by Janet Dailey
"I…" She swallowed at the lump choking her throat. "I do have a headache." A terrible, throbbing one that clawed at her temples. "Probably from the trip," she lied. "I used to get carsick as a child."
"Why don't you sit down, Barbara?" Todd suggested and attentively guided her to the sofa and its many plump pillows. As she sat down, his hand happened to rest on the tension-strained muscles of her neck. "You are tense…all strung out like a wire."
"Nerves, I guess." Under the scrutiny of Jock's tawny eyes, Barbara knew she would never relax, but for Todd's sake she tried to appear that way.
"She needs a rubdown, Todd. A good massage would work wonders for tense muscles." Jock's look was deliberately suggestive of other, more intimate times despite the bland tone he used.
"You've always been better at that sort of thing than I will ever be." Indirectly Todd gave his permission.
Barbara instantly protested when Jock took a step toward the couch where she sat. "No!" She tempered the explosive refusal with a more even explanation. "It really isn't necessary. An aspirin would work just as well."
"Todd, why don't you get her one from the medicine cabinet?" suggested Jock.
"I have some in my purse." Barbara blocked that attempt to get her alone again. She would have to face him alone sooner or later, but not yet. Not until she mastered some immunity to him. Just having his eyes on her reminded Barbara of sensations she would rather forget.
When Jock handed the straw purse to her, Barbara only had to see his hands to remember how expertly they aroused her and how intimately they knew her.
"Thank you." She offered him the polite phrase and lifted her gaze to his face.
The clean, decisive outline of his mouth arrested her attention. Its latent sensuality forced vivid recollections of the explorations of that mouth to discover all the special places that stimulated her excitement. Heat flamed her skin as Barbara hurriedly bent her head to look for the bottle of aspirin in her purse.
"Can't you find what you are looking for?" Jock mocked.
A hole to crawl into and hide was what she wanted, but it was an aspirin bottle she found. Prying off the safety cap, she took out two tablets in her palm. Todd was offering her a tall, iced glass.
"Mother fixed some orange concoction. Would you prefer water?" he asked.
"No, this is fine." She washed down the tablets with the fresh citrus drink. "Where is your mother?" In a nervous gesture, Barbara raked her fingernails through the dark curls near her ear, ostensibly fluffing her hair, and reached for her purse again.
"She wanted a few minutes to freshen up before she met you," Todd explained.
A lighted cigarette was extended to her, filtered end first, just as Barbara found her own pack of cigarettes in her purse. She didn't need to look to know whose hand owned those strong, sun-browned fingers, so capable and adept at lovemaking.
"It will help calm your nerves," Jock murmured.
"I have some of my own, thank you," Barbara attempted a refusal, not able to keep out that taut breathlessness in her voice.
"It's the same brand." The inflection added a silent and mocking "remember?" to cause that rush of heat in her cheeks to color her again.
"Thank you." She took the cigarette from his fingers. Her imagination helped to increase the warm taste of his mouth on the filtered tip. As her lips absorbed the flavor of his, her darkened blue eyes made a furtive glance at his teak-hard face, ricocheting away when she found his gaze centered on her mouth. The click of heels on the tiled floor heralded the arrival of Todd's mother and gave Barbara an excellent excuse to crush the cigarette in the ashtray.
"I'm sorry I took so long, but Todd caught me unaware." A tall, handsome woman entered the living room, her dark hair liberally streaked with gray. Her warm smile and all her attention were directed strictly at Barbara. Alert brown eyes swept her in silent appraisal. Apparently she was dissatisfied with the result. "When Todd mentioned he was bringing a friend, I thought.…It doesn't matter what I thought."
Barbara rose from the sofa automatically at the woman's approach, with Todd standing at her side. But it was Jock, leaning back in his chair, so relaxed, with lazy amusement gleaming in his eyes, who made the introduction.
"Mother, meet your future daughter-in-law, Barbara Haynes."
"How do you do, Mrs. Gaynor." Her greeting sounded stiff, so stiff when in fact the woman was so like Todd that Barbara wanted to cry with relief.
