Forbidden

by Pat Warren

  She waited till his hand was on the knob, then followed him, unable to let him go just like that. Nervously she touched his arm. “Thank you for the flowers and… and everything. I want you to know I do care about you, Richard. And either way we go on this, I’m grateful to you.”

  “There is one thing I’d like to know. This man—is it over between you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because if you agree to marry me, I would expect you to be faithful. I mean, I know you’re not in love with me, but—”

  “I wouldn’t be unfaithful. You have my word.”

  He smiled at that and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Sleep on it and call me when you’ve reached a decision.” And he was gone.

  Liz leaned against the closed door, letting out a ragged sigh. Such a good, kind man. Why couldn’t she have fallen in love with him instead? she asked herself.

  Liz stepped back from the completed bust, angling her head this way and that as she studied it. Definitely it was her best piece yet. Perhaps because the subject matter was so dear to her heart.

  She’d managed to capture the essence of Adam McKenzie, she felt. There was tenacity, self-assurance, and boldness in his face and determination in the firm chin. But there was that hint of gentleness about the eyes that tempered the fierce, almost warrior look. She doubted if strangers would recognize the subject, but his identity was unmistakable in her eyes.

  She went to the kitchen to wash up. She would let the piece dry, then fire it. After it was set she’d put it away where she couldn’t see it, where it wouldn’t haunt her, wouldn’t remind her daily of all that had been hers briefly but would never be again.

  The phone rang just as she finished drying her hands. She caught it on the third ring.

  “Liz? This is Fitz.”

  Surprised, she stretched the phone cord to the living room. “How have you been, Fitz?”

  “Fine, thanks. And yourself?” There was an edge to his voice even he recognized as he listened to her tell him she, too, was fine. For the most part he loved his work, but there were things that Adam asked him to do that rubbed him wrong. He could always refuse, but that wasn’t his nature. “I’m calling for Adam. He’s reserved a suite of rooms for the weekend at the Sheraton and would like you to join him. There’ll be a ticket waiting for you at the airport Friday night. Flight leaves at six. All right?”

  She waited a moment, letting the sharp jolt of the pain pass. “Too busy to call himself, is he?”

  Fitz gave an embarrassed laugh. “Yeah, it’s unbelievable here. Three weeks and it’s back-to-back meetings. Problems at every turn. He told me to apologize for him.” Only silence met his remarks. “He… he really wants to see you, Liz.”

  No. He really wants me in his bed. A nice quiet flight, a clandestine little weekend in a tucked-away hotel, forty-eight hours wrestling in the sheets, and then send the naive little girl back home. No, thank you, Mr. Attorney General. “Please tell Adam that I’m busy this weekend.”

  Surprised, Fitz groped for an answer. “Is anything the matter?”

  Plenty. “Not a thing.”

  “You’re sure you can’t make it?” Adam was going to be pissed.

  “Positive.”

  “All right. Well, take care of yourself, Liz.” Slowly Fitz hung up. There had been something odd in Liz’s voice, a defiant strength he hadn’t heard before. He rose and walked next door to Adam’s office.

  “Okay, Sam,” Adam said into the phone. “Get back to me on this ASAP.” He hung up and looked at his brother’s frowning face. “Something wrong?”

  “I’m not sure.” Fitz took the chair opposite Adam. “I called Liz. She says she’s busy this weekend.”

  He didn’t need this right now. “Did you tell her all the arrangements were made—the airline ticket, the hotel reservation?”

  Fitz nodded. “She said she was positive she couldn’t make it. I asked if there was anything wrong and she told me not a thing.”

  Adam leaned back on his chair. He should have called Liz himself. It probably annoyed her to have Fitz play middleman. If he phoned her now, it would sound like begging. His eyes drifted to a stack of messages needing callbacks alongside a pile of file cases demanding his attention. She simply had no idea how little free time he had, how difficult it had been to clear his calendar and arrange this weekend with her.

  But he’d done it because—damn it all—he wanted to see her. There were times when the need to be with her was so strong, it would keep him awake. He’d reach for the phone, then realize the hour and hang up. Which was just as well. He didn’t want Liz to know just how weak she could make him, even from miles away. His father had been weak. Adam was determined not to follow in those footsteps.

