by Janet Dailey
She gulped back the outcry of pain and looked blindly away from his face. Hot waves of humiliation and shame engulfed her. She tried to pull free of his arms, but he kept her there and she was too stunned and hurt to care.
“You don't care for me—at all?” she asked in agonizing softness.
“I want you,” he said bitterly, “the same way I've wanted dozens of other women."
Her shoulders hunched forward. “You don't feel any difference with me?"
“What difference could there be?” Jarod mocked.
“Love."
“There's no such thing,” he jeered. “Through the ages, lust has been disguised as love, Love doesn't last any longer than lust does, because they're the same thing. Love is a joke."
“That's not true!” she protested vigorously.
He chuckled derisively. “There's two divorces for every marriage. Is that your proof of lasting love?"
“What about the people who are together for thirty or forty years?"
“You sentimental fool! First they were trapped by children and mortgages and security. Then they became habits to each other and were too old and tired to break them."
“Oh, God!” Amanda felt sick to her stomach, unable to accept the scorn the man she loved was displaying.
“After a few months, you'll find that you don't love me,” Jarod went on cynically. “The newness will wear off and I'll no longer excite you the way I do now. It's always the same."
“A few months,” she moaned bitterly. “Is that how long most of your women last?"
There was a pause. “Yes."
“Even Vanessa.” Her lips trembled as she said the name.
“Vanessa Scott? She didn't last that long."
“Yet you always go back to her,” Amanda remarked numbly.
“Did she tell you that?” he mocked. “She wants to marry money. It's not me she's after."
“I can't believe I'm hearing any of this.” Her hands moved to cup her ears. “I tell you that I love you and you laugh at me!"
“I'm not laughing. You've let yourself get carried away with your emotions and have started believing in something that doesn't exist,” he told her harshly. “You want me and I want you, but don't build the desire you feel into romantic dreams."
“I love you, Jarod. The way I feel is no dream that's going to fade in the morning. I thought I had no pride where you were concerned.” She spoke softly but for the first time calmly. “If all you want from me is an affair, then the answer is no. If, as you say, all you feel is lust, I don't ever want you to touch me again."
His penetrating gaze scrutinized her expression. The tightening of his mouth acknowledged the conviction he saw written there.
“Very well,” he said grimly. “I'll take you home."
“I feel sorry for you, Jarod,” Amanda said numbly as she started to get into the car. “To not believe in love must make you the loneliest man in the world."
But his dark head moved as if he felt sorry for her because of her delusion. The light in his eyes mocked her as he slid behind the wheel. Amanda felt surrounded by a polar ice, stunned by the freezing grip on her chest. Each slow beat of her heart seemed to widen the crack that was slowly appearing in its walls. The pain was unbearable, too deep to be assuaged by tears as she huddled silently against the car door. Unseeing eyes stared out the window of the moving automobile. The only image that registered in her mind was Jarod's face, carved lines untouched by softness. Now she understood why. A man who felt no love could exhibit no gentleness.
* * * *
IT WAS DAYS before the numbed shock wore off. And after them came a succession of more days when Amanda tried desperately to hate Jarod. If he had deceived her, she might have succeeded in her attempt. Instead she found her abiding love for him laced with compassion and even pity, because what meaning was there to life without love?
The searing heat of August promised that September was not far away. Amanda held on to her sanity by convincing herself that when September came, she would return to college and leave behind the images that haunted her. No more would Jarod's ghost appear in the living-room door as it had done on that last night, nor would his wraith-tike form flit through the halls and ballroom of Oak Run. The tempestuous dreams of being smothered by his burning kisses might even end. But she didn't really believe the breach in her heart would ever heal.
