by Unknown
The rest of the morning flew by. Once the letters were typed, signed, and in the mail, she started the lengthy report, her progress occasionally interrupted by business calls and visitors, but no Katie Goodwin.
When Paul came to pick her up, Stacy was nearing the bottom of the page, so she indicated a chair and asked him to wait until she finished. With his elbow propped on the arm of the chair, he supported his chin in his hand while beating an impatient tattoo on the arm with the other. The irksome noise strained Stacy's nerves and it took longer than normal to finish. Once she pulled the sheet from the machine, his tapping ceased and he stood hovering near the doorway while she added it to the stack and locked them away in a file drawer.
"Ready?" he harried her.
"Just a second," she returned evenly, somehow able to suppress her irritation. "I'll let Dad know I'm leaving and then we can go." After she informed her father, she opened a drawer, grasped her purse, pushed back her chair, and rose to her feet.
As they walked down the hall, Stacy suggested blandly, but with a mischievous flicker of her eyes, "Do you mind if we use the stairs? It's only three flights, and I need the exercise after sitting at that desk all morning."
Disgruntled, Paul agreed. When they reached the bottom of the stairwell, he said, slightly breathless from his exertion, "I'm ready to sit. You may not have done much moving around today, but I have."
Impervious to his reproof, she continued on to the lunchroom, which was situated in the building's ground level. When she reached the entrance she paused and searched the crowded room for a vacant table. She spotted one over in one corner and, touching Paul on his jacket sleeve, led the way. A harassed young waitress brought glasses of water and two menus, but Paul waved them aside.
"We don't have much time, so just give me the club sandwich on whole wheat." Then he regarded his companion inquiringly.
She had not known of any need for haste, but she quickly decided to order a bowl of vegetable soup.
When they were alone, Stacy asked, "Why the rush?"
"I don't want to waste time. You never know how long it will take her to return."
Stacy could think of nothing to say, so she sipped her ice water and waited for Paul to begin. She noticed his eyes were fixed once more on her ring. Any hopes for a business discussion were banished, and she did not anticipate his quizzing with pleasure.
After a moment he looked up, the muscles of his face tight. "I see you have an engagement ring… When did you get it?"
"Drew gave it to me Friday night."
"Stacy, I thought we were friends… good friends." He emphasized the last two words.
"We are, Paul… I like working with you."
"That's all?" He sounded nettled, his brown eyes pools of reproach.
What can I say? she wondered desperately. She did not want to hurt him, but she knew that even without her engagement to Drew there would never be anything more than friendship between them; the few kisses they had shared had never sparked off the tumultuous feelings that Drew's kisses inspired.
Aloud, she said as gently as she could, "I'm sorry, Paul. I consider you a dear friend." Her eyes dropped and she stared at a point on his left shoulder. "I'm very happy to be engaged to Drew."
"I had the impression that you enjoyed going out with me."
Her conscience smote her, but she forced herself to discourage his hopes once and for all. Looking him straight in the eye, she said, "We've had some good times together, Paul, but I'm in love with Drew."
He scrutinized her intently and after a moment he said, "I guess there's nothing left for me to say." His shoulders slumped.
She was aware of his dejection, but she could only sit silently, mentally chastising herself for the pain she had inflicted.
Fortunately, at that point they were distracted by the waitress. After they were served she asked, "Anything else?"
"No, thanks. Everything's fine," Stacy answered for them both.
As they ate, Stacy's mind shifted unavoidably to her declaration. Could it be true? Could she be in love with Drew Pitman? Was that what lent such conviction to her words? Of all people! His only interest in women was to use them to satisfy his own animal needs. No! She would not become prey to his overpowering charm!
Paul's puzzled voice intruded and Stacy stared at him blankly for a moment before her vision cleared and she recalled herself to the moment.
"I didn't realize you had known Drew Pitman." He continued as if trying to sort through some facts which did not add up. "Why didn't you mention it when he was called in?"
