Forbidden

by Pat Warren

  She wasn’t there.

  He found Fitz at a desk in a back office. After an oral report on his swing of northern cities, Adam tried a casual inquiry. “By the way,” he began, placing a hip on the edge of Fitz’s cluttered desk, “I don’t see Liz Townsend.”

  Fitz was riffling through a stack of letters. “No, she couldn’t make it.”

  “Oh? Any particular reason?”

  Slowly Fitz straightened, then readjusted his baseball hat as he studied his brother through his glasses. “She had another commitment.”

  It would make Fitz even more suspicious if he persisted. Adam picked up a letter and pretended that it absorbed his attention. A few moments later he slipped off across the hall and found a vacant office with desk and phone. He got her number from information and called. The answering machine said she wasn’t in, but he didn’t leave a message. Hanging up, he frowned at the phone.

  What to do? Probably he should let it go. He twisted around on the plastic chair and stared at the overhead fan. He didn’t want to let it go. It was a long shot, but he took a chance.

  Katherine Townsend was formally friendly on the phone, obviously surprised to hear from him. With no small effort he got her to reveal that Liz was at a downtown San Diego little theater group, working with underprivileged children who were rehearsing a play. Feeling every inch the fool, he scribbled down the address, thanked Liz’s mother, and hung up.

  He checked his watch. Four. The drive to San Diego would take too long. Restlessly he drummed his fingers on the desktop. He didn’t have another engagement for three days. He’d been planning to drive down tomorrow, take a day or two off, then work in the San Diego office.

  Now he had a better plan. He picked up the phone and made another call.

  Minutes later he went to find Fitz in his office. “Listen, something’s come up. Would you mind driving the Datsun when you go back home tomorrow?” He held out the keys. “I need to be in San Diego tonight.”

  Fitz frowned. “How are you going to manage that?’

  “I’m going to fly down.”

  Fitz’s frown deepened. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with Liz, would it?” He saw the truth on his brother’s face. “I’m not sure this is wise, Adam.”

  Adam grinned. “You worry too much, little brother. I’ll check with you tomorrow.”

  Fitz watched him go whistling out the door. Like father, like son, he thought sadly.

  “It’s all right, Annie. Everyone forgets her lines once in a while. Just go back out there and try again.” Liz smoothed the ten-year-old girl’s hair and gave her an encouraging smile. “I know you’ll do fine this time.”

  Thrusting her hands into her jeans pockets, Liz watched Annie walk slowly back out, wishing her success as the volunteer director lined up the children to repeat the scene. It was so hard for these kids. Seldom did they have someone at home who supported their efforts. Usually they had one or more parents heavily into alcohol or drugs. Never enough money for nice clothes, for good food, their living conditions often shocking.

  Annie was small for her age, most likely from neglect and lack of early nutrition, and she stuttered much of the time; but out on the stage she seemed to forget herself and talk slowly, clearly. Listening, Liz heard the child speak her line perfectly and found herself applauding spontaneously. Annie turned and sent her a proud little smile. Liz gave her a thumbs-up signal in return.

  “Someone to see you, Liz,” Todd, the man in charge of set decoration, said from behind her.

  Turning, Liz blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dimness after the bright stage lights. Adam was standing near the stage door, wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and navy slacks, the same as the day she’d first seen him. Surprised, she walked toward him.

  His face looked tired, and he wasn’t smiling. His eyes seemed to drink her in as they skimmed over her, then met her own serious gaze. She’d thought of him far too often over the past couple of weeks and wished she could stop. All he had to do was walk into a room and she was suddenly on shaky ground. Her heart was thumping now as she stopped a foot from him.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked softly. “I thought you were in San Francisco tonight.”

  “I was. But you weren’t there. I tried to get a flight out, but it’s Friday night and everything was booked solid. I chartered a small plane.” His voice was low and even, yet the pulse in his neck was pounding. He could feel energy exuding from her, excitement simmering. He couldn’t help wondering how it would feel to be alone with her when she released that energy fully.