At first her family had teased her about Jarod's absence after the marked attention he had paid her. Then they began to look behind her stoical replies and see the strain behind her smile and the dullness in her brown eyes, and his name was avoided. The unasked questions in her parents’ eyes were the hardest to ignore. Only once did her mother ask what had happened. Amanda had shrugged and said they had quarreled, adding to stave off more questions that it was personal. Her parents held considerable esteem for Jarod as an employer and a man. Somehow she couldn't bring herself to destroy that, no matter how much he had hurt her. Vengeance wasn't part of her nature.
Beads of perspiration had collected on her forehead and upper lip as Amanda turned to wave her thanks to Linda, who had given her a ride home from Oak Run after her father had failed to come for her. A smile flitted across her face as she noticed the family car still parked in the driveway. He had probably become engrossed in a baseball game and forgotten the time.
As she mounted the porch steps, she could hear no blare of the radio. Only silence came from the house. As she swung open the screen door, the whirr of an oscillating fan came from the living room. There was no rattle of dishes or silverware, no odor of food being cooked for Saturday-night dinner, no voices, only the lonely whirr of the fan.
“Mom! Dad!” A puzzled frown wrinkled her brow as she walked down the hall glancing into each empty room. “Grandpa! Where is everybody?” Her path carried to the stairwell. “Bonnie, are you home?” Only her own voice echoed back.
A car door slammed in the front of the house and Amanda hurried back to the door. She reached the screen door at the same instant that a tall, dark figure strode onto the porch. The blood receded from her face, leaving an unnaturally white pallor to her skin.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered as Jarod opened the door and walked in.
“I went to Oak Run to pick you up, but you'd already left,” he said as if that answered her question.
Her eyes hungrily devoured his face, reimprinting each ruggedly handsome line on her mind as if in the next moment she would be struck blind and his was the last face she wanted to see.
“What do you want?” she demanded as she turned away before the temptation to melt into his arms would become irresistible.
“Amanda—” he began.
His hand reached out to grasp the soft flesh of her arm left bare by the ruffled gown that was her uniform, but she wrenched free of his hold, emitting a tortured cry, “Don't touch me! Don't come near me! Haven't you hurt me enough already?"
“Stop it!” This time his fingers held her shoulders in an iron grip from which she couldn't shake free. “Your father is in the hospital. I promised your mother I would bring you there as soon as I could."
Her struggles stopped. “Is this some cruel joke? Some devious new plan of yours?” she cried bitterly. Fear clouded her eyes as she stared into the unchanging, harsh expression on his face.
“It's no joke. The doctors think your father has suffered a stroke,” he answered grimly.
“I don't believe you.” Red gold curls fanned her cheeks as she shook her head vigorously. “How would you know what's happened to my father?"
Jarod breathed in deeply as if to control his anger. “I'm a director on the hospital board. We were touring the hospital this afternoon to make recommendations on updating the facilities. I was there when the ambulance brought your father in."
“No!” Her protest was a horrified gasp, but this time Amanda believed him.
“Don't get hysterical on me,” Jarod ordered. He must have seen the panic forming in her eyes. “
He's alive, but his condition is critical. Your brother and grandfather are at the hospital now, but I think your mother needs a woman with her. Go upstairs and change out of that gown. Where's your little sister?"
“Bonnie?” she asked blankly, trying to gather her scattered wits and react with the calmness he possessed. “She's, er, she's working, I think ... She's a waitress at ... at Shorty's Café. I ... I can't remember what time her shift ends,"
There was a frantic sob in her last statement and the pressure of his hold increased slightly in a silent command not to panic. “I'll call and find out while you change,” he said firmly. He turned her around and pointed her in the general direction of the stairs.
After the first few faltering steps that Amanda took in compliance, tears began streaming down her face. She gathered the long folds of her gown in her hands and ran the rest of the way to her room. Her parents had always seemed indestructible, growing older without ever aging. She couldn't even remember them ever being sick. Now her father was lying in critical condition in the hospital. Her fingers were trembling so badly she couldn't unhook the back of her gown. Sobs of despair tore at her throat as she attacked the metal fasteners again.
“Amanda?” Jarod's voice came from the upstairs hall.
