by Sandra Brown
Even more galling was the fact that she found herself unable to forget his kisses. Though what had happened seemed to have had no effect on him, it had affected her. She had experienced sensations she hadn’t known she was capable of until last night. Could she bear to stay in the same city with him, seeing him each time she came to visit Melanie? Her sudden involvement in Ken’s life was staggering enough. She would be complicating matters a hundredfold if she became attracted to Lance Barrett.
The questions and arguments skipped and played through her mind until she was ready to scream. And still she didn’t know what course of action to take.
Meeting Melanie’s parents convinced her of what she should do.
The couple rang the doorbell late that morning. Lance had not yet come back from across the street so Mike went to answer the door, after checking their identity through the draped living room window.
Erin, who was seated on the couch looking through a magazine, realized that Lance must have watched her before opening the door. She remembered waiting a long time for him to respond to the ringing doorbell.
Mike followed the couple into the living room and grumbled, “I’d better call Lance,” before going to the red telephone and speaking into it. “Does he see them? Okay.” He hung up and then said, “He’ll be right over.”
“We didn’t come to see Mr. Barrett, and I resent not being able to visit my daughter without feeling like I’m being interrogated by that man.”
The woman who had dressed down Mike so harshly was apparently used to getting her own way and never being subjected to anyone else’s will. With a rueful smile Erin thought that indeed Lance would have been a shock to Melanie’s mother.
She was a short woman whose figure necessitated moderation at the canape trays at cocktail parties. Her skin and hair were impeccably maintained. The dress she wore was casual, but Erin knew which designer’s label was inside. Its price wasn’t so casual, unless one were accustomed to having and spending a lot of money, which apparently Mrs. Charlotte Winslow was.
Howard Winslow was as well-groomed and stereotypical as his wife. His graying hair was closely trimmed around a patrician head. Had she not already known his profession, Erin could have guessed it at a glance. His dark blue suit, white shirt, and dark necktie indicated that he must have come straight from the bank of which he was president. His assurance, level steadfast eyes, and authoritative manner would imbue the customers of his bank with confidence and peace of mind that their money was well taken care of.
Erin disliked them intensely and immediately.
Melanie came skipping down the stairs when she heard her mother’s voice and now she flew into the room, breathless and excited.
“Oh honestly, Melanie, I wish you’d let me make a hair appointment for you. That limp, straight hair is disgusting. Just because your husband has pulled this asinine stunt, do you have to let yourself go to seed, too?”
Erin was stunned by Mrs. Winslow’s words. How could a mother speak to her child that way? Especially a child whose whole world had crumbled around her.
“I’m sorry, Mother. I haven’t thought much about my hair lately,” Melanie apologized contritely. “Hello, Father.”
“Hello, Melanie. Has there been any word from Ken?”
“Not directly,” Melanie said mysteriously and grinned at Erin.
“What?” Mrs. Winslow demanded. “Was he found? Did he have all the money with him?”
“No, nothing like that,” Melanie said dispiritedly. Her effervescence of a moment ago had been completely dispelled. “Someone came to see him. Someone very important.” She gestured toward Erin, whom the couple hadn’t deigned to acknowledge, though both of them had seen her when they entered the room.
“Well?” was Mrs. Winslow’s only comment after she had given Erin a thorough inspection with her icy, colorless gray eyes.
“This is Ken’s sister, Miss Erin O’Shea.”
There was a heavy silence as Erin stood up politely to greet Melanie’s parents. They stared at her as if she had been anathematized.
Before she had time to speak, the silence was broken by Lance opening the front door. He really is exceedingly handsome, Erin thought when he came into sight. His hair was still damp from a recent shower; his jaw was almost shiny from having just been shaved smooth. Erin could smell the brisk spiciness of his cologne from where she stood across the room. It was poignantly familiar to her.
