Spring Fires

by Unknown

  Drew's deep voice pierced her brooding. "I'm glad you finally conceded."

  Stacy was ready to erupt with an angry retort, but forced herself to say rationally, "I refuse to continue with a senseless argument. As you said, it's a big waste of time."

  Drew tilted back his blond head and laughed heartily. He glanced over to her and said with a chuckle, "Typical. Women always want the last word." His eyes returned to the road; his expression sobered. "Calm your ruffled feathers, Stacy. I don't intend to hold you to that announcement, so you need not jump on everything I say. Until we can end it gracefully, we'll carry on with the pretense. Which means, my dear girl," he said, piercing her with his dark blue eyes, "that we must act like friends."

  Uncertain of his meaning, Stacy twisted around to stare at him and instantly felt the powerful impact of his masculinity. She suppressed the sensual impressions his nearness evoked and queried, "What do you mean?"

  He answered blandly, "When we are out in public, we should present a united front and not bicker."

  She conceded his point, but then asked, "What motivated you to make such a preposterous announcement?"

  Drew slanted a glance at her flushed countenance. "I had my reasons."

  "Please enlighten me!"

  "All in good time."

  Stacy fumed while Drew negotiated a rough patch in the road. Then, as his attention eased, he said drily, "Would you rather I let your father and Paul think the worst…? When they walked in, you did not appear to be resisting."

  She turned back to the window and tried to hide the flush his words created. "Thanks for reminding me."

  "Sorry, that was a cheap shot. But hasn't it penetrated that pretty little head of yours what you'd be exposed to without an adequate explanation for our behavior?" He continued derisively, "I'm sure Paul is a fine, upstanding young man, but even he might get the wrong idea, and your position in a camp of lonely males would have become untenable."

  Reluctantly, she acknowledged, "I guess you're right," her voice barely above a whisper. In the past she had easily handled Paul's advances, and the other men had a "hands off" policy toward the boss's daughter. But that might all have changed if the word had spread that she was available.

  It rankled deeply for Drew to be so accurate in his assessment, but there was still one facet that they had not touched upon.

  "You saw how Dad took the news." She said tersely, "He's delighted. My father's been thinking for quite some time that I should marry and have a life of my own."

  Not without sympathy, Drew responded, "I haven't known Bob long, but I respect the man. I don't relish deceiving him, but in the long run it's better this way. Later, when we're both back in Houston, we can break it off quietly." He paused and then continued: "The only real problem is if it spoils a budding romance for you."

  Lost in thought, Stacy did not respond.

  "What about Paul Elmwood?"

  Bewildered, Stacy shot him a glance. "What about him?"

  "Don't be naive. My announcement upset Paul."

  "Really?" Stacy said faintly.

  "Yes, really," Drew mimicked mockingly. In his normal voice he continued: "Now you're being obtuse. Is Paul important to you?"

  "No!" she denied vehemently. "He is just an old friend." In a more even tone she added, "I've always thought of Paul as… well, as a big brother."

  "Poor 'old' Paul," Drew returned with a hint of sarcasm. "Is that what he thinks? I detected more than 'brotherly' concern."

  Stacy bristled at his tone and retorted defensively, "That's your impression, and if you are right, then this will just help Paul realize that I don't reciprocate his feelings. Hopefully, he'll begin to look elsewhere."

  "Well, then, that's an added benefit."

  She marveled at the callousness of his voice, but then wondered how he profited by their pseudo-engagement. "What do you get out of all this?"

  Drew responded with a light laugh. "You are underrating your charming company."

  "Oh, come on, Drew. You don't seem to be the type to lack female 'companionship.' Besides, I'd say that you always have a good reason for everything you do," Stacy returned, unimpressed by his blarney.

  Noting her mien with a discerning glance, he admitted, "You're right."

  "I am?"

  Drew ignored her interruption and continued: "My current… lady friend has become rather demanding, and this mock engagement will allow me some breathing room."

  Stunned by his offhanded explanation, Stacy felt unaccountably hurt. She was appalled by his deliberate ruthlessness, but at the same instant she perceived that she was guilty of the same reasoning. Chagrined, she realized ruefully that to denounce his motives was like the pot calling the kettle black. Instead, she taunted, "I'm surprised that a man of your 'experience' should need such a ruse."

