she had to withdraw a bit. Retreat. Let him sort it out at his own speed. A line from a half-remembered poem passed through her mind: “And what is mine shall come to me.” She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the kiss and cherishing the memory.
“That leaves the immediate problem, doesn’t it?” she asked softly.
“What immediate problem?”
“The reservation for eight o’clock for dinner. Do you want to cancel it? It’s okay if you do. I won’t mind.”
“No, no. Of course not. We can’t…we can’t waste that gorgeous outfit.” He was definitely uncertain, obviously feeling his way with her. “Or don’t you want to go? Are you still with me?”
“Oh, yes, yes.” She got up from the couch in a single fluid motion. “I’m with you. I’m in the game to the very end.” And as she spoke Donna made several rock-hard resolutions. She wouldn’t mention the subject of love again for the rest of the evening. She would be vivacious and charming. She would put him at ease, make him feel good about himself, make him laugh. She knew him well enough to know that laughter had always been his shelter, his hiding place.
“There is one thing we ought to settle,” he said tentatively.
“Only one?”
“We’ve got to distance ourselves for a while, not see so much of each other. In view of this, I have to—we’d—better cool it, that’s all.”
“You’re probably right,” she said meekly. “I’ll go along with that.” And she spoke with a brilliant smile that cost her every shred of control that she had. “From here on, you call me. I won’t call you. Fair?”
“Fair. Come on, let’s go.”
DONNA WAS AS GOOD as her word. At the office, she no longer rushed to get Bruce’s coffee, or waylaid him in the hallway. She simply gave him a cheery wave as he walked by, the way she did with anyone who passed her desk. She didn’t call him or go to his house.
Perversely, Bruce missed her marked attention. Each time his phone rang he snatched it from its cradle, and was acutely disappointed that the voice at the other end was not hers. He hated coming into his empty house after work and not stumbling over her sitting on the floor surrounded by books. He began to miss—and this was ridiculous—her bright, eager, idiotic suggestions about his nutritional intake, or his nonexistent physical-fitness program.
Yes Is Forever Page 7