At one quick glance he seemed to perceive the situation. Shoving his hands into his pockets in a careless gesture, he sauntered into the room. “Hello, Mrs. Winslow, Mr. Winslow. What are you doing here?”
“I’d think that would be apparent, Barrett,” snapped Howard Winslow. “We haven’t heard a thing out of you for the last few days and I demand to be kept well informed.”
Lance’s hands came out of his pockets slowly and Erin saw that they were balled into tight fists. His body was tense with dislike. Only his face remained passive. When he spoke, she was surprised by the level tone. “In the first place, Mr. Winslow, it isn’t your place to ‘demand’ anything. It’s not your money that’s missing. It belongs to the federal government and the investors in your bank. Secondly, I told you I would keep you apprised of further developments. There have been none.”
“Why not?” Mrs. Winslow flared. “It shouldn’t be that difficult for you and your band of thugs to find one lone criminal.”
“If you’re referring to Mr. Lyman, let me point out to you that he hasn’t been charged with any crime yet. All we know is that he and a large amount of money happen to be missing at the same time. I’d choose my words carefully if I were you, Mrs. Winslow. You never know when they may come back to haunt you.”
Erin could have been knocked over by a feather when she heard what Lance said. Hadn’t he said almost the opposite to her last night? He was defending her brother to these spiteful people and she wanted to embrace him out of gratitude. His disdain for the Winslows was as strong as hers. As he looked over their heads at her, she could see it in the blue eyes.
His voice maintained a level pitch when he said, “I see that you have met Mr. Lyman’s sister.”
Mrs. Winslow snorted, but her husband showed a trifle more courtesy when he said, “We had just been introduced when you came in. Am I to understand that you are a blood relative of Ken’s? We were led to believe he had no family.” The statement was rife with suspicion.
Bloodlines would be important to these snobs, Erin thought, but she said calmly, “Yes, Mr. Winslow, I am Ken’s sister. He and I were adopted by different parents when I was an infant. When I learned of his existence several years ago, I began searching for him. It wasn’t until a few weeks ago that I was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that Ken Lyman is my brother. I presented myself here yesterday to meet him.”
Her eyes involuntarily focused on Lance who was still looking at her. Could anyone else feel the current that seemed to vibrate between them? “I was aghast when I learned from Mr. Barrett what sort of trouble Ken was in.”
“I can’t say that I was aghast when I heard about his thiev—” Mrs. Winslow broke off and darted her eyes fearfully toward Lance. “I wasn’t surprised when he disappeared.” she amended, though with venom. “I never trusted him. Not since the day I first laid eyes on him.”
“Mother, please don’t talk about Ken like that. He’s your son-in-law.” Melanie’s voice was trembling and her bottom lip quivered. Erin resisted an urge to go to her and shield her from her vituperative parents.
“Through no fault of my own,” the woman lashed out. Her eyes narrowed on her daughter and she shook a beringed index finger at her. “I told you you’d rue the day you married him. And I was right. And you’ll go on regretting it for the rest of your life no matter what happens to him now.”
Mr. Winslow also faced his daughter. “It wasn’t only that he was too old for you. We didn’t know anything about his origins, who or what he was descended from. I think his recent actions h
ave proved our point.”
Erin couldn’t believe what she was hearing. How could anyone display such blatant rudeness? Didn’t they realize how insulting to her their words were? She intended to tell them!
She took one belligerent step toward the couple and opened her mouth to scream her protests, but Lance stopped her.
Hurriedly he said, “If you don’t mind, will you please postpone this family discussion until some other time? We have business to conduct. And I’ll not tell you again not to come here. If Mrs. Lyman wants to see you, she can visit you at your residence.”
“Are you telling me to stay away from my own daughter’s home?” Howard Winslow was appalled at the effrontery.
“Yes. I don’t want it to look like a parade around here and scare off anyone who might be trying to contact Mrs. Lyman with information we could use.”