She avoided answering by biting into a cracker. At last she swallowed and said firmly, "We've already explained everything to my father's satisfaction."
"It just doesn't add up."
Now she was annoyed. It was not really any of his business! Why was he being such a bore by pursuing these questions? Lowering her spoon, she glared at him and answered with a hint of impatience, "It isn't any of your concern, so quit cross-examining me."
"Sorry, but as your friend I think I have the right." He drew back his shoulders and puffed out his chest.
"Thanks, but I can take care of myself."
"Can you?" His voice was dubious.
"Yes, I can," she asserted more firmly than she felt. Then, casting her eyes away from his mournful gaze, she glimpsed Katie standing by the doorway. Glad for an excuse to terminate his inquisition, she stood up and signaled her friend. "There's Katie," she explained to Paul.
He grunted in response, but his attitude was mollified when she pleaded, "Please, Paul, be nice. She's had a rough time of it lately."
"Haven't we all," he muttered bitterly. "Okay, as a favor to you."
When Katie reached the table, Stacy made the necessary introductions.
She responded brightly to Paul's greeting. Then, unable to contain her news, she burst out, "I got the job!"
"That's terrific." Stacy hugged her friend and then admitted apologetically, "I'm sorry I don't have more time to celebrate right now, but I've got to finish typing an important report."
"That's okay. I understand." Some of her exuberance disappeared.
"Why don't you join me? I need another cup of coffee. How 'bout you?" Paul offered absently.
"I'd love one. Thank you." The sparkle returned to Katie's eyes, and without further prompting she seated herself in Stacy's empty chair.
"See you around, Paul," Stacy said, to which he barely nodded. And then Stacy said to Katie, "I'm glad we'll be seeing more of each other. Let's plan on having lunch together next week."
"I'd like that."
"Bye for now." Stacy sketched a wave as she hurried out, relieved to escape from Paul's probing.
Chapter Six
Slumping back in one of the living room chairs, Stacy watched the evening news. Suddenly, she leaned forward, her hands clutching the velvet armrest, her attention riveted as camera footage of an oil fire flashed on the screen. The commentator tersely outlined the details: "Yesterday morning an explosion occurred in a field southwest of Houston when a farm worker plowed through high weeds concealing a two-and-a-half-foot-high well head. The leaking gas ignited instantly, killing the driver. Drew Pitman was called in, and late this afternoon he has announced the fire is under control. There were no other serious injuries…"
As the newsman droned on to the next story, Stacy heaved a sigh of relief and sank back, clenching her hands together to control their trembling.
"Looks like Drew was successful."
"Hmm?" Stacy twisted around in surprise and saw her father standing just behind her chair. "Oh… yes… everything's under control."
"He's a man you can sure be proud of."
Rising to her feet, she hesitated with her answer, but as Bob waited expectantly, she said, "He sure is." She considered him wisely. "You'd have enjoyed having a son like him."
It was more a statement than a question, and Bob responded, "Any man would, but I'll settle for him being my son-in-law."
"How lucky can you get?" she said flippantly, her mouth forced into a grin. Then she rushed on: "Dinner will be in half an hour."
"Take your time."
Stacy walked swiftly to the kitchen and busied herself with the meal's preparations. Gradually, her heart resumed a steadier pace, but her mind could not blot out the image of Drew as he had faced the television camera. Even soot and grime had not camouflaged his virile good looks and those smoky blue eyes had given her the uncanny impression that he was looking straight at her.
The next several days passed slowly. Although secretarial duties filled her days, once the kitchen was cleaned up from dinner Stacy found that the hours dragged on until it was time for bed.
She arranged to have lunch with Katie at the end of the week, but on Friday morning her friend called to cancel. Deciding that she needed a break from the office, Stacy left the building alone and set out for a nearby cafe.
The past couple of days had been rainy and overcast, matching her low spirits; luckily today the gloomy clouds had disappeared and she walked leisurely, reveling in the noonday sun, warm breeze, and fresh earth scents. Auto traffic was heavy, but even its cacophony did not disturb her buoyant spirits.