  He looked at Fitz. “Thanks. I’ll call her myself in a day or two.” Fitz seemed as if he wanted to say something more, and Adam waited. But instead his brother got up and left the room without another word.

  Adam stared at the closed door. Fitz didn’t approve of the way he was handling Liz. Tough. He wasn’t the one struggling with a relationship bordering on obsession. Fitz had fallen in love four years ago, and when Sandy Wilkins had betrayed him by getting pregnant by another man, Fitz had turned from her and never spoken her name again. Fitz was stronger than their father was and much stronger than Adam.

  That was another reason he should be pleased that Liz couldn’t make it this weekend. Determined to put her from his mind, he picked up the phone, but before he could dial there was a knock at the door. Diane Cramer walked in. She’d toned down her wardrobe recently, which was a big improvement, Adam thought as he noted her simple blue dress.

  “I’ve got all the data on the Carlisle case for you. And I discovered something surprising.” She moved closer to his desk, her expression pleased.

  Adam hadn’t been crazy about taking Diane along to Sacramento as one of his aides, but Fitz had talked him into it, saying the woman was really valuable, that she worked tirelessly and was politically savvy. He had to agree she was doing well.

  “What’d you learn?” he asked.

  “Only that George Carlisle hasn’t filed his taxes in four years.” Diane’s smile was smug. This was the second time she’d found a flaw in a defendant.

  “You’re kidding! I can’t believe he’s that stupid.” He touched his forehead with two fingers in a salute to her. “My hat’s off to you, Diane. That’s just the sort of thing we needed to gain his full cooperation. Type it up for me, will you?” Remembering the hour, he glanced at his watch. “Oh, wait. It’s late. You can give it to one of the secretaries tomorrow.”

  “I don’t mind staying late.” Adam’s smile of approval was worth the extra hours she’d been putting in. Diane was the only female aide now, which made her a fairly powerful woman, one men were beginning to respect. And finally Adam was beginning to notice her work. Soon it would be time for her to get him to notice Diane the woman.

  “Well, if you’re sure I’m not interfering with your plans for the evening?”

  What plans? she thought, still wearing her smile. “Not at all.” Quietly she left his office.

  Adam again picked up the phone, his mind already on his next call.

  In her San Diego apartment, Liz replaced the receiver after Fitz’s call, feeling a rush of sadness wash over her. She couldn’t really blame Adam. From the start he’d been up front with her. He’d said he had no intention of getting seriously involved. It had been she who’d set aside the rules and fallen in love with him. She’d known better, known his career, his ambition, came first.

  Now she was paying the price.

  She stared for long minutes at the piece she’d sculpted of Adam McKenzie. She would discipline herself not to think of him any longer. She had a child growing inside her, and her first concern must be what would be best for that child. Sometimes the best thing—the only thing—to do was to let go.

  Slowly she picked up the phone and dialed Richard’s number.

  The Townsend
house in La Jolla was perfect for a wedding. Situated high on a bluff overlooking the Pacific. it had bricked terraces, banks and banks of windows, and stone steps leading down to the sea. For privacy it was enclosed on three sides by high stucco fencing. Inside, it was beautiful, with Italian marble floors, hand-carved balustrades, and a dining room that could seat thirty comfortably: exactly the number it was set for on this Christmas Eve.

  Molly walked to the top of the winding staircase and peeked down. Red poinsettias and evergreen roping along with a spectacular Christmas tree vied with white-and-gold wedding decorations. People were milling about, the pianist was playing softly, and through the archway she could see an obviously anxious Richard adjusting his bow tie. Everyone, it seemed, looked happy and smiling. Too bad the bride wasn’t. She hurried back to Liz.

  “You sure you want to go through with this?” Molly asked as she closed the bedroom door quietly behind her.

  “We’ll be just fine.” Liz pushed a final pin into her hair to hold the short veil in place, her eyes on her mirrored reflection. The woman staring back at her with the too bright eyes was a shade too thin and much too pale, and she had an indefinably sad look about the mouth. Liz tried a smile, but it didn’t help much. No matter. It would have to do.

