“In what way?”
“Drugs. Just recreational, but still…”
Lina set her neck, convincing herself not to look in Alice’s direction. “How old is she?”
“Twenty.”
“Young enough to get out. But I can’t help her.”
He turned her around, moved her through the now comfortably full dance floor. It disguised them without impeding their progress. “I know. I don’t want you to. She’s you seven years ago.”
This time she didn’t suppress her shudder. “I hope not.”
He gave her a quizzical stare. “What do you mean?”
She glanced away and shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I was a very unhappy person seven years ago. That’s all.”
He smoothed a hand up her back, reached the edge of her gown and deliberately splayed his fingers over her bare skin. She bit her lip and swallowed her moan.
He chuckled. “I know exactly what you mean. I feel it too. Come home with me, Lina.”
“No.”
“I want you.”
“I want you too, but it isn’t what we need right now.” She couldn’t do this, couldn’t bring all the attention to his door. And she still felt shaky, wanted to make sure she was absolutely okay before she left what had become the haven of the Dakota apartment. “Give me some time.”
“I’ll look after you.”
“Too much.” Having regained her composure, she lifted her head and smiled at him. Their gazes locked. “I need to know some things, need to check details.”
“Like what?”
She drew a deep breath. They’d almost stopped moving. “I want to be whole. Sort out my life.”
“Do it with me.”
“No.” She still felt unsure, and the last thing she wanted to do was allow someone to take care of her. Care for her, yes, but not take her over. Jon was a strong man, and he’d try to run her life. Maybe. Right now she couldn’t take that risk. “Not yet, Jon. You need to move on, too. Get over Byron’s death.”
He leaned closer, murmured so close to her ear she could feel his hot breath on the rim. “I said goodbye to my brother a long time ago. Last week I just completed the process.” They moved in the dance for a few bars before he said, “I’ll give you time, Lina, but not much. If you don’t come to me soon, I’ll come for you. I’ll make it public, I’ll ask you in front of your family.”
“I’ll say no.”
“Are you sure about that?”
No. She wasn’t sure at all.
Chapter Thirteen
“I’m not sure I like this opera.” His mother stirred and reached for another chocolate.
“Hmm?” Jon couldn’t remember what the fucking opera was for a minute. The singers were engaged in an elaborate recitative, so he couldn’t even find a tune to pick on. Oh yes, vaguely Egyptian costumes. Aida. He’d lost himself contemplating the box opposite. Had the Farinas booked it especially to mock him, they couldn’t have been more successful. The picture of the happy family, he’d thought at first.
On stage, the King of Egypt launched into a eulogy about his new heir, Radames. Shit, that meant another two acts. The beauty of the piece completely eluded him. His mother felt the same way. But Alice, snuggled by his side, appeared enthralled. So they had to stay until the end.
Tonight he’d decided to end the farce with Alice. Perhaps Aida wasn’t the perfect date to do it on. Alice had clung and clung and driven him out of his mind this last two weeks. He’d hinted, made himself unavailable, but she hadn’t done the right thing and drifted away. And it seemed that everywhere he went, he saw a Farina. Or Lina. And by the way she and Gary were getting on, she might be a Farina soon.
The thought made him heartsick. But at least he didn’t have to be buried alive in a tomb with his beloved. He had that advantage over Radames and Aida.
Beloved? Shit, not possible. He refused to turn into the kind of pansy who couldn’t forget one woman. Even if it was true. Anyway, two weeks wasn’t nearly enough time to get her out of his mind. No, that wouldn’t work. He’d told himself that, remembered women who’d gotten under his skin before, but never as much as this, never as persistently.
He turned his head a little, not enough to offend but enough to put him out of the direct stream of Alice’s perfume. Someone must have told her the sultry, musky stuff worked on her. It didn’t. Especially this version of it. It made him feel slightly sick. Sometimes he had to work hard to persuade himself that the problem wasn’t with Alice—it was with him. But the way she clung irritated him. Literally clung, hanging on to his arm whenever she could. A shame he couldn’t tell her to mind the suit, but he’d been brought up to be polite.
He watched Lina lean into Gary Farina. He smiled and the lenses of his glasses flashed in the light from the stage when he turned to hand her something. She was half in shadow but by the tilt of her head and her posture he could tell she was having a good time. He wanted to be there with her, wanted to murmur to her that Radames was too fat to attract a looker like Aida, that he’d take the princess over both Aida and Radames. Make her laugh, so she’d make him laugh. She’d tell him that he shouldn’t be looking anyway, and he’d tell her that he didn’t look at anybody seriously these days. Not since—
“Do you want to risk the bar?”
He hadn’t noticed the end of the act. Two more to go. He forced a smile. “Yes, if that’s what you want to do.”
“I’ll stay here.” His mother leaned back and gave him a beatific smile. If she said anything about young things needing time together, he’d go straight home. “I believe Henry Carstaires said he might stop by. Don’t hurry back.”
Great. Just great. He stood, hardly needing to hold out his hand before Alice was there. Better she clung to his hand than to his sleeve, he supposed.