"Lillian, please," the woman corrected, putting them on a first-name basis immediately. "And I'll call you Barbara. Welcome to Sandoval."
"Thank you. It' s good of you to have me."
Brown eyes sparkled in the look they darted to Todd. "She's very beautiful."
"Don't sound so surprised, mother." He laughed and slid a hand around Barbara's waist.
"You'll have to forgive me, Barbara, if I am at a loss for words. This engagement has come as such a surprise. Todd hasn't even mentioned you so I didn't have any inkling that he was serious about anyone." Realizing that she was making everyone stand because of her, Lillian Gaynor insisted, "Please, sit down." She took a chair close to the sofa. "How long have you known each other? How did you meet?"
"We bumped into each other a month ago, literally," Todd answered, draping an arm along the sofa back behind Barbara. "She walked into my car at the airport as I was backing out of a parking space."
"Were you hurt?" was Lillian's instant concern.
"No."
"I took one look at her and insisted that I had to see her home safely," Todd said with a wink. "After considerable arguing and persuading I finally convinced her to go out with me. She didn't have a very high opinion of men at the time or—"
Barbara felt a pair of gold brown eyes narrow on her and quickly interrupted "Todd," she cautioned. She had escaped the affair with Jock with a few scattered remnants of her pride intact. She didn't want Todd unintentionally taking that away from her.
Todd hesitated, then smiled. "—or it wouldn't have taken me so long." He changed what he had been about to say.
"May I see your ring?" Lillian asked and Barbara showed her the diamond Todd had given her. "It's a beautiful stone. When is the wedding? Have you set a date?"
"Not yet. Give us time, mother," Todd chided affectionately. "We've been talking about a long engagement and a big wedding."
"I don't suppose there is any need to rush, not in this day and age." Nobody misinterpreted Jock's innuendo. While Barbara reddened under his knowing regard, Todd flashed him a silencing look.
It was Lillian who reprimanded him. "Instead of being so cynical, Jock, you should be following Todd's example."
"I would," he stated. "But I don't think Todd would share his bride with me."
A wild sensation quivered in the pit of Barbara's stomach, a direct reaction to his suggestion. His eyes reminded her of the polished brilliance of the tigereye gemstones, a rich brown shot with gold. Jock was too rawly masculine and she was trapped in the magnetic field of his virile dominance, powerless to deny the compelling excitement he generated within her while mentally resisting his attraction.
"Too right I wouldn't share her," Todd declared, taking Jock's remark as a joke.
"Too right?" A quizzical brow was lifted in the hard lean face. "What did you have—a convention of Australians at the hotel?"
"A charter group," Todd admitted with a chuckle. "They all checked out this morning."
Todd may have missed the electric undercurrents sizzling in the air between Jock and Barbara, but Lillian Gaynor didn't. She sent Barbara a troubled look, sensing how much her oldest son's presence unnerved her without knowing why.
"Jock, don't you think you should shower and change?" Lillian suggested.
Jock appeared unconcerned by his sweaty and dusty appearance. Oddly, it only heightened that rough, manly aura that emanated from him. But he dutifully rose and retrieved his Stetson from the chair.
"I'll see you later," he said in parting, and Barbara had the distinct impres
sion the supposed encompassing remark was meant for her.
Coming from the open stairwell, she heard the firm, hard clump of his work-scuffed boots on the steps, deliberate and unhurried. Barbara knew she was being granted only a temporary respite from his company, not nearly enough time to find a safe course out of this tangled situation.
"Did Todd offer you the cold drinks I fixed?" Lillian asked, then noticed the frosted glass on the side table near Barbara. "I see that he did."
"It's delicious." Barbara picked up the glass to sip the frosty cold mixture. "What's in it?"
"Fresh orange juice, egg and honey. It tastes much better than the ingredients sound," the woman laughed, but the conversation had been successfully diverted to a lighter vein of domesticity. After several minutes it naturally progressed to the suggestion by Lillian, "Let me show you which room you will have, Barbara. I imagine you will want to unpack and freshen up before dinner."
