by Unknown
"I guess you were waiting till the right man came along."
If you only knew! Stacy mused. Then, uneasy with the trend of the conversation, she directed it away from herself by asking, "Tell me, where has Paul taken you out? Anyplace special?" Thus, she effectively kept Katie chatting about her own doings until she decided it was time to go back home.
Choosing not to wait up for her father, Stacy prepared for bed, carefully keeping her troubled thoughts at bay. But as had happened before, when she lay down, Drew's image immediately popped into mind, and with a pang of regret she acknowledged that her love for him was futile. He was not the type to settle down, and prolonging their association was not only useless, but dangerous. His sensual appeal strained her moral concepts and it shamed her to admit that she had smugly assumed that they would protect her from any man's advances. Now she realized that if she wanted to survive this "engagement" unscathed she would have to terminate it quickly or the next time Drew tempted her she might not be so lucky. Just before sleep overtook her, she resolved to confront Drew about calling it off.
If she cherished hopes that she could quickly carry out her decision, she was doomed to be disappointed. Mid-morning the next day she received a phone call which sealed the fate of her plan.
After she identified herself, the woman on the other end of the line said, "Oh, Stacy, I'm glad I reached you. I'm Mrs. Montgomery. Perhaps Drew has mentioned me?"
Stacy paused to think, but could not recall the name. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Montgomery, Drew hasn't."
"Oh, how like a man," she replied in exasperation. Then, with subtle charm, she said, "Please call me Estelle. My husband and I are good friends of the Pitmans. We'd like to give an engagement party for you and Drew a week from Friday."
Stacy forced some enthusiasm into her voice. "That's very kind of you, but I don't know what Drew's schedule is at the moment." It flashed through her mind that there might be a remote chance that the party could be postponed and, just possibly, never take place at all! But Estelle Montgomery's next words destroyed her wishful thinking.
"Drew's mother has been in touch with me and her son, and the date we selected is agreeable to them. I said I'd check with you, but I presumed Drew would warn you."
"No, he hasn't." And, giving in to the inevitable, she added reluctantly, "But that evening is fine with me."
"Good. My husband's away today. Perhaps you could come over to my home this evening and we could discuss the arrangements after dinner."
Stacy accepted the invitation, and after taking down specific directions for finding the Montgomerys' house, she replaced the receiver and sat staring into space. Her thoughts revolved around the party. Eventually, she concluded that with Drew's mother already planning to attend, little could prevent it—better by far to get it over with as soon as possible. At least, if she confined their dates to public functions, she assured herself, she could take steps to avoid being alone with Drew. No more moonlit walks or dinners a deux at his place!
That evening, after work, Stacy hurried home through the gathering dusk. The sun's dying rays streaked the sky with tongues of flame. Prior to leaving the office, she had apprised her father of her invitation and had learned that he was going out too.
Upon being informed of his plans, Stacy had said, "Again?" Her eyes were twinkling.
He gazed at her suspiciously. "Yes. I'm having dinner with a friend."
"Anyone I know?" she probed, hoping that he would confide in her. It had troubled her that their close relationship had deteriorated since her engagement to Drew.
Her father shifted in his chair, then said with some asperity, "Yes. It's Muriel Goodwin."
"Why, Dad, that's marvelous!" She tried to appear surprised by his disclosure, but apparently it did not succeed because her father lifted one brow. "I get the feeling this news comes as no surprise."
Facing her father's discerning gaze, Stacy said, "I confess." She smiled mischievously. "I have my sources." She paused. "I'm a little disappointed that you didn't tell me sooner."
Self-consciously, he ran a finger along the inside of his collar. "There's nothing to tell; Muriel and I have known each other for years."
"Uh-huh. That's why you never mentioned the name of your 'companion.'"
"I wasn't trying to conceal it," he defended. "Didn't know you'd find it so important."
She smiled affectionately. "Well, anyway, I'm glad you're not working such long hours. Since you'll be out I won't plan any dinner."