  "I just use the opportunities that present themselves."

  Just how smug can you get! Stacy silently berated him.

  By the time they reached the landing field, Stacy's temper had slowly cooled, and now she was reluctantly aware that she would miss this man who had so abruptly entered her life.

  With a flick of his wrist, Drew turned off the engine. Leaning one arm on the steering wheel, he glanced at Stacy's despondent figure. "I'll call you next week when you're back in Houston, and we can set up our first 'date.' Our engagement should appear normal to the world."

  "Okay," she answered dispiritedly, overwhelmed by the magnitude of their lies.

  He sensed her depression and added comfortingly, "Don't worry. Everything will work itself out." Drew looked through the windshield to the west, noticing the clouds building up near the horizon. The wind had picked up and he could smell the approaching storm. Undaunted, he said casually, "I should make it back to Houston ahead of the rain."

  "Isn't it dangerous to fly such a light plane in this kind of weather?" Stacy lifted her head to view the darkening sky.

  "Possibly, if I had left any later." He leaned forward and firmly pressed a kiss on her soft, appealing mouth. It was over in an instant, but it left a warm impression on her tingling lips, which spread treacherously throughout her body.

  Mentally chiding herself for responding to his practiced charm, Stacy watched anxiously as Drew strode over to the twin-engine plane. With a wave of his hand, he climbed into the cabin. Within minutes he had maneuvered the aircraft for takeoff. The engines revved up with a deafening roar and the light airplane moved forward with ever-increasing speed until it soared upward, flattening the coarse grass with its force.

  The strident ringing of the telephone brought Stacy back to the present. She picked up the extension phone on the nightstand and sat down on the bed. "Hello."

  "Hi, Stacy. How you doing?"

  Stacy immediately recognized Drew's deep voice. "Just fine." She rushed on. "Dad and I got home last night."

  "I know. I spoke with your father this morning."

  "You did?"

  "Yes. We had some business to discuss, and I've been asked to bring you to a party this evening."

  "Tonight?"

  "Yes. Mrs. Woodward asked that you both join us. She assures me that you are welcome. You'd have had a personal invitation had she known you'd be back in town. "The voice continued drolly, "She had word of our engagement."

  Stacy took a deep breath. "How did she hear about it?"

  " 'Bout what?"

  She did not hide her annoyance when she said, "The engagement, of course!"

  "Good news travels fast. This is a good chance for us to be seen together."

  Hesitating for a moment, Stacy wished that this charade had never begun. She hated deceiving so many people; everything was snowballing at an enormous rate. Soon all of their friends would know of the engagement, if they hadn't gossiped about it already. She had hoped to get through it quietly, but now she envisioned many complications. Well, she decided philosophically, the sooner it's begun, the quicker her life could return to normal. Unfortunately, that did little to comfort her.


  "Can you be ready by six-thirty?" Drew's voice intruded.

  "Yes, I can," she said briskly.

  "This is just a cocktail party, so we'll have dinner afterwards."

  "You need not go to the trouble."

  "My pleasure." Then he added with a trace of amusement, "Don't you think your father would consider it strange if I brought you home at eight-thirty?"

  Chagrined by her oversight, she admitted reluctantly, "Yes, of course."

  "See you later, then. Bye."

  "Bye, Drew." As she replaced the receiver she was startled by the tremor in her hand. Even over the phone his forceful personality is affecting me! Forcing these traitorous thoughts from her mind, she turned her attention to her closet. She vacillated over her choice and femininely decided to buy a new dress for the party.

  Eager to go shopping, Stacy checked her appearance. Her hair was freshly washed and hung in loose curls around her shoulders, sunlight glistening on its burnished copper highlights. She added a stroke of lipstick and powdered her nose. Satisfied with the reflection in the dressing table's mirror, she tucked her wallet and keys into her saddle-brown handbag. She decided not to change the light wool pantsuit woven in a plaid of chocolate brown, beige, and gold with a matching silky gold blouse.