"Yes, I would. Thank you," she agreed quickly, grabbing at the offer to be alone even for a short time.
"I saw Arthur outside a few minutes ago, watering the flowers. He can help you with the luggage, Todd."
"All right."
While Todd exited the house through the heavy cypress doors, Barbara followed Lillian Gaynor up the open staircase to the second floor. Gleaming teakwood floors were a rich contrast to the continuation of white textured walls. The carved balustrade protectively encircled the open stairwell, marking the boundaries of the wide hall. All the bedrooms opened onto the hall. Barbara's first thought was which bedroom belonged to Jock, insisting to herself that it was only self-defense that made her wonder.
"I think you'll like this room," Lillian was saying as she walked to a carved, hardwood door to the right of the three-tiered staircase. "It is reserved for special guests since it boasts a private bath and a private balcony. You are definitely a special guest, Barbara."
"Unique" would have been a more fitting description, Barbara thought with irony. She doubted that Lillian Gaynor would be quite so welcoming if she knew she'd had an affair with one of her sons and was engaged to marry the other.
The room was a stunning combination of turquoise and white with the dark wood of the furniture for contrast. It was sparsely furnished since too much of the heavy Mediterranean furniture would weigh the room down and take away from its natural spaciousness. A velvet spread of deep turquoise blue covered the large, postered bed with its carved headboard. The same turquoise color was repeated in the Persian rug on the teakwood floor, and again in the upholstery of the love seat. A double set of doors opened into a huge closet and a second door led to a mosaic-tiled bath with ornate Moorish fixtures. Beyond glass-paned doors was the private balcony, complete with black wrought-iron furniture spilling over with brightly flowered blue cushions.
"It's lovely," Barbara admitted.
"I'm glad you like it." The sound of footsteps on the stairs turned Lillian toward the door. "Here is Todd with your luggage. I'll leave you to unpack."
As she left the room, Todd walked in, juggling Barbara's three suitcases. "Where do you want them?"
"Just set them by the bed."
When his hands were free, he came back to put them around her. "How do you like my mom?"
"She's so much like you how could I help but love her?" Barbara admitted, sliding her fingers along the lapel of his summer jacket, and watching them instead of looking into Todd's face.
Sensing an aloofness that was emotional if not precisely physical, Todd curved a hand under her chin and lifted it. A concerned frown was in his expression.
"What's the matter, Barbara? Is something wrong?"
"No. Nothing," she insisted, but she couldn't keep the coolness out of her answer. She simply couldn't be comfortable in Todd's embrace, not when he didn't know about Jock.
"Is it J.R.?" Todd could so easily read her thoughts. "You aren't still upset about that pass he made, are you? You shouldn't let him bother you."
"Why indeed should I bother you?" Jock's mocking voice came from the doorway, causing Barbara to pivot out of Todd's arms with a guilty start. His tawny eyes were laughing at her, because he knew exactly why he bothered her. He was leaning indolently against the frame, his arms crossed in front of him. The faded denims and dirty shirt were gone, replaced by a silk shirt of pale yellow, open at the throat, and desert-brown pants. His appearance sensuously crisp and vital.
"So this is the room mother gave you." His gaze swept the room somewhat curiously, as if it had been a long time since he'd been inside it. "A nice big double bed." His gaze lingered on it before sliding to Barbara. "More than big enough for two."
"Come on, J.R. Barbara isn't that kind of girl," Todd defended her, but without anger or indignation.
"Isn't she?" Jock spoke as though he was surprised.
"No, she isn't." A troubled light entered Todd's brown eyes, indicating confusion at his brother's continued taunting.
"Stop it, Todd." The words rushed out in the low breath she exhaled. "I'm not a saint."
"You aren't a sinner, either." Now he was frowning at her.
"Must make you a martyr, Barbara," Jock declared with a twisted smile. Unfolding his arms, he straightened from the door frame. "Dinner is at seven. Sundowners on the veranda anytime before that. Come down whenever you're ready."
It was the first time Barbara had heard that crisp authority in his voice. It came very naturally. She realized Jock could command as well as seduce. She had known him only as a lover, and knew very little about him as a man.
