Night Music

by Linda Cajio

  No sooner did Marsh’s car disappear in one direction than another car came roaring up the drive. Devlin braked his Corvette to a screeching halt. The car door whipped open, and he got out. His expression was thunderous.

  “Surprise, surprise,” Lettice said, smiling at her usually very absent grandson. “Did the sea finally spit you back out?”

  “I want lunch, and then I’m going the hell home,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument. “And I don’t want a lot of grief while I’m here.”

  She raised her brows. “Then I suggest you go find the nearest Burger King.”

  She walked across the driveway and around the rear of his car, as far away from her glaring grandson as she could get. She wasn’t a fool.

  “She shut the damn door right in my face,” he said suddenly.

  Lettice turned around. “I see. You’d better come in for some lunch, then.”

  “Thanks.” He strode past her and on into the house. The fury in him was so obvious, she wouldn’t be surprised if he started breathing fire.

  Two angry men, she thought.

  Her plans were moving along nicely.

  Dev knocked on the door at the elegant Radnor town house. He almost couldn’t believe he was back here again. He had meant to go straight home after lunch with his grandmother. But stopping to leave a message was cheaper than calling, he told himself.

  The door opened, and Hilary stood before him again. The severe white dress she was wearing made her look as polished as an objet d’art—and about as warm. Yet at second glance he realized the dress, as simple as it was, left no doubt that she possessed a body with curves to delight a man. Her stunned expression pleased him too. He needed a little control with her.

  “My grandmother will be at some benefit for your grandfather’s hospital on Sunday,” he said, giving her no chance to recover her icy reserve. “An afternoon tea or something. Will he be there?”

  She frowned. “I don’t know. He used to go, but lately—”

  “Well, get him there,” Dev ordered.

  Her lips thinned. “I don’t get anyone anywhere.”

  “You’d better.” He grinned. “If the two of them don’t get together, you and I are stuck playing Romeo and Juliet.”

  “Heaven forbid,” she replied.

  Irritation rose up in him at her ready agreement. He forced it back down beneath the surface. What the hell should he care, anyway? They had about as much in common as a pig and a snail.

  “Maybe we’d better get some kind of plan together,” he began, stepping forward. “So that we know what we’re doing.”

  She put her hand out, stopping him. “I can’t right now. I have an engagement shortly.”

  He scowled. “Break it.”

  “No!” she snapped, her eyes blazing and her cheeks darkening. “Get a life, Devlin.”

  “Listen,” he said, glaring back at her, “I don’t have time to screw around over this, let alone waste time because you’re some social flitting butterfly. I have a charter to run.”

  She waved her hand toward his car. “Then go run it! Nobody’s stopping you.”

  She shut the door so fast, he had to jump out of the way or lose several toes. The solid-steel barrier was in his face. Again.

  His blood boiled hot and the anger spilled over. He cursed fervently, spinning toward his car.

  That was it. Ms. Prim was about to get a lesson she’d never forget.

  And she’d never shut him out again either.

  Three

  “I don’t see why I have to go to to this.”

  Hilary glanced over at her grandfather, noting his set jaw and crossed arms. She was a little surprised she’d actually gotten him this far. It had taken three days of continual arguing, pleading, and begging—on both sides. She pulled onto the grassy meadow at the Greenways Country Club, which had been set aside for parking, and said one last time, “It’s your hospital. I would think you’d want to support it.”

  “I’ll send them a check,” he said, as she’d known he would.

  “It’s for a good cause, the new pediatric surgery wing,” she replied automatically. “Which you fought for, before Grandmother died and you took to hiding from the world with this self-indulgent, maudlin garbage. She wouldn’t like it, you know.”

  He frowned at her. “You’re becoming a guilt-riding hag, you know that?”

  “Thank you. I love you too.” Hilary sighed to herself. Getting him there was about all she’d gotten. On the other hand, she thought, brightening, that was the only thing required. “If it will make you any happier, just think of it as a prime opportunity for me to drum up business. There are a hundred clients here who are just waiting for me to walk in and save their dinner parties.”

  Marsh grinned. “I wondered why you were so insistent on coming.”

  “And now you know.”

  He straightened his tie. “Then shall we indulge ourselves at this afternoon tea in the park?”

  She grabbed her white gauze picture hat from the backseat and set it carefully on her head. “It’s showtime.”

  Her grandfather chuckled. “Nobody would ever guess what the real Hilary beneath that facade is like.”

  Hilary wondered, as she often had in the past few months, if the “real Hilary” was still there. She seemed to get lost a little too often in the course of business. Then she thought of how Devlin Kitteridge, seemingly without effort, got right past her well-constructed facade. With effort, she forced his image away and reminded herself of one advantage to this day. Devlin Kitteridge wouldn’t be there.

  She and her grandfather got out of her car and strolled toward the large tent that dominated the back lawn of the country club.

  “This reminds me of times long past,” Marsh said, squinting against the bright August sunlight. “The women in filmy tea gowns and the men in white flannels. At least the day is breezy, not that humid muck we usually get in August.”