  Nervous anticipation skittered along Liz’s spine. “You must have an early morning appointment here.” She watched him slowly shake his head. “You chartered a plane to be with me?” Surely not. Surely it was a business decision.

  “Yes. Just to be with you. I can’t seem to stop wanting to be with you.” A hard admission to make, to himself, to her.

  In his eyes she read all the unspoken things neither of them seemed willing to say aloud. Wordlessly she stepped into his arms. In the shadowed corner, her mouth sought his.

  Enrico’s was a hole-in-the-wall, a small Italian restaurant tucked into a strip mall several blocks from Adam’s apartment, but he swore it had the best pasta in town. Seated at a corner table, Liz stared out the window at a light rain while Adam ordered for them.

  She wasn’t hungry, wasn’t sure she could eat. She was trying desperately not to be charmed by him but was rapidly losing the battle. He’d chartered a plane to be with her. Unbelievable.

  It was something her father might have done. Joseph Townsend was a puzzling mixture of cold businessman and warm romantic; the dichotomy often threw even his own family off balance. Though Katherine loved him deeply, she’d often warned Liz to stay away from men like her father. And here she was across the table from one.

  Exactly where she wanted to be.

  The waiter poured the wine and left. Adam reached for her hand. “You’re awfully quiet. Sorry I interrupted your evening?”

  “No.” She groped for a subject, any subject other than the one foremost on her mind. “You look beat. Is the traveling getting to you?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing a little vacation wouldn’t cure. I’d like to go away for a week, someplace quiet, with no phones and no neighbors.”

  Liz nodded. “I know that feeling. My family owns a cabin in northern California, up a mountain, very remote. There’s a stream nearby, and all kinds of animals wander along. Near Grass Valley. I used to drive up there to study for exams, or just to be alone.”

  He smiled. “Exactly the kind of place I mean. I’d love a cabin in the woods. Do you go there often?” He picked up his wineglass and tasted the rich Bordeaux, let it linger on his tongue.

  She shrugged. “Not much anymore. Dad goes frequently with his friends. There’s hunting and fishing. Mom hates the place, and my sister refuses to go.”

  “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

  She let out a sigh. “Nancy. She’s two years younger than me.”

  “Maybe we can match her up with Fitz.”

  If only Fitz could forget Sandy Wilkins, Adam thought, and let himself get interested in another woman. He’d warned his brother that Sandy seemed too flighty, too selfish. Fitz hadn’t welcomed the advice any more than he himself would have. A man had to make up his own mind about the women in his life.

  Liz smiled at the thought of his serious brother with her wild sister. “Nancy’s kind of a free spirit, a nonconformist. She left home at seventeen, got married, then divorced. She’s lived all over, currently in Colorado.” She didn’t mention the frantic calls, the arrests for drug possession, the distress she’d caused her parents. “My folks worry about her all the time.”

  He read between the lines. “But you don’t give them anything to worry about, do you?”

  She brought her chin up a fraction. “I try not to.”

  He decided to probe a little more. “After the election, wha
t do you plan to do, if you don’t go to law school? Concentrate on your sculpting? Or have you been bitten by the political bug?”

  She smiled. “No, not politics. It’s too all-consuming. My father is still after me to go into law, but…”

  “But that doesn’t interest you.” He saw her shake her head and wondered if she’d be strong enough to stand firm against her father. Though Adam respected Joseph, he was also aware the man was determined and unbending. “Does your mother have a career?” Katherine Townsend kept a low profile. Other than her charities, he’d not heard much about her.

  “Not anymore. She was training to be a concert pianist when she met my father.”

  “And she gave it up to marry him.”

  He made it sound like more of a sacrifice than her mother ever had. “Women did back when my mother was young. She came from a wealthy background. He didn’t. My father had this need to excel, to do better than my grandfather had.”

  Adam was beginning to see the parallel between Joseph Townsend and himself and wondered if Liz did, too. “And did he?”