  Her mother hadn’t been pleased about this rush-rush wedding. Katherine had point-blank asked Liz if she’d been sleeping with Richard. Liz had almost smiled as she’d been able to quite honestly say she hadn’t. She’d mumbled vaguely that rushing had been Richard’s idea, that he simply didn’t want to wait another month after she’d agreed to marry him. Katherine’s expression clearly revealed that she knew there was more to the story, but she’d not questioned Liz further.

  She was only two months pregnant and not showing at all yet. One day soon she’d tell her mother the truth, but not when she’d scarcely become accustomed to the reality of the baby herself. Besides, the fact that premature babies ran in their family should keep the relatives from too much conjecturing.

  Because of the limited timetable, Katherine had had no choice but to keep the guest list to a minimum, a restriction that annoyed her greatly. However, in the end she’d acquiesced graciously, and now here they all were.

  “Why are you doing this?” Molly asked. “I know you don’t love him.”

  With a sigh, Liz turned to face her friend. “We’ve been over this. He loves me. I like and respect him. It’s the right thing to do. Please, can we drop it?” She didn’t want to cry, not today. For Richard’s sake.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just that I want you to be happy, and… and I wish you’d have talked with Adam.”

  She hadn’t told Molly. Her friend had guessed. Liz lowered her voice even though the door was closed. “Would you want to spend your life with a man who felt trapped? Believe me, it’s better this way.” Her voice sounded strong, almost as if she believed it herself.

  Without preamble the door swung open and Nancy teetered in, a glass half filled with champagne in her hand, revealing no visible signs of her recent auto accident. “Well, well, big sister. Aren’t you a vision?”

  They hadn’t known until she’d shown up if Nancy would attend. You could never tell about Nancy. Liz couldn’t help wondering if her sister was hurt that she’d asked Molly to be her maid of honor. It hadn’t been an intentional slight, but rather a heartfelt choice. Molly had always been in her corner.

  “You look nice,” Liz told her sister, hoping she sounded sincere. Nancy wasn’t a natural beauty, but she was slender, with large breasts that had been turning men’s heads since she’d turned twelve. She wore a red knit dress that clung to every curve, half a dozen jangling gold bracelets, and dark eye makeup that had been applied with a heavy hand. The overall effect came across more garish than stylish. Still, Liz thought that Nancy looked better than she’d expected, considering several years of heavy drinking.

  Nancy took a long swallow of champagne. “Sure is different from my wedding day. Mom was too shocked to talk to me, and dear old Daddy wouldn’t even meet us at the JP’s and give me away. Not that I wanted him there.”

  The last thing Liz wanted to do was start in on the past. Putting on another fake smile, she looked pointedly at her watch. “The bridal march should be starting any minute.”

  “I’m going,” Nancy said, not too far gone to get the hint. “Good luck, sis. Not that you’ll need it. You always were the charmed one.” She glanced around the room slowly, as if troubled memories lurked in every corner. “You should thank your lucky stars you’ll be free of this place.” Quickly she drained her glass and left the room.

  “What did she mean by that?” Molly asked.

  “I wouldn’t know. But then, I often don’t know what’s behind Nancy’s cryptic statements.” With a final glance in the mirror, she swung around. “How do I look?”

  Molly grew serious, blinking back tears. They’d been best friends forever, it seemed. She fervently wished she felt good about this marriage. “Beautiful, as always. I hope you’ll be happy, Liz. I just wish…”

  Liz grabbed her hands, blinking rapidly as well. “Don’t start, please.”

  Pressing her lips together, Molly nodded. They heard the music begin. She pulled her friend close for a long, tremulous hug, then put on the brightest smile she could muster. “Here we go, kid.”

  Swallowing her tears, Liz smiled back. “Lead the way.”