“I'm ... I'm in here,” she called weakly,
The door to her room opened immediately. “Bonnie left the restaurant about five minutes ago. She'll be here any minute,” he told her.
“I can't undo these hooks,” she murmured. The sight of his composure forced back the sobs as she quickly scrubbed the tears from her face.
Under any other circumstances Amanda would have been conscious of the swift sureness of his fingers as they unhooked her gown. Their touch would have inflamed her, but now she was only grateful for their steadiness. The need for haste pushed aside her modesty as she stepped out of the ruffled gown, letting it fall in a heap on the floor. Partially aware that her scanty undergarments left little to the imagination, Amanda accepted the pantsuit that Jarod had taken from her closet, avoiding his onlooking gaze.
“Hello! Where is everybody?"
With her clothes in her hand, Amanda ran to the door. “I'm upstairs, Bonnie!” she called. “Come up here."
Then she turned, the sound of her sister's footsteps on the stairs. Her frightened eyes turned to Jarod, needing the assurance of his self-possession to break the news about their father.
“Get your clothes on,” he said quietly. The dispassion of his tone calmed the sudden acceleration of Amanda's heart at her sister's arrival.
“Where's everybody gone?” Bonnie demanded as she burst into the room, stopping short at the sight of Jarod standing in the center and Amanda just stepping into a pair of slacks. Bonnie immediately took a hasty step backward, her face coloring in embarrassment.
“Bonnie, wait!” Amanda called out, glancing guiltily at Jarod as she realized how intimate the scene must look. “Jarod is here because—” she walked quickly to take her younger sister's hands"—daddy's ... daddy's in the hospital."
Bonnie looked from one to the other in disbelief. “No!"
“I couldn't believe it, either, but it's true.” Amanda stared down at the hands held in her own.
“Your father has had a stroke.” Jarod walked up behind them and handed Amanda the rust print blouse that matched her slacks, a gentle reminder to finish dressing. “As soon as Amanda is ready, I'll take you both to the hospital so you can be with your mother."
“But daddy has never been sick,” Bonnie protested. “You must be wrong!"
As her sister threatened to give way to the hysteria rising within her, Jarod stepped between them, his soft, husky voice gently admonishing her to remain calm, that her mother would need the strength of all her children. All the while his dark gaze kept track of Amanda's movements so that when she was ready to leave, he had already begun guiding Bonnie to the stairs.
At the hospital the two girls were shocked by the ravages of fear and grief that had aged their mother before their eyes. That numbed sense of disbelief seemed to hang like a cloud over everyone, including their grandfather, who sat hunched in a corner, a shadow of his former lively self, unable to accept that somewhere in the hospital his son was fighting for his life.
“How is he, mamma?” Amanda asked, extracting herself from her mother's tender hug and helping her to a nearby chair.
“I don't know,” was the mumbled reply.
“The doctors are still with him.” Brad was standing beside the chair, his eyes bright with unshed tears.
Her mother turned imploring eyes on Jarod. “Perhaps you could find out?” she asked anxiously. “I shouldn't ask you. You've done so much already."
“We've been all over that, Bernice.” Jarod smiled, ignoring Amanda's look of surprise that he should address her mother so familiarly. “I'll see what I can find out for you."
Then he was striding away without waiting to hear the fervent thank-you from her mother. They all remained in huddled silence for long minutes before Amanda rose and walked to her brother.
“Have you telephoned Marybeth and Brian? Where's Teddy?” she asked in a low voice so her mother couldn't overhear.
“Jarod's already contacted everyone,” Brad told her, shaking his head as if he couldn't believe it himself. “Mandy, I don't ... I don't know what we would have done if he hadn't been here at the hospital. Mom just sort of went to pieces and grandpa—he hasn't said a word since we got here. And I wasn't any help at all. Mom kept crying and crying. Then Jarod showed up and took charge. He and mom went off in a corner until she finally stopped crying. I don't know what you and Jarod had a fight about, but whatever it was, he more than apologized for it today."