"That's fine. I'll pick up something after I finish here." He turned his attention to the papers on his desk.
"Okay. Bye, Dad." She turned and walked back into her office, and after straightening up her desk, she went home to get her car.
She was not really looking forward to this meeting, but, as it turned out, things went smoothly. Mrs. Montgomery could not have been more kind or considerate. During a light meal and a tour of the gorgeously decorated home, Estelle explained her ideas for the party and encouraged Stacy to contribute her suggestions. The only sour note of the evening occurred after they had returned to the sumptuous living room and Estelle handed her the guest list.
"I'm sure there are several names you'd like to add, but these are the ones I've compiled so far. I've taken the liberty of addressing the invitations, and I have more ready for your additions."
Stacy scanned the list, pleased with the choices, until she read Jennifer Hyatt's name. Suddenly feeling almost as though someone had knocked the wind out of her, she clutched the sheet and took a deep breath. She hadn't been prepared for this! How dare Drew invite his girl friend to our engagement party! Stacy seethed. Jennifer had marred the other party, and Stacy knew instinctively that she would try to jinx this one. But her hands were tied. She was helpless. The invitation was all ready, and she couldn't think of any adequate excuse to rescind it. Well, at least I'll be prepared, she thought stoutly. Forewarned is forearmed.
The days prior to the party slipped by, one pretty much like another. Her decision made to finish the engagement, Stacy stubbornly suppressed thoughts of Drew by working hard all day, and every evening she took advantage of the milder weather and jogged. By the time she was ready for bed, her body was exhausted sufficiently enough for her to sleep.
The only break in the pattern occurred four days before the party. She had returned from jogging and was preparing for a bath when the telephone rang. She picked it up on the second ring.
"Hello." Her heart skipped a beat as Drew's voice came over the wire.
"Hi, Stacy. Remember me?" Her legs gave way and she plunked down on the bed. Then, gathering her wits, she asked, "Who is this? Tom, Dick… or Harry?" She strove to make her tone flippant when all the while her senses were clamoring.
"Guess again…"
"Could it possibly be Drew Pitman?"
"Right." He chuckled. "You were expecting someone else?"
"Well, my social calendar has been so busy lately…" She let her sentence trail off ambiguously.
"Oh, really?" He laughed. "And here I thought you were pining away until I came home."
"And when is that?" Stacy couldn't help asking.
"The day before the Montgomerys' party. I can't miss that."
"No, you can't, since you chose the date." A touch of annoyance crept into her voice.
"Do I detect a note of censure?"
Ire bubbled up. "Why should you? Just because I wasn't consulted…" She stopped; she wouldn't bicker over the phone.
"It was the best we could do under the circumstances," he explained. "Have you met our hostess?"
"Yes. Estelle's been very thoughtful. She invited me over to her home and we discussed all of the arrangements."
"Good. Estelle Montgomery is very adept at handling these functions. Any other news?"
Shifting uneasily on the edge of the bed, Stacy thought of her decision, but told him, "Nothing that can't wait."
"Okay. Plan on my picking you up at seven. That way we'll have a chance to
visit with Mother."
"That will be fine. See you then… Bye, Drew."
"So long." The line went dead and Stacy carefully replaced the receiver and then propped her chin on her hand, her forehead pleating in a frown. Everything had become so complicated. In just a few days she had to meet Drew's mother and more family friends, each one expecting her to be a radiantly happy bride-to-be. If she had known of the ramifications back when Drew first made his announcement, she would have insisted on telling the truth; far better to have faced her father's wrath. She stood up, walked into the bathroom, slid out of her robe, and sank down into the steaming tub.
Well, she mused, hindsight isn't going to help. Things have gone too far to back out now. But soon, she assured herself, everything will be back to normal. She tried not to contemplate what "normal" would mean; never to see Drew, nor be held in his arms. She eased her limbs into a comfortable position and let the heat soak into her aching muscles, closing her eyes, but it wasn't so easy to close her mind to her arousing memories.