They went out and headed to the bar with the rest of the masses. He’d have to make conversation while he stood in line and then gulp down his drink when the bells sounded. It would have been fun with someone else.
No. It was the height of bad manners not to at least make sure she enjoyed herself tonight, her last night with him. He’d tried not calling her, but she’d called him. He’d tried cool, but she said she liked him not crawling over her like her other boyfriends. All the while gazing at him with a look that said, “Take me now.”
He wouldn’t do that. She wasn’t even his type. Before Lina, he’d enjoyed the company of tall, slim brunettes with confidence and style. Alice was much too young and vulnerable. And blonde, though not as blonde as Lina. He still found it hard to believe that pale color was real. But he’d seen the roots, seen how she covered it up to make her less distinctive. As if he wouldn’t know her anywhere.
If she hadn’t been sitting opposite them, he’d have done better tonight. But although he’d decided to give her time to settle back into her old life, he still missed her. It’d pass. Just not with Alice. Maybe that was what he needed—one of his stunning brunettes, one of his oh-so-civilized, friendly affairs. Friends with benefits. Fuck buddies. It sounded so pointless now. But he’d get back to it.
Or he would if he didn’t keep colliding with the fucking Farinas and Lina Forde all the time. Like now.
Alice would have dragged him past them, but he paused and stopped to chat. It would have been rude not to. Alice smiled up at Gary. “Hi.”
“Hey. You like opera?”
“Love it.” They embarked on a long discussion of Aidas We Have Known and left Jon free to speak to Lina.
So finding himself tongue-tied came as a surprise. “So how are you?” he managed.
She took a breath. “Fine. Getting there.”
Seeing her closer he noticed fine lines at the corners of her mouth. Lines of strain. “You know I’ll help you any way I can.”
“Yes, thanks.” She glanced at Alice. “Are you a couple now?”
His mouth moved into a wry twist. “Hardly.”
“That’s what the gossip says. You’re a couple, beautifully suited
.”
“Gossip rarely gets it right.” But if she’d heard, it was definitely time to call a halt. Tonight. He’d tell Alice tonight. He’d tried other ways, kinder ways, given her ample opportunity to tell him to get lost, but she hadn’t taken the bait. “She’s getting on well with your date.”
Her snort made her date glance at her, a quizzical smile in his eyes. “Sorry,” she said. He gave her a smile Jon thought far too intimate and glanced back at Alice, now talking in a far more animated manner than she ever managed with him. “I didn’t know you liked the opera.”
He grinned. “I didn’t know you did.”
She pointed at herself. “Duh! Italian!” then laughed. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist. Not every Italian enjoys the opera, but it’s our heritage. So you have to enjoy it.”
“Are you enjoying this one?”
She shrugged, the thin straps of her deep red dress threatening to slip down. Although he knew clever design would keep the garment up, he wanted to lift the straps more securely. And hold them there.
Wondering at his sudden attack of modesty on her behalf, he glanced down at her, then at Alice. He was glad to see Lina hadn’t lost weight under the pressure of so many society sticks. “I think it’s taking itself too seriously. Even Aida should have a certain loose quality.” She gave a nervous laugh. “I’m not explaining myself very well, am I?”
“You’re explaining yourself beautifully.”
Alice jerked around to stare at him, and too late he recognized the warmth in his own tone. He didn’t try to excuse himself but met her stare straight-on. “B-Lina says she finds the opera too reverent.”
“Oh no, I thought it got it right. After all, there’s a lot of pomp and circumstance in Aida, isn’t there?”
“It’s crowding out the romance,” Lina said. “But hey, a great performance is different things to different people. Don’t you think?”
Alice licked her lips and looked from Lina to Jon and back. “I guess so.”
“I wanted to contact you.” He gave his attention to Lina again, watched the way her hair brushed her shoulders. Dragged his mind away from the thought of pushing it aside so he could taste where it had been. “I thought you might like to visit Franco. He’s settled in his store, and I think it’ll be a great success.”
“The one at the top of Fifth?”
He shrugged. “I changed my mind. I have a store on Forty-Second, near the Empire State, so I’m doing something else. Would you like to go see him?”
“I’d love to.”
Before she could ask for the address, he said, “I’ll call you tomorrow. Will that be okay?”
“Oh yes.” She coughed and gave him a grin. “Here.” She fished a card out of a delicate purse. So she’d had her new address printed up already. What did he expect? “My number.”
It became his ambition to change the address on that card.
He took Alice home after that. In the car, she turned to face him, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter.” He hated that it did, but admired her for not collapsing then and there. She’d told him that her headache was getting worse. He glanced at the cabbie, made sure the privacy screen was closed. “I’m sorry, Alice. I tried.”
“You can’t get her off your mind.”
“Something like that.”
“I tell you what. Come back when you have.” She smiled, but the expression had no humor in it. “It shouldn’t take you long to get her out of your system.”
Typical. He’d heard his mother say much the same thing once. To his father. His sort didn’t divorce unless they’d tried a civilized cohabitation with separate bedrooms first.
He saw Alice to her door and when she tried to kiss him, he backed off, holding her hands in a warm clasp. “Alice, you know we can’t. I value you, and I like you, but I don’t think we’re really good together.”