“Well I never—”
Lance ignored Charlotte as if she hadn’t started to speak. “I have the full cooperation of the San Francisco Police Department. If you show up on that front porch again, I’ll call them and have you removed—by force if necessary. Leave. Now.”
His stance and bearing brooked no argument. Mike, who had remained silent and invisible during the entire scene, now seemed to materialize and moved behind the Winslows as though he intended to shepherd them out the door.
Charlotte drew herself up and stared at him with open contempt, threw daggers at Lance with her steely eyes, and then marched through the door. Her husband, equally haughty, followed. The front door was slammed shut with such emphasis that the etched glass window rattled under the impact.
Erin heard Lance mutter an unspeakable obscenity under his breath. Mike stomped out of the room toward the kitchen. Melanie came running to Erin.
“Erin, I’m so sorry. They insulted you and I feel terrible about it. I don’t know what makes them so mean! And the way they talk about Ken, just—just,” she burst into tears and turned to flee upstairs.
Erin cast a look toward Lance, but he didn’t see her. He was sitting behind the desk, leaning on his elbows, his face hidden in his hands. She ran after Melanie.
She found the young woman sprawled across her bed crying like a teen-ager over her first unrequited love. Erin consoled her with words that were somehow supplied to her unconsciously. She was certain nothing she said made any sense, but whatever inanities tumbled out of her mouth seemed to help restore Melanie. She looked up at Erin with wide, disbelieving eyes.
“Did you say that you’ll stay here with me until Ken is found?” She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand.
“If you want me to, Melanie.”
“Oh yes, Erin. I need a friend who understands and shares my concern for him.”
“I’ll stay for as long as you need me.” Her heart turned over when she saw the gladness and relief breaking across Melanie’s tearstained face. “I’ll find a room in a hotel and will only be a telephone call away.”
“No, Erin. I want you to stay here with me. You’re settled into the guest room. Please stay here. Please.”
Erin gnawed her lip as she thought. Staying under this roof would put her in closer and constant contact with Lance, but Melanie’s needs had to take precedence over her avowed avoidance of him. After witnessing how she was treated by her parents, Erin knew more than ever how lost her sister-in-law must feel.
“Okay,” she agreed, trying not to let any of her reluctance show.
Melanie began planning all types of activities for them, but Erin urged her to lie down for a while and relax. Before she left her, Melanie was lying on her bed, breathing evenly, almost asleep.
When she walked in, Lance was alone in the living room. He looked up at her from the paper-strewn desk. For once his glasses were correctly positioned on the bridge of his nose and weren’t clinging to another part of his head like some misplaced appendage.
“Is she all right?” he asked.
Erin moved into the room and collapsed into a chair opposite the desk. “Yes, although it’s a wonder. I learned today that there is more than one form of child abuse. It’s a miracle that Melanie’s not a raving maniac.”
“I agree. We’ve had to spend as much time fighting them and patching up their amateur attempts to do our job as we have spent doing our job.” He almost smiled at his rambling sentence. “I’m going to try to keep them out of her hair as much as possible until this is settled.”
“Good,” Erin replied.
They were quiet for a moment and tried desperately not to look at each other. Erin knew from experience that her face was too expressive for her own good. She wore every emotion on her sleeve for all to see. That was particularly dangerous since Lance was so stoic.
After his eyes had taken several tours of the room, he said, “Tell me when you want to leave and I’ll have Mike make your flight arrangements if you haven’t already done so. I’ll have him escort you to the airport, too.”
“Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Barrett, but I’m not leaving.”
Chapter Six
Her words drummed into his ears and thundered in his head. He rebuked the surge of joy that raced through him. Most of the night and all day long, he had cursed himself for what he had done last night. That had been an incredibly stupid thing to do and he knew it.
He could justify that first kiss—maybe. He was putting a suspect on the spot to see how far she would go with a lie. But last night had been provoked by only one thing—lust.