The night of the party Stacy took considerable care with her appearance. She had selected one of her favorite dresses to bolster her confidence; it was made from a supple ivory fabric which draped gracefully in a cowl neckline across the front and dipped down in the back to expose her smooth, creamy skin. The bodice clung from her shoulders to her waist and then hung in soft folds so that as she moved, it swished around her ankles. To complete the effect she arranged her hair in a topknot and had to apply her makeup more than once before she was satisfied.
She was surveying the final results in her full-length mirror when she heard the sound of the doorbell. With a feeling of trepidation, she collected her lacy shawl and evening bag and left the security of her room.
As she walked toward the living room, she saw Drew with his back to her, talking to her father as they waited. For a moment she observed him unnoticed. He wore a black evening suit with an unmistakable air of panache. The dark material outlined his broad shoulders and lean hips, and contrasted sharply with his blond hair. Stacy could not deny that he was the best-looking man she had ever dated.
She reined in her thoughts as, upon detecting her presence, he turned to face her.
"Good evening, Drew," she greeted him coolly, daring to meet his enigmatic smile with one of her own.
"Hello, Stacy. You look… lovely." As he spoke, he covered the space between them and grasped her bare upper arms, pulling her against his ruffled shirt. Her nostrils filled with his masculine scent as he lowered his head to kiss her.
Stacy tried to keep her mouth rigid, but as his warm lips gently teased her mouth she discovered to her consternation that she could not restrain her response.
When he released her, he smiled knowingly before he turned his attention to Bob. Darn him! she thought furiously. Why does he have this effect on me? She strove to regain her former coolness, but it was impossible since he had captured one hand and gently massaged the inside of her wrist with his thumb. It sent a tingling awareness up her arm and throughout her body. Oblivious to the men's exchange of words, Stacy glanced up and saw a glimmer of unholy amusement in Drew's eyes and she knew he sensed her involuntary reaction to his sensual caress.
Drew's voice caught her attention as he said, "We'll see you later, Bob." Then he looked down at her, his eyes still alight. "Ready?"
"Yes." She slid her shawl over her shoulders and said to her father, "You're driving yourself?"
Bob laughed and Stacy stared at him, confused. "You gave yourself away, kitten. You were so wrapped up in seeing Drew again you didn't listen. I've explained that I would be escorting Muriel to the party."
"Katie's coming, isn't she?"
"Yes, of course. Her date will bring her."
"Oh, good…"
"I think we'd better start moving or everyone will arrive before us, and remember, Mother wants to meet you privately."
"I'm looking forward to it." Her voice came out strained.
"Bye, Bob." Drew steered Stacy toward the door and whispered in her ear, "Little liar."
She scowled. "What do you mean?" she snapped when the door closed behind them.
"I got the distinct impression you don't relish going to this party. Or is it meeting Mother?"
"Both," she was forced to answer honestly.
"Well"—his eyes assessed her gown—"you needn't be concerned over your appearance."
"Thanks." The word came out with an edge of indifference.
"I meant that as a compliment." Now he was frowning, baffled by her tone.
"Good… Shall we go?" She was pleased to have the upper hand for once. But this feeling was quickly lost as he spun her around to face him, sliding his hands under her shawl and up across her bare back.
"Did you miss me?"
"No."
"Liar," he breathed softly as he hugged her and covered her mouth with his own.
Shaken by his ardency, Stacy was reluctantly grateful for the support of his arm across her shoulders as they made their way down the open-tread steps.
After a brief drive they reached their destination. The Montgomerys' home was built along modern lines: long and low. All of the inner rooms had sliding-glass doors which opened onto a terrace where Estelle planned to have dancing.
The evening was perfect—cool but not chilly, a blanket of stars across the sky. Stacy felt a gentle breeze stir her hair as they approached the massive front door. Drew held his arm securely around her waist and she wondered irreverently if it was to ensure that she didn't bolt before confronting his mother. She smiled at the thought.
Drew glimpsed her whimsical smile. "Want to let me in on the joke?"