She went inside and he left before he could hear her crying. He felt like a complete heel, but he knew he’d done the right thing. Stopped it before anyone could make too many assumptions.
“So what’s wrong with Alice?”
Typical of his mother to confront him now, when he still felt raw from his encounter with Lina. She’d dropped by his apartment that evening, right after he’d taken Alice home. Jon was in no mood for prevarication so he told her the truth. Some of it, anyway. “Because she’s not the brightest bulb in the basket.”
“She’s pretty, well-connected, young and sweet.”
He dragged his bow tie undone. The fucking thing had been slowly strangling him all evening. He shrugged off his tux jacket and dropped it on a nearby chair. “There’s no spark. I always wanted—want—a woman to love.”
She made a derisory sound. “It’s overrated. Partnership is more important. And friendship. I saw you with Bellina Forde. I hope you’re not looking in that direction.”
“Why not? She has the right surname.”
His mother laughed. She crossed the living space toward the cupboard where he kept his liquor. “Mind if I have a drink?”
“Help yourself.” She would anyway.
Her voice drifted back as she studied the contents and selected a bottle filled with the green liqueur she liked. The only reason he had it was her. His mother didn’t drink a great deal, but she had decided preferences. “Her mother married Forde because of his money, but also his name. It turned out not to be the Forde family she thought. She was always a social climber.” She found the right glass and poured a small amount before closing the cupboard door carefully and turning to face him again. “You know she was delighted when Byron took up with Bellina.”
He knew.
“She didn’t care about the places Bellina took him.” She took a sip, watching him all the time.
He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the freshly shorn locks with mild surprise. He’d been so busy, he’d had the barber visit him in his office. “It wasn’t her taking him. He took her. Every place I went to when I was looking for him after they first disappeared, every place, Mother, said he was the member, she the guest. He instigated the adventures. He called them adventures. I don’t know what drove her. Byron thought of himself as a frustrated artist. He was a failed artist.”
“He was a good artist! I never thought you were so jealous, Jonathan.” She sipped again, her blue eyes icy.
“He was an average artist and he couldn’t take it when professionals told him so. He didn’t drop out of art college—they threw him out because he didn’t come up to scratch. And then he started haunting nightclubs and worse places. Call him a lost soul, Mother, like you usually do. It suits him better. He never found the right way, and the drugs became his religion. He took Lina to Rome, not the other way around. When she left him, he was bereft.”
Her eyes kindled fire now. “Yes, she left him. Left him to his death.”
“She was involved in a road accident and got her leg broken. The nuns who rescued her advised her to leave. After she recovered and went through rehab, she went back to see Byron. He wouldn’t go with her. She tried to save him, Mom, but she had to go in order to save herself.”
That was the trouble. Was Lina totally sure she didn’t tell Byron where she was going? He knew her better now, and he was inclined to believe she didn’t. By then she’d traced the truth about the would-be brilliant lost soul. But she might have let it slip. Otherwise how did Byron know where to find her?
His mother went totally still. Other people might shift or turn away, but not Channing Brantley. She’d been raised in a harder school, one that faced problems and the people who caused them head-on.
Jon could almost see her mask descend. He’d never seen her distraught, never less than in control. “I suspected as much. I wanted to believe the best in him, always. You had your father to guide you, but when he washed his hands of Byron, he only had me. Now he has nobody. And it seems that you’ll even get his girl.”
“My fault?” Her gaze showed nothing. By that, he knew she was hurting deep inside. He also knew she’d never show it, to him, anyway.
“No. I think it lay in him. Byron always wanted the easy way and when he didn’t get it, he’d give up and move on to something else. The drugs refused to give him up and they beat him in the end. What Lina did had little to do with that.”
“I see.” She paused, and the diamond pendant she wore glittered when she took a breath. “You know my feelings about that family, but if you really want her, I won’t push you away. If she behaves.” Trust his mother to add that caveat. He almost smiled. “But I don’t trust the family her mother has married into.”
He raised a brow. “Why not? They live in the Dakota, so they’re not short of funds, like Anna’s other boyfriends. They seem as if they want to care for her.”
She shrugged and finished her drink, signaling the end of her own personal crisis. “I don’t know. Call it a woman’s instinct. But when I saw them tonight I didn’t like the way they crowded her. You know the older one watched you all the time? Didn’t take his eyes off you for a minute.”
He wouldn’t reject her feelings. She rarely revealed them to him. “You can call it instinct, but it’s honed by years of observation. Dad trusted you. He listened to your instincts and I can’t remember you ever being wrong. I’ll have them quietly investigated.”
She walked forward slowly, steadily.
“I’ll call you a cab, unless you want to use the spare bedroom here.” She shook her head. He hadn’t really expected her to spend a night away from home. Not without her essential equipment, the case that contained the things she considered vital. And she hadn’t brought them tonight. Knowing he needed it, knowing she needed it too, he grabbed her around the waist and gave her a noisy kiss on the forehead. Her halfhearted but stern-sounding protests made him grin as he brought out his cell and found his mother’s favorite taxi company.
Learning to Trust Page 14