  After leaving a note for her father, Stacy conscientiously locked the apartment door and scampered lightly down the steps to the sidewalk and headed for the Galeria, just two blocks away. She enjoyed the convenience of living so close to Houston's largest shopping mall. Most people overlooked this quiet little street. Both sides of the road were lined with apartment buildings. Grass, shrubs, and trees—live oak and mesquite—added to the charming atmosphere. Before crossing the main thoroughfare to the Galeria, Stacy passed the building on the corner in which Bob Davidson had his office.

  She walked straight to Neiman-Marcus and took the escalator to the second-floor designer department. There she found the perfect dress: a silk organza dyed in swirls of coral, russet, and flaming red.

  Ecstatic over her shopping success, Stacy slowly strolled along past the shops. She did not have nearly enough time to investigate even a small fraction of the stores lining the Galeria's three levels. But, as always, she paused by the railing to watch the figure skaters glide across the ice rink built in the ground level.

  Conscious of her growing hunger, she moved on, but her eye was caught by a familiar figure gazing at a window display.

  "Katie Goodwin! How good to see you!" Stacy's face lit up as she approached her childhood friend. "I thought you were working in Austin."

  The other girl, on hearing her name, had turned in surprise and quickly smiled as she recognized Stacy. "Stacy, it's been too long." The girls exchanged a brief, joyful hug. Katie was several inches shorter than Stacy's five feet, six inches, and just as slim. Short, blonde curls emphasized the elfin features of her face, her turned-up nose, and dancing blue eyes.

  The girls chatted for a few minutes before Stacy suggested they have lunch together. Katie instantly agreed and several minutes later they were seated beneath a brightly colored umbrella of a restaurant whose motif had the effect of a sidewalk cafe. After the girls ordered chef's salads, they continued their conversation.

  During a brief lull, Stacy asked, "So tell me, what are you doing in Houston?" Before Katie could answer, she teased, "You aren't getting married, are you?"

  Katie shook her head and laughed lightly. "Will you be serious? I'm a working girl! I quit the job in the law office last week. Since my father died last year, Mother has been all alone, so I decided to move back home." The color had left her face, belying the calm tone of her voice.

  Stacy, sensitive to her friend's grief, quickly offered her sympathy and unsubtly changed the subject by saying, "Have you found a new job?"

  "Not yet. I've been back only a few days."

  "Katie, why don't you apply for a job with the company where Dad and I work?" Barely pausing for breath, she added brightly, "They always need good secretaries, and I know that one of the girls is leaving soon to have her baby."

  The mournful look had been erased, and Katie became cheerful. "Do you think I could? I wouldn't like to presume."

  Stacy recalled how well Katie had done in secretarial college, so she said honestly, "I know you would be good at the job. Besides, you have experience now and the references to prove it. I can assure you that you would be hired on your own merits; the company does not waste its money on anyone's friends. Just contact Mr. Beltmore, the personnel manager."

  Katie gave a decided nod with her head as she said, "All right, I'll try it. Thanks, Stacy, for giving me the lead." Then she eyed the dress box propped next to her friend's feet. "Now you can answer my questions. What's in the box? I'm dying to know what you bought at Neiman's."

  "A dress."

  Katie's curiosity was obviously not satisfied, and Stacy smiled as she watched her friend unsuccessfully try to contain her interest.

  "Is it for a special occasion?" she guessed, but then, seeing the glint in Stacy's eyes, she knew that she was being deliberately led on. "So give—where are you going to wear it?"

  Stacy eyed her friend carefully, wondering if she should confide in her the truth, but she finally decided against it, since it would not be fair to Drew. Unfortunately, Katie had known her well all through school when they were supposedly "dating", which meant Stacy had to be extra cautious. She plunged in: "Drew Pitman is taking me out to a cocktail party and to dinner afterward."

  "Wow! How did you meet him?" Katie was impressed and did not notice the apprehensive glaze of Stacy's eyes. "I've read about him in the newspapers."

  Still not out of the woods, Stacy answered carefully, trying to keep the facts vague enough not to arouse her friend's suspicions. "Actually, we dated briefly a while ago, and then last week he was called out to the site when there was a fire." Relief washed over her when Katie did not question it but asked instead, "Is he as good looking as his pictures?"