"Oh, it's nothing."
He dismissed it with a shrug of his shoulders and pressed firmly on the doorbell.
Mrs. Montgomery, elegantly attired in a midnight-blue evening dress, opened the door herself and welcomed them into the spacious terrazzo hallway. "Drew, dear boy, I'm pleased you and Stacy arrived early."
A distinguished-looking man just a few inches taller than Estelle came up and shook Drew's hand. "Good to see you, Drew." He turned his attention to Stacy. "And this, I assume, is Stacy."
His wife made the necessary introduction and he took Stacy's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, young lady. You've impressed my wife."
"Why… thank you, sir." She felt her cheeks begin to warm as she looked straight into John Montgomery's discerning eyes.
Estelle linked her arm through her husband's. "John, don't embarrass the poor girl." Then she informed them, "Dorothy will be along in a few minutes." She caught the sound of light footsteps and turned her head. "Ah… here she is now."
Stacy watched Drew's mother as she glided toward them, and she quickly revised her mental image. Somehow, she had assumed that she would be the stereotype of an artist instead of this cool, meticulously dressed lady. She wore a long, black gown whose deceptively simple style decried its superior design. Everything about her was immaculate, from her short, wavy hair to her pale-polished nails. The resemblance to her son was evident in her blonde hair touched with grey, her blue eyes, and the strong cheekbones.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," Drew's mother told the quartet. As she came abreast of her son, she patted his back, saying, "Hello, dear."
"Mother." He gave her a feather-light kiss and then said, "This is Stacy."
The older lady regarded her appraisingly as she extended one slim hand. "My dear, I'm so pleased to meet you." With a swift glance to her son, she added, "You're just as pretty as Drew described you."
"Thank you, Mrs. Pitman." Her skin became warmer.
"Dorothy, please, we're almost family."
"Thank you… Dorothy." Instinctively, she felt an easing of her tension at his mother's cordiality.
"Dorothy, why don't you take these two to the study? There you can have some privacy until our guests arrive," Estelle suggested.
"That's a delightful idea. I need to get acquainted with this young woman." She smil
ed and took them both by the arm.
When they reached the study, Stacy gazed around appreciatively. A broad desk dominated the room, and around the walls were bookcases, and there was still room for a conversation grouping of tweed-upholstered furniture.
After they were seated, Stacy and Dorothy on the sofa, while Drew relaxed in an armchair, Dorothy explained, "I'm sorry I haven't been to Houston sooner, but I was involved with getting work done for an exhibit."
"That's all right. I understand."
"Actually, I was quite surprised when Drew told me." She smiled at her son. "I had about given up hope that he would ever marry."
"I'm not in my dotage yet, Mother."
"I should hope not!" she chuckled. "Then where would I be?"
"I expect you'll still be painting in your nineties."
"I do have a few years to go, then?"
"I don't need to tell you that you've never looked better."
"It's nice to hear, anyway." She leaned forward and touched the hand resting on the low arm of the chair. "Have you told Stacy about my plans for tomorrow?"
"Not yet. I thought I'd leave it to you." Stacy was curious, her eyes wide as they flickered between mother and son.
Dorothy told her. "I have the day free tomorrow and I suggested to Drew that we go shopping at the Galeria."
"That sounds fine to me," she agreed, concealing a twinge of apprehension at spending several hours in this observant woman's company.
They continued to chat for several more minutes until Drew suggested that they rejoin their friends.
When Bob and Muriel arrived, Drew adroitly introduced everyone, and the well-mannered politeness of strangers was soon displaced by a mutual amicability.
As at the last party, Drew's and Stacy's attention was claimed by their friends, so it wasn't until well into the evening that Drew invited her to dance. Estelle had arranged for a mixture of fast and slow music so it would appeal to the various interests of her guests. Out under the canopy of stars, Stacy breathed deeply the azalea-scented air and gave herself up to the floating sensation created as she danced in Drew's warm embrace. She felt as though she could continue this way all night.