  “Probably.” She wasn’t sure what her father’s holdings were, but they were impressive. And she wasn’t sure why she’d discussed her family so openly with him when she knew very little about his. It was time to change the focus of the conversation. “Does Fitz have someone special in his life?” She’d never seen his brother with anyone.

  Adam traced his thumb along her wrist and felt her pulse skitter as he decided to keep Fitz’s past private. “Nah, he’s a workaholic. No time to develop a relationship.”

  He’d handed her an opening she couldn’t ignore. “Like you.”

  He raised his eyes to hers. “Yes, like me. Workaholics probably shouldn’t think seriously about settling down until they’re well established. I readily admit I’m not looking for anything permanent at this point in my life. Too much is up in the air. But that doesn’t rule out a relationship.” If we could just keep it from getting too significant. “Have you had many relationships?”

  She refused to let him think her inexperienced. In truth, she wasn’t, but even Ed Steele, the man she’d dated most at Stanford, hadn’t lasted long. “A few.”

  He managed to keep from smiling. Twenty-one was so young. Seven years separated them, yet he felt aeons older. His growing up was so different from her protected way of life, it set them worlds apart. Why, then, when his practical side knew all that, couldn’t he keep her out of his thoughts?

  The waiter appeared with crisp Caesar salads, crunchy rolls, and plates of steaming spaghetti bolognese. Liz picked at her food and sipped the red wine she didn’t want. She shouldn’t have come. Her emotions were in turmoil. Yet how could she have refused him after all the trouble he’d gone to?

  “I didn’t see Molly in San Francisco, either,” Adam commented as he buttered a roll.

  “She’s finishing up a couple of paintings that are going on exhibit next month. She may have a one-woman showing at that art gallery where we bumped into each other recently. Molly’s very serious about her art.” And what about you, Liz Townsend? she asked herself. What are you serious about?

  She was nervous, withdrawing. He tried again. “Do you know that blonde in the office, Diane Cramer, very well?”

  Why was he asking her about all these women? Why didn’t he ask his brother? “No, not very.” You didn’t have to know Diane Cramer well to know exactly what she was. And what she’d seen of her, Liz hadn’t particularly liked. But it wasn’t her place to say.

  Adam watched her set down her fork and gaze out into the rainy evening. “You don’t like Italian food?”

  She swung her eyes back, not wanting to hurt his feelings, uncertain of her own. “I love it. I’m just not especially hungry.”

  “Neither am I. I want to be alone with you.” He watched her eyes widen, but she didn’t say a word. “Let’s get out of here.” He signaled the waiter. In minutes they were in the parking lot, dashing through the raindrops toward her car. “I’ll drive,” he said, taking her keys from her hand. He’d taken a cab from the airport to the little theater, and they’d driven to Enrico’s in her Mercedes.

  It was a silent five-minute ride to his apartment building, the only sound from the rain drumming on the canvas top. Adam parked in the circular drive out front and hurriedly ushered her into the elevator. The moment the doors closed, he pulled her to him and took her mouth in a stunning kiss.

  Dazed, Liz finally opened her eyes. “I think I’m making a mistake here.”

  He kissed her again, openmouthed, stealing her breath away.

  Her hands against his chest were trembling. “I know I’m making a mistake.”

  Nerves. His were jumpy, too. Inside his apartment he turned a lamp on low and punched in a tape. The pulsing sound of classical guitars thrummed in the background. He looked up to see her still standing hesitantly by the door. “Would you like some wine?”

  “I don’t think so.” The calico kitten hurried over, and Liz welcomed the diversion as she bent to pick her up. “I see you’ve got a roommate.”

  “I can’t seem to find anyone who claims her.”

  “Does she have a name?”

  “Rosie.” He walked to her and stroked the kitten’s sleek back as she purred in Liz’s arms. “When Fitz and I were growing up, we had a series of cats, and we always named them Rosie. My father greatly admired Franklin Roosevelt and insisted on the name, male or female. One ran away, another got hit by a car. We just kept getting more.”

  Liz put down the kitten and stepped into the living room. She walked over to the wall of windows and stood looking out, imagining the rain pelting into the sea beyond. The elements of nature, fiercely beautiful, at once wild and wonderful, impossible to contain.

