The coffee tasted good but he couldn’t concentrate on the daily news. Frowning slightly he leaned back in his chair and stared off into space. He felt adrift, uncentered, and he didn’t have to wonder why: It was all about anticipation and the knowledge that Andrea would be at the ball.
For years they had ignored each other, or tried to ignore each other. When something unforeseen and unpreventable brought them together—always briefly—they said hello, but Andrea’s polite voice and unsmiling countenance emitted enough ice to chill to the bone anyone within hearing range. He had to ask himself why he was forcing them to meet again when Andrea had only tried to avoid him. He didn’t doubt that she would be civil at the ball—he’d observed those cool, impeccable manners of hers more than once—but since when had an evening of distant, chilly civility from a woman held any appeal for him?
Deep down, Keith knew the answer to all of his questions about Andrea. He wanted things to be different between them. He wanted her to talk to him without that famous chill, to look at him and really see him, and to treat him as she once had. Would the ball change anything? Maybe not. Probably not, if he was completely honest about it. But it was an opportunity to spend some time with her.
Accepting that summation with a knot in his gut, Keith turned his thoughts to the problem of proving Dorian Brady’s guilt. It was frustrating as hell to be certain of something and not be able to come up with enough evidence to take to the police. Mulling it over for at least the tenth time since his last meeting with Sebastian, Rob, Jason and Will, something that had been niggling at Keith abruptly rose to the surface. Getting up from the table, he went to the telephone, took it from its cradle and walked around the room while he dialed a number.
“Sebastian? I’m glad I caught you. Listen, I’d like to pick up Eric’s computer. I should’ve thought of it before. I know the police checked the computer and so did Rob. He found Eric’s personal journal and that e-mail message and, believe me, I’m not minimizing Rob’s…or the police expert’s…computer abilities, but if there’s one thing I know through and through, it’s computers. There could be more information in disguised or hidden files that everyone thus far has missed. I think I should check it out.”
Keith’s extremely successful career had been built around computer software, and no one got very far with software unless they understood computer hardware—the nuts and bolts of the machine, so to speak. He could take a computer apart and put it back together in mere minutes. Hell, he could build one from scratch if he had the components on hand. In some cases he could actually create the components. Owens Techware was a well-known and highly respected contributor of technical software the world over.
“Yes, you’re the logical person to do that,” Sebastian agreed with a spark of excitement in his voice. “You may be on to something, Keith. Pick it up anytime. I had it put in storage.”
“Great. I’ll come by Wescott Oil sometime today.”
After hanging up the phone, Keith let Andrea enter his mind again, but only for a few moments. Heaving a sigh because he had never understood himself where Andrea was concerned, he went to take the shower he should have taken earlier.
The elegant old clubhouse and its immaculate grounds seemed magical on ball night. Hundreds of tiny white lights bedecked shrubbery and trees, and every window in the building glowed with warm, golden light.
The limousine in which Andrea was riding crept toward the club’s entrance. It was following a long line of luxury cars and limousines that stopped only long enough to dispatch beautifully dressed guests, so it was stop and go, stop and go, for about ten minutes.
Seated in the limousine’s back seat Andrea drew a long breath rife with disapproval and dissatisfaction. She had accepted being manipulated into attending this year’s ball, but she was adamant about it not happening again under any circumstances. If club members chose to bestow some of their wealth on New Hope again, she was going to weasel out of this duty by hook or by crook. She absolutely hated the club’s insistence on picking her up in a showy limousine. She was not a limousine person, and she felt completely out of place in it.
This, too, she blamed on Keith Owens. No one would ever convince her that he hadn’t dreamed up this whole scenario just to embarrass her, and, however much she would like to cut him cold tonight, she was going to have to smile and chat and act as though she didn’t resent the air he breathed.