He had told himself that when he saw her in the light of day, he would wonder why he had been so possessed by her last night. But it hadn’t been that way. The moment he saw her this morning, that same desire had invaded him, constricting his muscles and making him strain against his clothes.
Now as he looked at her, he was drowning in those damn brown eyes, and his blood was running so high he wanted to hurdle across the desk and take her in his arms and kiss her until she was breathless. He wanted to taste her mouth again, to marvel once more at the texture of her skin, to see by light what he had caressed and kissed in darkness.
He wanted to hear again that deep, low purring sound that had come from her throat when he kissed her breasts. It hadn’t been a noise that was rehearsed or conditioned, but rather was spontaneous and unconscious.
This was madness! Whatever happened to his cold impersonality, his enviable objectivity? Love ’em and leave ’em Barrett. His conscience had almost convinced him that one passionate kiss, one sensitive exploration would be enough, but it hadn’t been. Not nearly enough. He wanted her, all of her, with a desperation he hadn’t felt since adolescence. It’s impossible, Barrett! Impossible.
Every time she came unbidden to his mind, he had comforted himself with the fact that she would soon be gone and he could start acting like a rational human being again. Now she was informing him that she wasn’t leaving. Dammit! She had defied him at every turn. What made him think she would go all meek and obedient now?
He sprang out of the chair. “Like hell you aren’t, Miss O’Shea.”
She hadn’t expected this strong a reaction from him at all, and for a moment she could only stare up at him with wide, questioning eyes, her lips parted in surprise. She had no idea how utterly feminine and defenseless she looked.
Then her shock turned to anger and she stood up, leaned over the desk, and met him head on. “I’m not leaving. My sister-in-law needs me. You just admitted as much not two minutes ago. What are your objections to my staying here with her, Mr. Barrett?”
“They are too numerous to name.”
“You haven’t got one valid one,” she accused.
“I don’t need one!” he roared, taking the glasses from his nose and flinging them to the desk top. “If I say you don’t stay, you don’t stay. I meant what I said to the Winslows, and the same goes for you, Miss O’Shea.”
She stood upright and folded her arms across her chest, tilting her chin back in an angle of challenge. “You can threaten me all you want, Mr. B
arrett, but I’m not bullied easily. If you called the police to have me bodily removed, I’d scream bloody murder. What do you think that would do to Melanie’s frame of mind? She’s formed quite an attachment to me. You’d have two hysterical women on your hands. Besides that, I’m Ken’s sister. That automatically gives me the right to be here.”
She had him! She knew she had won by the way he spun around on his heels, jerked at the knot of his necktie, and strode to the window. Wise enough not to press her point, she waited for him to speak.
“If you do anything to jeopardize this operation, you’re out.” He still had his back to her, and when she didn’t respond, he faced her. She nodded.
“Entertain Mrs. Lyman, keep her mind off her missing husband, and stay away from me.”
His arrogant conceit piqued her, but she curbed her sharp tongue. “I intend to,” she said coolly.
“What about Billy Bob or whatever the hell his name is? Won’t he be clamoring for you to go back to Houston?”
It took a supreme effort to control her fury. He knew damned well what Bart’s name was. He never overlooked or forgot anything.
“Bart,” she said bitingly. Then, “Yes, he’ll be worried. I’ll have to call him and my staff and explain that I’ll be here for a while.” She held up both palms when she saw he was about to interrupt. “I won’t tell them why.” She drew a deep breath. “If that’s all, General, I’d like to return to the barracks.”
His lips compressed into a thin line and his glacial eyes were intimidating as he bore down on her with long, angry strides. “This may all seem like a big game to you, Miss O’Shea, but I assure you it’s not. I’ll not tolerate any sass from your smart mouth.”
His eyes went to her lips with the intention of reinforcing his command, but instead, the hard, imperious glare softened to an anguished plea. Erin noticed that his hands were clenching and unclenching at his sides. His eyes moved up from her lips across her nose and cheekbones to her own eyes. She melted under his fervent gaze.