  A vivid image of Drew focused in Stacy's mind as she found herself saying, "Yes, I believe he is, in a rugged sort of way. What I'd call a 'man's man'; he has a slight cleft in the center of his square chin, dark, velvet blue eyes, blond hair, and a deep tan even at this time of year." Abruptly the words died as Stacy caught her friend's speculative stare.

  "You seem to know him very well." Stacy could feel the heat in her cheeks as Katie leaned forward to add, "Stacy, be very careful. Drew Pitman has quite a reputation. I don't want you to get hurt."

  Overwhelmed by her deceit and Katie's endearing warning, Stacy's glance flickered away from Katie's clear blue eyes. She looked pointedly at her watch and made her excuses to leave. "I've got to run. Please keep in touch. Let me know how the interview goes." With a quick stop to settle the bill, Stacy was off with a wave of her hand.

  Now oblivious to the scenery, the noise, and fumes from the traffic, Stacy walked swiftly back to the apartment. Slowing her pace, she realized that no matter how fast she went, she could not run away from her conscience.

  After soaking for the better part of an hour in a tub of scented hot water, Stacy felt more relaxed and better able to cope with the perils of the evening ahead. She rose gracefully and briskly toweled herself dry before slipping into a soft, sage-green velour wrap robe. As she gave a final tug to the belt she heard the sound of the front door closing and heavy footsteps as her father entered the apartment.

  By the time she reached the living room, Bob Davidson was comfortably ensconced in an easy chair with the evening paper spread open. He looked up as his daughter walked in and came to brush his lined cheek with an affectionate kiss. She noticed how tired he looked and said, "Hi, darling. Had a rough day?"

  "No more so than usual."

  Stacy perched on the arm of his chair and slid her hand across his shoulders. "Are you sure you feel up to going out this evening?"

  A mysterious smile lit his face. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

  Still concerned,
she asked, "Are you sure I can't get you anything? I could fix up a plate of cheese and crackers or something more substantial if you'd like."

  "Quit fussing. I'll be fine. As a matter of fact, I'm not in the least hungry. I went out to eat for lunch and came back feeling stuffed. Any more food and I'll have another bout of indigestion."

  "Are you ill?"

  "No, not at all." He gave her a wry smile. "It's just at my age I can't eat all the rich foods I'd like."

  Her face was still shadowed with concern.

  "Look, you go finish getting ready. I want to read the paper for a few minutes before I change."

  "Okay. But one last question."

  His eyes twinkled. "Just like a woman."

  She groaned softly as she remembered another man who had made the same comment, and said with spirit, "I'll ignore that since you're my father. I just wanted to know if you wanted to dine with Drew and me after the party."

  "Thanks, but no, thanks. You and Drew don't need an old man like me tagging along. I'm content to have a quiet evening. It will give me a chance to finish reading the paper uninterrupted." His eyes twinkled up at her.

  "Oh, you! I'm going!" She reached her other arm around to give him a swift hug before she slid to her feet and walked back to her room.

  With a few minutes to spare, she flipped on her clock radio so she could listen to some music while she finished dressing.

  Sitting at the dressing table, she carefully French-braided her hair, starting high on the crown. She wrapped the loose ends up and tucked them under and anchored them with bobby pins. The loose plaiting separated the layers of side and back hair, revealing the brilliant shades of her shining hair. For the final touch she twisted a tendril of hair at each ear.

  Then she added subtle touches of eyeshadow, blusher, and lipstick coordinated with the crimson tones of her dress. She shrugged off her robe and tossed it over the end of the bed. The cool air caressed her bare skin for a moment as she selected appropriate undergarments from her dresser drawers. Then she slipped on the silky peach lingerie which felt sensuous against her creamy skin and stepped into the long, flowing dress. She reached back to close the zipper, but halfway up it snagged. Fruitlessly, she struggled with it for a few seconds before conceding defeat. Calling to her father, she followed sounds to the living room. Without bothering to hold the upper edges of the dress together, she went down the hallway. Suddenly, she jerked to a stop in the doorway, stunned by the presence of the tall man who was rising to his feet.