She had not willingly given Keith the time of day since college, though they ran into each other every so often. Accidental meetings—inevitable in towns the size of Royal, Texas—never failed to unnerve her. Just the sight of Keith raised her blood pressure and made the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand up, a condition she attributed to a mix of extreme tension and dislike. He had, after all, nearly destroyed her that night so long ago. That night when she’d naively expected a marriage proposal, and instead Keith had proposed a business partnership. A business partnership! He’d been full of himself then, and from the little she’d seen of him over the years, he was still full of himself.
On that particular night she’d been totally crushed and had angrily let him have it, making it clear that she was going to major in education and wanted nothing to do with his business plans. To make matters worse, Keith had derided her choice of careers—teaching—and boasted about his ambitions. Although Keith had made a fortune in computer software, Andrea had felt in her heart that her career rewards as a teacher far exceeded Keith’s. But he would never, ever understand putting joy in one’s personal accomplishments ahead of an ever-increasing bank account.
Andrea shook her head just as the limousine braked precisely at the club’s main entrance. She disliked these particular trips down memory lane. Usually she had no trouble avoiding these memories in favor of those that gave her pleasure instead of riling emotions that she would rather not poke and prod to life.
The limo door was opened by a uniformed greeter. Andrea took his outstretched hand and allowed him to assist her from the vehicle. People were everywhere, she saw—going into the club or standing outside to chat. Laughter and conversation mingled with the muted music inside the club and floated out on the evening air. The dress code for the ball was formal, which had once dictated that men wore black. Not these days. There were tuxedoes in many different colors, and the males in attendance were almost as flamboyantly clad as their female companions. The ladies, however, were also gleaming from the exquisite jewelry around their necks, in their hair, on their wrists and fingers, and anywhere else they could attach diamonds, emeralds, pearls and rubies to their person.
The limousine moved away and another vehicle immediately took its place. Andrea began walking toward the entrance and gasped in surprise when someone took her arm.
“Good evening,” Keith said, his lips brazenly close to her ear. “I wasn’t sure whether you would arrive alone or with an escort, so I’ve been out here watching for you. Since you’re alone, I’m appointing myself your guide, counselor, escort and buddy for this evening’s festivities.”
Despite her annoyance, Andrea couldn’t help but register his good looks, which shook her aplomb and irritated her no end. His tuxedo was a wonderful shade of tan that was almost exactly the color of his light-caramel-hued hair. The quirky smile that had captured her heart back in college was still his best feature, although his thickly lashed dark-brown eyes ran a very close second. Admiring and eventually drooling over Keith Owens’s good looks had caused her pain and heartache in her college years. Maturity had provided her with some advantages, thank goodness, one of which was an understanding of just how unimportant good looks really were. She’d figured that out only a few years after college, because the man she’d married had been wonderfully pleasant-looking but not drop-dead handsome, as Keith was. Frankly, everything about Keith galled her, especially his overbearing assumption that he could appoint himself her escort for the evening.
“I think not,” she said coolly, trying to pull her arm out of his.
> “Think again. It’s only good protocol for our guest of honor to have an escort,” Keith said smoothly while giving her a head-to-foot inspection. She was utterly beautiful. In college she’d been pretty, with long black hair and dark-blue eyes. Hell, she’d been cute as a button when she’d been a kid, a fact he remembered very well because they’d grown up next door to each other. But cute and pretty simply weren’t the right words to describe how she looked now. Her figure was incredible, especially provocative in that two-piece ivory gown she was wearing. It fit like a dream, from its high neckline all the way down its classic lines to a hem incorporating one sexy slit that permitted brief glimpses of the lower portion of her left leg. It was a marvelous dress, Keith decided, its delightful color accenting Andrea’s hair and eyes. Her black hair was much shorter now, but its simple style was extremely becoming to her beautiful face.
“If I had wanted or believed I needed an escort, I would have invited a friend to accompany me this evening. Your protocol is about fifty years outdated. You may find this a major shock to your good-old-country-boy beliefs, but nowadays women actually walk and talk all on their own. Please let go of my arm.”
“I’ll let go of yours if you’ll take mine.”