  It wasn’t working. Adam swung his leather swivel chair around and gazed out at a late January sun sinking behind the State Capitol Building. In the next room, Fitz, Jesse, and Diane were hammering out the final points of a case he was to try in front of the state supreme court next week. He was supposed to be gathering his notes. But he couldn’t concentrate, something that had plagued him the last several weeks. Finally he’d admitted to himself the reason why.

  Liz Townsend.

  He tossed aside the Mont Blanc pen he’d been toying with and, frustrated, ran a hand through his hair. Here he was working hard at a job he truly loved, the job he’d set his sights on. And he’d discovered that he was good at it, at zeroing in on the ethical approach to the state’s cases, although not necessarily the politically correct method. He was managing in this short time to get the job done, keeping the reigning powers happy, and keep his opponents at bay. He felt an early, hesitant sense of accomplishment.

  Yet something was missing.

  Difficult as it was to admit, that something was Liz, and the joy she’d brought him. He’d thought he could set aside his feelings for her, get thoroughly engrossed, wait to develop things further. But he couldn’t get her off his mind. Finally he’d come to the only possible conclusion: He loved her.

  She’d brought him a special pleasure that no one else ever had. Not just in bed, but during all the many hours they’d talked, sharing their thoughts, their feelings about the future. She was intelligent, quick, talented, and beautiful. It was mostly her beauty that had frightened him, his need for her giving her too much power over him; but the recent realization that he loved her had erased his fear. He’d been a fool to think he could put a woman like her on ice while he went about securing his career. He’d have to remedy the situation immediately.

  He swiveled about, picked up the phone, and dialed her apartment. In a moment the recording came on, explaining that the number had been disconnected. Puzzled, he replaced the receiver.

  Had she moved back home with her folks? Doubtful, for she’d wanted to break away from their possessiveness. Maybe she’d moved in with her friend Molly. Fitz kept in touch with some of the volunteers down San Diego way. He called his brother in.

  “I’ve been trying to reach Liz, but her apartment number’s disconnected. Do you know if she’s moved in with Molly or where she might be?”

  Fitz slowly rearranged his baseball hat as he dropped onto the chair across the desk from Adam. He’d been both dreading this moment and wishing it were over. “Yeah, I know where she is. Pacific Beach.”

  Adam frowned. “What�
��s she doing there?”

  “Setting up housekeeping. She got married, Adam. On Christmas Eve. To Richard Fairchild. I saw it in the San Diego paper a couple of weeks ago. I didn’t tell you because… well, what was the point? You weren’t seeing her anymore.”

  Stunned, Adam sat down. Married? How could Liz be married? He could scarcely believe his ears. As close as they’d been for all those months, she’d gotten married to someone else almost as soon as he’d left town. He’d told her he’d send for her as soon as he could. He’d invited her up for a weekend, and she’d turned him down. Now he knew why.

  Richard Fairchild. He remembered meeting him. Short, thinning hair, overeager. Like a damn puppy. Old enough to be her father. She’d once told him that she was content to remain friends with Richard. What had changed her mind and sent her running into his waiting arms? What could Fairchild give her that Adam couldn’t?

  “I knew you’d be upset,” Fitz went on, watching Adam’s face, noting the scowl.

  Adam straightened, scooting his chair closer to the desk. “Upset? Hell, no. If she wants to marry that wimp, let her.” He directed his stormy gaze out the window, wishing it didn’t hurt so damn much.

  Her marriage had surprised Fitz, too. Watching her with Adam, he’d been certain she cared for no one else. Of course, he hadn’t known a lot about women, but Liz had struck him as a one-man woman. “Maybe it’s for the best,” he offered lamely.

  “Damn right it is. She almost got me off track, almost had me walking away from my obligations, all the people depending on me.” His voice grew soft, low. “Like with Dad. I had a real weakness for Liz.”

  “It’s no sin to fall in love,” Fitz said quietly. No sin, but it surely could take the wind out of a man’s sails if things didn’t work out. He ought to know. It had happened to him.

  “Love? You call it love when a man leaves for a few weeks and his woman turns around and marries the first handy guy? If that’s love, you can keep it.”

  His woman? Fitz could only imagine what Liz would say to that. “I’m no expert, but Liz seemed like a good person to me.”