However futilely, her brother's words made Amanda's love run deeper. Knowing how Jarod's composure had kept her from falling apart and the way he had staved off Bonnie's hysteria, she knew his quiet authority had to have affected her mother the same way. This knowledge radiated in a glow of pride when he returned a few minutes later, bearing the news that the doctors believed her father's condition had stabilized.
“It will be a while before you're allowed to see him,” Jarod told her mother, “but I think the worst is over. It might be permissible to shed a few tears of happiness now even if the danger hasn't completely passed."
Weak, laughing sighs of relief echoed through the room as they all said silent prayers of thanks. Yet none wanted to voice their jubilation aloud. As Jarod had said, the danger hadn't completely passed. Amanda's hand touched Jarod's arm, wanting to express gratitude for all he had done. She smiled tentatively as his dark gaze moved thoughtfully over her face.
“May I see you alone?” she asked softly. There was a slight inclination of his head in agreement and she turned to her mother. “We'll be back in a few minutes,” Amanda assured her.
With a smile that was divided equally between them, her mother nodded her understanding and Jarod and Amanda walked from the small waiting room.
Chapter Nine
THE HAND SLIGHTLY RESTING on her back guided Amanda to the vacant sun room. Now that she was alone with Jarod, she felt self-conscious. She watched him light a cigarette and she gathered the courage to speak.
“I want to thank you for all you've done,” she said hesitantly, her eyes downcast.
“Perhaps you should save your thanks until you've found out what it is that I have done.” Before his voice had been persuasively soothing; now there was a brittle quality to it that brought her gaze up sharply.
“What do you mean?” she murmured, noticing the mocking glitter that appeared in his eyes.
“How familiar are you with your parents’ financial situation?” he parried her question.
“What has that got to do with this?” Amanda frowned.
“Are you aware that everything they own is under second and third mortgages? Did you know all medical coverage has been cancelled? I'm certain you know they have no savings, not with four children in college. At this moment,
the only money they have is the two weeks’ sick-leave pay your father is entitled to receive from my company.” Jarod paused to let the full gravity of the situation sink in. “In less than a month, there'll be no money to pay bills, provide food or shelter, nothing for the cost of the hospital, and no tuition money for you or your brothers."
“Oh, my God!” Amanda reeled from the almost physical blow of his words. She had never guessed how severe the repercussions could be from her father's attack. “Does mother know all this?"
“That was the main reason for her panic,” he replied. “After she'd told me all this, I convinced her that my company would take care of everything. I didn't mention that whether Colby Enterprises carries it out or not depends on you."
“On me? Why does it depend on me?” she whispered, frightened by the ominous threat hidden in his words.
“Because—dammit!—I still want you!” Jarod snapped, grinding out his cigarette in an ashtray.
Her stomach lurched sickeningly. “So what are you asking?” She was surprised that her voice could sound so calm. “Do you want me to become your mistress?"
“I would be satisfied with that arrangement,” he admitted satirically. “Unfortunately it would only be a matter of time before your parents found out, and I think they would have qualms about taking money from their daughter's lover."
Amanda turned blindly away, her mind searching wildly for another way to come up with the money that would be needed.
“I wouldn't have to return to college. Brad has enough saved for his first term's tuition. Maybe Teddy does, too, and Brian,” she said frantically.
“Even if you were able to take care of that, it wouldn't solve the problem of the bills and payments and medical costs, not counting what it would take to live,” he jeered. “Not even Tobe, who comes from a fairly wealthy family, would be able to loan or give your family enough money to keep it going, particularly since his parents don't approve of his relationship with yours.” There was a sardonic light in his eyes as they glittered complacently over her. “Believe me, I've considered all the possibilities that might be open to you as alternatives to my offer. If you want your family to retain its status quo, Amanda, you'll have to come to me."