“How about if I kick you in the knee, put you out of commission and get rid of you that way?”
“Resorting to violence already, are we?”
Andrea shook off his hand with one big jerk of her arm. “That’s enough childish horseplay!” She started walking toward the entrance, fully aware of Keith keeping up with her every step. He wasn’t going away, however rude she might be. She heaved a sigh. The evening was going to be as unbearable as she’d anticipated.
Inside the club there was a receiving line, and while Keith bantered and laughed with his friends greeting the arriving guests, Andrea smiled congenially, and furtively checked out the décor. It was as dreadfully macho as she’d been told. Was that a boar’s head over the mantel? She shook hands and made appropriate comments to people she recognized but just barely knew. Her friends were not members of this club, which admittedly did a lot of good for the community but was also known for some very rowdy escapades. Now that Andrea was inside she could tell that the band was playing some very lively songs, mostly with a country-and-western slant. Well, what did you expect? Schubert? Beethoven? Chopin?
“My dear, we’re all so proud of this year’s choice of charities,” an older woman, Janice Morrison, wife to a lifetime member of the club, said while gripping Andrea’s hand in a long handshake. Mrs. Morrison’s diamond necklace alone would have financed the operation of New Hope for five years, Andrea thought, although she certainly did not begrudge the congenial woman her astounding necklace. Andrea was wearing very little jewelry herself—a pearl-and-diamond ring and matching earrings—but she had some very good pieces in her safe. They were gifts from Jerry, her deceased husband, which was the only reason she kept them, because she hadn’t worn the items since his death.
“We at New Hope are both proud and delighted,” Andrea murmured. “Be assured that all donations will be put to very good use.”
“I’m sure they will. My, you two make a fine-looking couple,” Mrs. Morrison gushed.
The woman was gazing from her to Keith, and Andrea’s smile faded a little as she withdrew her hand. Keith saved the day by quipping, “We’re just a couple of old friends, Janice.”
Janice Morrison wasn’t convinced. “Who do you think you’re kidding, Keith Owens?”
Andrea wilted internally. Here was a lady with a long memory, and there were probably dozens of others attending the ball that also remembered when the Vances and the Owenses—her parents and Keith’s—had lived next door to each other. This time, when Keith took Andrea’s arm to steer her away from the receiving line, she felt too weak to protest. How in heaven’s name was she going to make it through an entire evening of innuendo and reminders and still keep on smiling?
“Sorry about that,” Keith said to her.
Andrea forgot about smiling and her eyes flashed angrily. “Why would you expect anything else when you’re sticking to me like glue?”
“Would you really rather be left on your own in this crowd?”
“I’d rather not give anyone the wrong impression!” Andrea glanced around. “Do you have any idea of how many people are looking at us right now?”
Keith glanced around himself, then grinned wickedly. “Quite a few, by the looks of it. Wonder what they’re whispering about. Maybe they’re wondering if we’re sleeping together.”
Andrea gaped at him. “Are you mad? We didn’t even sleep together when we dated!”
“That sure wasn’t my fault.”
“Of course it wasn’t. Since you had—and probably still do have—the morals of an alley cat.”
“Don’t tell me the subject of sex still embarrasses you. Andrea, you’re a big girl now. Actually, when I think about it, you were a big girl in college, but you had far too many hang-ups for a…” Keith wisely closed his mouth. He’d been about to say something about randy young college men, but decided to avoid that topic for the present. “How about a glass of champagne?” he asked instead.
“If I say no are you going to go off and find someone else to badger?”
“Nope.”
“Then yes, I’d like a glass of champagne.”
“Great.” Placing his hand on the small of her back, and enjoying a delicious tingle in his lower regions from the physical contact, Keith steered her through the crowd to one of the bars and ordered two glasses of champagne. After handing one to Andrea he smiled and said, “Cheers, sweetheart, and let me add that you’ve got what it takes.”