As she strolled down the sidewalk she noticed a tall blond man in the crowd ahead. "He looks just like Drew," she mused aloud, instantly perturbed by her overactive imagination. Then, as the pedestrians paused at the corner traffic light, the man in question turned his head.
It was Drew!
Her brain registered her astonishment, but she was unprepared for the lightning shot of pain she felt as she glimpsed a woman's head resting intimately against his shoulder. Instantly she recognized the unforgettable blonde hair of Jennifer Hyatt!
Stunned, Stacy stopped dead, thus causing the man behind her to ram into her. Embarrassed, she apologized to the stranger for her carelessness.
"That's all right… Are you okay? You don't look too good," said the pleasant young man, watching her pale features uncertainly.
Forcing a smile to her lips, Stacy said, "I'm fine, thank you… I just remembered some work I need to do."
"Any way I can help?"
This time her smile was warmer as she realized that he was truly trying to lend his assistance.
"No, thank you."
"My fiancée will be fine." Unnoticed, Drew had come up beside them. He glared at the innocuous young man and, as if to confirm his rights, possessively grasped Stacy by the elbow. Then he steered her toward the corner as the baffled stranger shrugged his shoulders and went briskly on his way.
"Was that necessary?" Stacy burst out, trying to shake off his restraining hand.
"I think so."
"He was just being kind." Her eyes flashed.
"Oh, yeah?" he drawled. "You don't suppose it had anything to do with those big brown eyes of yours?"
Stacy held her tongue since they were now within earshot of Jennifer, who was waiting impatiently, tapping one elegantly shod foot.
Switching adroitly to an amiable tone, Drew said, "Darling, do you remember meeting Jennifer Hyatt at the Woodwards'?"
"Oh, yes," she responded with unnecessary sweetness. "There were many people there, but such a beautiful woman is unforgettable."
Drew scrutinized her briefly but Stacy had schooled her features into a credible smile.
The other woman's eyes flickered over her suspiciously as she murmured a polite rejoinder. Meanwhile, Stacy had difficulty restraining the impulse to say something more in keeping with her true attitude.
"Jennifer and I were just on our way to lunch. Care to join us?"
What colossal nerve! Stacy thought bitterly.
But before she could supply a scathing retort, Jennifer purred, "Yes, do come along."
Recognizing the condescension in her voice, Stacy's hackles rose.
"I'd be happy to," she told Jennifer with an innocent smile, but her eyes were glowing. "I'd like to get to know some of Drew's 'old friends.'"
The blonde woman's sharp intake of breath was proof enough for Stacy that her shot had hit home. Her slight smile was replaced by a silent cry of pain when Drew's fingers squeezed her flesh. Unrepentant, she tried to dig in her heels, but his superior strength propelled her across the intersection.
"The restaurant's not much farther. This must be my lucky day—two lovely companions for lunch."
Stacy could not see Jennifer's reaction as she clung to Drew's other arm, but his smugness incensed her further. Prudently, she bit her tongue on a sarcastic retort.
When they approached the entrance, Drew dropped their arms to swing open the door and gestured urbanely for them to precede him. Jennifer led the way into the softly lit foyer, which followed the motif of the early 1900s, with Tiffany-style lamps and polished wood floors. With Drew's commanding presence they were soon seated and their orders taken. Stacy and Drew opted for the beef stew, while Jennifer chose a salad, remarking that as a model she had to be careful of her weight.
Examining the thin figure clothed today in another blue dress, Stacy said, "Oh, I didn't realize you were a model."
"Yes. I've been featured in layouts for several of the big stores."
"How nice," Stacy returned in dulcet tones.
"I find the work very stimulating."
Stacy murmured another polite comment, noting out. of the corner of her eyes by the upward tilt of his lips that Drew appeared faintly pleased about something. Then, giving Jennifer her undivided attention, she was inundated with highlights of the other woman's career.