"That doesn't give us much time, does it?" Todd murmured in a half sigh.
"No." Although she didn't have any idea what time it was.
"I'll stop by to see if you are ready before I go down," he promised and kissed her lightly on the cheek before he left the room.
It was an hour later before Todd knocked on her door. In that time Barbara had unpacked, showered and put on a blue-flowered dress. The soft material fell in natural folds that draped the scooped neckline and slimly fit the bodice and waist to flare in a skirt that swirled around her legs. Todd complimented her appearance, but Barbara couldn't take any pleasure in his approval. Together they made their way down the stairs and out onto the covered veranda at the pool side.
"Are you all settled in?" Lillian rose from a white wrought-iron chair to greet them, but Jock barely glanced their way from his position by the drink cart.
"Yes, thank you," Barbara nodded.
"If you are acting as bartender, J.R., I'll have a Scotch," Todd ordered.
"It's being splashed on ice right now." Jock tipped the bottle of liquor to pour it over the ice cubes in a squat glass. "What about you, Barbara? Something innocuous or would you rather get stoned with me?"
"Jock." Lillian admonished his cynical tone.
"Rum and Coke, please," Barbara ordered.
"I have to apologize for my son," Lillian stated somewhat ruefully. "Jock has been hard to get along with lately. He's been very moody these last few months."
"Some people claim there is a woman to blame," Jock stated, passing out their drinks. "Rum and Coke. Scotch for you, Todd."
"A woman?" Todd jested. "More than likely, it's women—in the plural."
Through the concealment of her lashes, Barbara darted Jock a puzzled glance. Two phrases kept echoing in her mind "moody these last few months"…"a woman to blame." Was he trying to insinuate that she'd had some sort of an aftereffect on him? It was a heady thought, but she wouldn't permit it to take root.
"To the future bride and groom." Lillian lifted her glass in a toast to Todd and Barbara.
As the three sipped their drinks, Barbara noticed that Jock didn't take part in the toast. His cocktail glass was still sitting on the drink cart, conveniently out of reach. He took his time returning to claim it. Even then, he remained apart from them, aloof from the small family celebration of their engagement, and silent. His silence made Barbara equally uncomfortable as his taunting remarks had earlier. His s
ilence, and those watchful eyes…
Chapter Three
THE COOK, a quiet Cuban woman named Antonia, removed the bowls that had contained the gazpacho, a spicy chilled soup. Her presence brought a slight pause in the conversation.
"Where do your parents live, Barbara?" Lillian asked, sitting at the end of the table as hostess while Jock sat at the head.
"They are no longer living. They were killed in an air crash five years ago," she explained quietly.
"Five years ago," Todd repeated sitting opposite her. "I didn't realize that. You were still flying as a stewardess then."
"Yes."
"Is that when you asked to be transferred?"
"No. I continued flying for almost a year, until I got the shakes," Barbara admitted. "I came to believe that what goes up must come down."
"You became afraid of flying," Jock concluded.
"In a way. But I can quote you all the statistics that prove flying is much safer than driving on our highways." She smiled in self-mockery.
"But the skies are getting crowded," Lillian insisted.
"Not as crowded as the streets. When an airliner goes down with two hundred people aboard, that's news. And it's flashed all over the world. But two hundred cars can crash with two hundred people in one day and it isn't spectacular enough to be reported. Now if one car with two hundred people in it crashed, that would be a different story," she joked with irony.
"If you are convinced flying is safe, why are you afraid?" Jock questioned.
"Fear isn't always rational," she answered with a shrug. "Everyone who flies usually gets these attacks—pilots, stewardesses, navigators. Normally they have a lot of air miles logged, more than I did. It goes away. I just transferred before mine did."
"Your parents' accident was probably a contributing factor," Lillian surmised.
"Possibly. I know the schedule, the jetlag, the layovers in strange cities were all getting to me. After my parents died I began wanting a home again—not a room where I slept between flights. I wanted to have a place of my own, somewhere that I belonged." And someone to belong to, she could have added.