Andrea felt heat rising in her cheeks and knew that she’d turned pink. “What on earth are you talking about? Why didn’t you stop at ‘cheers’ and make this a tolerable occasion?”
“You know, I should have. Sometimes I say things without thinking. I mean, that was obviously a compliment, but if I had thought about it before speaking, I would probably have postponed it until you’d had a couple of glasses of champagne.”
Andrea glared at him. “Meaning I would appreciate crude remarks then? You didn’t know me in college and you don’t know me now. I never liked your crudity, which you would remember for yourself if your self-serving, smug, conceited head wasn’t bigger than Rhode Island!”
Keith roared with laughter. “Andy, I absolutely adore you.”
“Oh, give me a break,” she drawled, although her heart was suddenly pounding unmercifully fast. He didn’t mean what he’d said, for heaven’s sake. He was just the kind of man who said outrageous things to women and then laughed at their reactions. He obviously believed he was God’s gift to womankind, and maybe he was—for some women—but he was no gift in her estimation. He was a cad without a conscience, and he didn’t even have the grace to pretend otherwise.
He peered, owl-like, at her over the rim of his glass as he took another swallow. “How about a game of tit for tat?”
“Which is?” she asked, frowning and suspicious.
“I’ll give you a break if you get rid of that stick up your spine. You used to be a fun person to be with. You used to laugh a lot. You’re arguably the most beautiful woman here and if people are staring and speculating, that’s why. After all, I’ve been single and alone for four years. I’d have to be crazy to be talking with the loveliest lady here and not let you—and everyone else—know that I’m interested.”
Andrea gasped. “Do you actually have the temerity to think I care if you’re interested?” Fury set in then, and she felt herself start to tremble. She had to get away from him before she let the whole crowd know that she could happily murder Keith Owens where he stood. “Which way is the ladies’ room?” she asked. It was at that moment that she realized she didn’t have her handbag. “Oh, no, I left it in the limousine!”
“Left what in the limo?”
“My handbag.” She glared into Keith’s eyes. If she hadn’t been so unn
erved by the evening ahead at the time of arrival, she never would have left anything in that accursed limousine. This, too, was Keith’s fault. “Where do they park the limousines? I need to get my bag.”
“I’ll show you.”
Just then a man’s voice intruded on them. “Well, this must be the guest of honor, Andrea O’Rourke.”
Both Andrea and Keith turned a bit to see the man. Keith’s expression was no longer flirtatious and friendly, Andrea saw with some surprise. In fact, he was actually glowering at a very attractive man in an elegantly tailored black tuxedo.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me, Keith?” the man asked in a dangerously slick voice. Andrea could tell that Keith didn’t want this stranger even saying hello to her.
The man gave a dry little laugh. “Apparently the cat has taken hold of Keith’s tongue. Permit me to introduce myself, Andrea. I’m Dorian Brady.” He reached out and took Andrea’s hand. “This is an honor and a great pleasure,” Dorian said.
Andrea was not pleased. Dorian might be physically attractive, but something about him made her uneasy. She pulled her hand from his and said, “Thank you.” Keith was still scowling at Dorian, which was puzzling, since Keith seemed to be on friendly terms with all the other club members. “The directions to the parking lot, please?” Andrea asked him stiffly.
“Well, I can see that the two of you are quite involved. You will excuse me, won’t you? Good evening, Andrea. Perhaps we will meet again.” Dorian bowed slightly and departed.
“That creep,” Keith mumbled. “Andrea, give that guy a very wide berth.”
“I plan to, but not because of your orders,” she replied sharply. “Now how do I find the limousine parking area?”
Keith pulled himself together. Dorian’s unexpected intrusion had unnerved him. Actually, Keith had expected that Dorian would avoid the ball, especially since Merry and Jason were there. Maybe it was time the club members voted to revoke Dorian’s membership. Keith couldn’t remember a member ever being banned before, but there must be something in the bylaws about membership reversal.
The Bachelor Takes a Wife Page 2