Eventually, Drew switched the conversation to more general topics until Jennifer said, with a dramatic lift of her arched eyebrows, "You must tell me your secret, Stacy. How ever did you catch such an elusive bachelor?" Then her kitten-like gaze shifted to Drew.
Distrusting her effusive comment after her remarks at the party, Stacy said, with a touch of spirit, "You might say we fell into it." She smothered a giggle as Drew choked on a mouthful of food. "Oh, dear, are you all right?" She solicitously patted his back.
"Fine," he said tersely after sipping some water. With a strange glimmer in his eyes, he regarded Stacy and then told Jennifer, "My fiancée is too modest. I was trapped by her charms."
As he finished, his eyes went back to Stacy, whose cheeks brightened under his mocking scrutiny. She dropped her lashes.
As soon as she swallowed her last bite of stew, she excused herself on the pretext of needing to return to work.
"I'll see you out." Drew cut off her escape by swiftly rising to his feet and following her hasty steps to the foyer.
Turning, she thanked him politely for her lunch. Before she could dash out the door, he captured her hand. "May I take you out tonight?"
What gall! Stacy's mind rebelled. He invites one girl out for lunch and then another for the evening! "Your father told me you were probably free when I talked to him earlier. He mentioned that you had stepped out of the office to deliver some memos for him. As a matter of fact, I was on my way over to your office when I met Jennifer, and she persuaded me to join her for lunch."
Some persuasion! She glanced back at the blonde, who was deftly applying a fresh layer of crimson lipstick to her pursed lips.
Undaunted by Stacy's silence, Drew continued smoothly: "I'll pick you up at six-thirty."
She recovered her voice. Peeved at his highhandedness, Stacy asked pertly, "Where are we going?"
"Out to dinner." He disparagingly surveyed her navy polyester pantsuit. "So wear a dress."
"Any more requests?"
"None that I can suggest right now," he drawled suggestively, then smiled maddeningly at her rise in color.
"Until tonight." His lips brushed her cheek, scorching the skin with his touch, and she hurried through the entrance to escape from his vexing presence.
That evening, standing in front of her closet dressed in a lacy bra and bikini panties, Stacy's hand hovered over her selection of dresses, but then, defiantly, she grabbed a soft jersey jumpsuit
and closed the door on her other choices. Quickly slipping into the outfit, she fastened the long row of gilt buttons up the front and at the cuffs of the full sleeves before she lost her courage.
Drew won't think this unfeminine, she noted mentally as she inspected the reflection in her full-length mirror. The narrow gold mesh belt emphasized her narrow waist, and the supple cinnamon fabric molded her full breasts and trim hips. Then she brushed her hair around her shoulders and fastened several gold chains which draped over the skin between the lapels.
She began to raise her hands to do up one more button, but she was distracted by the chiming of the doorbell. She picked up her skimpy little shoulder bag and slid the cord up over her arm and, thrusting any doubts aside, walked swiftly to the front hallway.
Slightly flushed, she flung open the heavy door and faced Drew, unable to speak over the thudding of her heart.
"Hello, Stacy." His eyes raked over her slowly from head to foot before he quirked an eyebrow. "Has your father seen you in that?"
Stunned by his uninhibited perusal and now his comment, Stacy struggled for an answer. Gathering her wits, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. "No. Daddy is out for the evening—but he's never criticized my taste."
"He should when he sees you in that."
She tossed her head, causing the fabric to strain across her breasts. "It's very comfortable."
"I'm sure it is," he said impudently, eyeing the deep cleavage. "Ready?"
"Certainly."
When they were settled in the car, Stacy twisted to face him. "Where are we going?" Her stomach was starting to protest its empty state, and she hoped that they would not be driving far.
"I thought a home-cooked meal would be nice… I've been eating out too much lately." His eyes flickered down at her. "So we're going to my place."
"Oh, really?" she said with as much aplomb as she could muster. She had not reckoned on this!
"Yes. I need to know if my future wife is as skilled in the kitchen as she assured me she was." She did not detect his mischievous gleam.
"That's hardly relevant under the circumstances."