  “See? It’s not so bad.” She tucked her hand around her grandfather’s elbow, smiling to herself as she did. He was in for a big surprise.

  “Hello, darling. You look beautiful.” The unexpected words were followed by Devlin ducking his head beneath the brim of her hat and kissing her on the cheek.

  Hilary gaped at him as he straightened. Beelzebub couldn’t have appeared this fast. He looked impeccable in a blue blazer and white flannels. “What are you doing here?” she asked ungraciously when she finally found her voice.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Don’t tell me you forgot I was coming.” He turned to her grandfather and held out his hand, flawlessly covering the older man’s temper tantrum of the other day. “I believe we missed being introduced last time. I’m Devlin Kitteridge.”

  Hilary gaped again. This was the same Devlin of “watch ’em puke” fame?

  Marsh’s lips had tightened to a thin line. Grudgingly he took Devlin’s hand and shook it. “I know who you are. You look like your … grandfather.”

  Devlin nodded. “Others have said that.”

  “I see some people I should talk with,” Marsh said to Hilary. “Will you excuse me?”

  Hilary racked her brain for a protest. The last thing she wanted was to be left alone with this changeling. Maybe this was really Miles filling in for his brother. That would explain a lot.

  “Of course,” Devlin said. To her, he added, “Would you like some champagne, darling?”

  Her grandfather stomped away at the endearment. Off to a great start, Hilary thought worriedly. Remembering their “business opportunity” conversation in the car, she figured her grandfather thought she was a liar of the first water.

  “Get with the program, woman,” Devlin muttered to her as he pulled her in the opposite direction. His hand was like an iron band around her upper arm. “If we’re to be believable, you’ve got to act the part.”

  “What are you talking about?” she demanded, pulling up short. At least, she thought ruefully, she now knew she was with the “real Devlin.” “What
program? What are you doing here?”

  He made a face. “Playing this stupid matchmaking business to the hilt. What did you think?”

  “That you weren’t coming.” She glanced around at the crowd. Devlin had hauled her to the outer edges of it. “Where’s your grandmother? If I got him out for nothing—”

  “She’s here, don’t worry.” He looked around. “Somewhere. Of course I was coming. I even wanted to talk to you about it when I stopped by your house the other day.”

  She frowned, remembering that conversation clearly. She ought to; she’d actually managed to get away with her control intact. “You said if I got him here, we wouldn’t have to act … interested in each other anymore.”

  “Eventually. Obviously your grandfather doesn’t like us together, so obviously hell come out to try to stop us. Just as obviously my grandmother wants us together. And just as obviously shell come out to see that we are. Don’t you have a brain?”

  She smiled sweetly. “Yes, and it’s well used too.”

  “Could have fooled me.” He grimaced. “Let’s leave the barb trading to a minimum, okay? If we don’t act interested in each other, we’ll never convince my grandmother or your grandfather that something’s going on.”

  She gazed at his handsome, rugged face with its cynical expression. His expensive clothes accentuated the lines of his lean body almost as well as his faded jeans did. Thinking of his body made her all too aware of the few inches separating them. His cologne mingled with his natural, musky scent, enticing her senses. He was extremely attractive … and extremely dangerous.

  “I suppose I could force myself to fake it,” she said, her squeaking voice betraying her agitation.

  He took her hand and pulled her against him so abruptly, she couldn’t even gasp for breath. Every inch of him was pressed intimately to every inch of her. Her body heated instantly, and so did her face at the thought of people seeing them like this.

  “By the time I get through, Hilary Rayburn, you won’t even know what force means.”

  “Get real, Devlin,” she said, trying to ignore the quick pounding of her heart. “Your track record so far consists only of Neanderthal tactics. You can’t even do it now without a little macho indulgence. Will you let me go?”

  He stared at her, then smiled a slow, leisurely smile. The air seemed to whoosh out of her already-constricted lungs. But he let her go.

  “You could use a little macho indulgence,” he said, courteously holding out his arm to her.

  She tucked her hand around his elbow, then leaned close to him. “What I could use,” she murmured, “you don’t have.”

  The fingers of his other hand wrapped warmly around hers as they began to stroll together. She felt the touch shudder through her.

  “If you think that,” he replied, tilting his head down to hers, “then you’re about to be surprised … darling.”

  She eased away from him as much as she could. “Don’t flatter yourself. And call me darling or anything resembling that word again and you’ll be looking at your back teeth. Understand?”

  He chuckled. “I think I’m beginning to like you, Hilary.”

  She smiled, feeling strangely exhilarated. “Heaven forbid.”

  He patted her hand. “Come on. Let’s go steal some champagne.”

  Marsh watched his granddaughter lean forward and whisper something intimate to Devlin Kitteridge. He hadn’t missed their short embrace a moment earlier either. They were oblivious to everything around them. The attraction between the young couple was so tangible, he could almost reach out and touch it.

  He remembered all too well when he and Lettice had acted similarly. The thought left him feeling ill.

  “They make a handsome couple, don’t you think?”