  Like her need for this man, Liz thought, turning to Adam, who’d followed her over.

  He stepped close enough to smell the rain in her hair yet didn’t touch her. He felt a trace of annoyance that she could tie him in such knots and a hint of frustration that he couldn’t overcome his irrational desire for her. No one had ever shattered his control like this, yet she was unaware of the power she held in her soft hands. Was this what it had been like for his father, another man who’d been trapped by a savage need that wouldn’t let him be?

  Adam lowered his head to kiss her, determined to have her, to get her out of his system once and for all. It had always been like that for him, to conquer one thing and move on to the next. She wrapped her arms around him, and the reckless assault on his senses had him reeling.

  He backed her to the wall and bent his head to taste the sweet flesh in the V opening of her blouse. His hands slipped behind and beneath the soft cotton to caress the silken skin of her back. He felt her tremble and was surprised at how much pleasure her reaction gave him.

  But Liz was fighting an internal battle. She wanted desperately to give in to her need for Adam, yet if she did, she felt she’d be taking her first step down a rocky road. Pulling free, she stepped back. “I can’t do this, Adam.” He was the wrong man to want. Despite his romantic gesture tonight, his ambition would forever take precedence over his feelings for her.

  He dropped his hands, turned aside. “All right. I told you, no seduction unless we both want the same thing.”

  She stared at him, feeling torn, feeling frightened. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Then, before the tears could fall, she hurried out, closing the door behind her.

  At the window he watched lightning split the night sky. He felt like hitting something hard. He’d let her go without a fight, which wasn’t like him. He, who had persuaded many a hostile jury to his side. Jamming his hands into his pants pockets, he asked himself why.

  She wanted him. He was certain of it. He was bordering on obsession with her, yet to let her go was unthinkable. To hell with his own rules. He couldn’t lose her.

  Adam raced for the elevator and prayed on the ride down that he’d be able to find a cab in this downpour. Rushing outside, he headed fo
r the street, then stopped. Her Mercedes was still parked where he’d left it. A low-hanging fog had moved in. Shielding his eyes against the rain, he peered around.

  She stepped out from alongside a jacaranda tree, her hair plastered to her head, her blouse and jeans drenched. Slowly he walked over to her. In the pale light from the lampposts on the entryway, he saw the confusion in her dark eyes.

  “I tried to walk away from you,” she finally managed. “I tried so hard.”

  “I tried to let you.”

  “You’re all wrong for me.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “I’ve struggled with my feelings since the first day I met you, Adam.”

  Adam remembered her story of Nancy. The bad sister and the good sister. The one who disappointed her parents and the one who never did. The wild one and the repressed one. Rain dripped down his face, beneath his collar. He ignored the discomfort. “Life’s a crapshoot, Liz. There are no guarantees. I wish I had more answers, but I don’t. Tell me what you want.”

  There was a roaring in her ears. She was nearly overwhelmed with her need for this man. She ached with it, throbbed with it. What did she want? “You,” she answered, her voice husky. “I want you.”

  If only she knew how completely she already had him, Adam thought. For that split second of hesitation, he’d been ready to go down on his knees to her, to beg. Slipping a hand beneath her knees, he gathered her into his arms and carried her back to his apartment and into his bedroom.

  Aroused beyond belief, Adam knew this first time there’d be few preliminaries. He paused only long enough to turn on the lamp on his bedside table and to grab a towel for each of them. Liz dried her hair while he mopped his face.

  There was no time to be nervous, and Liz was grateful. With fingers made clumsy by haste, he pulled her sodden blouse from her as she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. All the while, his mouth skimmed her cheeks, her chin, settling on her lips. Their clothes hit the hardwood floor with a wet plop. When her hands unfastened his belt buckle and moved to touch his zipper, he stopped her by easing her onto the heavy navy quilt covering his four-poster bed. In the soft lamplight she watched him hurriedly yank off the rest of his clothes, then follow her down.