  Lettice’s voice plunged through him like a shock of cold water. He hadn’t heard her come up. Maybe it was time for a hearing aid.

  Somehow, though, a part of him wasn’t surprised by her presence. A vague expectation was now satisfied.

  “No,” he said, looking straight at her.

  “Liar,” she replied softly.

  Not much ever fooled her, he thought. She looked very beautiful in a lavender lace coat with a matching dress underneath. Silver hair peeked out from beneath her picture hat. The color was still a shock for him.

  “You must be proud of the turnout today,” she added, when he didn’t respond to her barb. “After all, this is your wing.”

  “The hospital’s wing, not mine.”

  “You started it, I understand.”

  He shrugged. “I’m surprised you don’t have all the dirt. You used to.”

  “I still hear a thing or two. You look well after all these years,” she said. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you that the other day. You were too busy being the outraged grandfather.”

  “I still am,” he told her. “But I know when I’ve been outmaneuvered, and I’m just not going to kick up a fuss in front of others.”

  “You can’t stop them or what they feel, Marsh.”

  “You stopped fast enough,” he snapped. “You turned it off the moment I lost everything … and then turned it right back on with Kitteridge.”

  She stared at him for one long, endless moment, then walked away.

  “I didn’t think you really meant it,” Hilary said.

  Dev grinned as he poured champagne into two plastic glasses. He’d casually filched the bottle out of the ice tub when the bartender had been busy. He didn’t bother to tell Hilary he’d left more than enough money in its place. “How else did you think we were going to get a whole bottle of the stuff?”

  “Ask?”

  He chuckled. “That’s no fun.”

  She leaned back against the trunk of the huge oak tree they were sitting under. The small, crowded-together wrought-iron tables hadn’t appealed to them, so they’d strolled farther out into the meadow.

  To Dev’s own surprise, he’d been a gentleman and spread his coat out for her to sit on. Lucky coat, he thought, eyeing the way her slim thighs melded into the material. Her dress was a soft and filmy cotton that clung in all the right places, with a low-cut scoop neckline and a white collar. She looked like a modern Gibson Girl.

  She held her stemmed glass up and eyed it. “It’s a sacrilege to put champagne in plastic.”

  He held up the bottle. “It’s cheap champagne.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s okay, then.” She swallowed it down in one gulp, then shivered. “Lord. It’s like drinking vinegar and bad tonic water.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Do you always drink champagne like that?”

  “Only the cheap stuff.”

  “I see.” He poured her another glass. It would be interesting to see Ms. Prim a little tipsy, he thought as he took a careful sip of his own. She was right on the money about the taste.

  “I’m surprised you’re not on your boat today,” she said. “What happened? No charter?”

  “There’s always a charter.” He rested his arms on his bent knees, his glass dangling precariously in his hands. “Billy took the Madeline Jo today.” He frowned darkly. “And he damn well better bring her in without a scratch.”

  “I take it Billy is your first mate?”

  “And general swabbie.” Dev shrugged off the worry. There was no sense to it while he was stuck here. Unfortunately sitting there with Hilary didn’t feel like “stuck.”

  “Billy sounds young,” she said.

  Dev chuckled. “Billy’s a retired accountant. This fills the days, I guess. I’m grateful for him, but I wish he was more forceful at times.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I have one rule for my charters. No booze, no drugs, and no women unless they’re wives. All three are trouble I don’t need. Billy hates to be the bad guy by telling them no.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Why make an exception for wives? I would think a machismo captain like you wouldn’t want any women on board.”

  “Wives, dear lady, are the on
ly women who are serious about the fishing when they’re with the men, so I allow them. Other women are too busy turning on the sex appeal in front of the men, and the men are too busy paying attention to them instead of the fish. They can do the same thing in the lobby of the Taj Mahal. I’m not a floating hotel.”

  She grinned. “But you are a male chauvinist.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You sound like you love your boat very much.”

  He smiled. “She’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  “Ahh, I see.” She nodded knowingly. “Far more than a boat, slightly less than a mistress.”

  He laughed at her description. “Close. I also have a silent partnership in a cruise ferry for gamblers between Wildwood and Atlantic City. That one I leave to my partner. But I love being on the water. You never know what will pop up—”

  “Such as Jaws,” she broke in.

  “Or a pod of whales or a school of dolphins or a sudden squall.” He gazed at her. “Anything can be out there, and you’re in something that’s about the size of a peanut, challenging it.”

  She glanced down at her glass. “Your boat has a pretty name.”

  He looked away. “Yes.”

  She said nothing more, and he wondered if she knew about the accident. He couldn’t imagine that she didn’t. Nobody let a scandal lie sleeping as it should, but he was grateful she hadn’t mentioned it or asked about it. Hilary Rayburn went up a few points in his estimation. He glanced at her glass. It was still full. “Aren’t you drinking?”

  She grinned at him. “Not if I can help it.”

  “I could try to steal a better brand this time.”

  “Maybe later.”

  He swallowed the last of his champagne and poured himself some more. “So, why aren’t you attached to anyone?”