Jason nodded sympathetically. "Just put all that behind you. Artists know how to do this." In the parking lot, he led her to a freshly washed, but obviously hard-used, gray Jeep. It had none of the refinements of the Grand Cherokee. This was the basic Jeep - an old workhorse. He opened the door on the passenger side.
"But my car..." She held the roses like a baby and pointed in the direction of her little red import.
"We'll come back for it," he said and walked around to the driver's side.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"On a picnic."
"In December?"
"Trust me."
She was willing to. She'd been thrilled to see him so unexpectedly, and her delight in his presence was growing by the moment. He was smiling and relaxed, and she was beginning to feel that way, too.
"Well, if you know so much about romance," she teased, "how come the candy box isn't heart-shaped?"
He cast her a grinning glance as he started the Jeep. "Because the oblong box holds more. Ready?"
She nodded. Oh, she was ready.
He drove to Cahill's Austin Palace, left the Jeep in the care of a parking attendant, and led her inside. The lobby was lavishly decorated with gold garland hung with crystal ornaments and an eighteen-foot tree trimmed with pearl strings and more crystal.
She presumed their destination was the dining room, and was surprised and a little off balance when he took her to the elevators instead.
"Where are we going?" she asked worriedly.
"To one of the penthouse suites," he replied, holding the door open for her onto an empty car.
She felt a rush of bitter disappointment. Feeling her mood change from sparkling warmth to dead-of-winter frost, she folded her arms and remained stubbornly on the carpeting. "If presumption is your idea of romance," she said, her voice reflecting her mood's change of temperature, "then you're not the artist you thought you were."
She turned to walk away and found her direction reversed when he caught her arm and pulled her onto the elevator.
"You're the one who's being presumptuous," he returned, catching her wrists as she struggled with him. The elevator doors closed and the car began its ascent. "I told you I was taking you on a picnic." "In a hotel suite?"
"The suite is famous for its balcony overlooking the rooftops of downtown." He loosened his grip on her and she yanked away from him to back into the opposite corner. "The day's threatening rain off and on. I thought we could picnic on the balcony, and move indoors if it does rain. I swear that getting you in bed never crossed my mind. I just wanted you to see Austin the way the birds and angels see it."
She studied him suspiciously.
He relented with the smallest smile. "Okay, it did cross my mind, but I dismissed it. You said you love hilltop views of old cities, and this was the best I could do without an airplane ticket."
The doors parted on the penthouse floor and he stepped out into the hallway, holding the door for her again.
She studied him from her corner, when she heard the sound of a lively trumpet, and the mellow harmony of male voices. "What's that?" she asked.
"Mariachis," he replied. "On foreign picnics, you might hire gypsies. In Texas, you invite mariachis."
Three men in brightly beaded sombreros and patterned pants and shirts appeared at the elevator doors, guitars strumming, voices raised in a lilting love song.
Diane's frosty mood melted completely.
Jason offered her his hand. Her indecision of a moment ago disappeared as she took it. She looked into his eyes and he saw the trust return - and was confused when that both pleased and worried him. Trust was a good thing. Why should that upset him?
He put that thought aside and concentrated on proving himself the romance artist he'd claimed to be. The blanket he'd set up earlier was spread across the balcony, complete with several cushions, and globe candles were placed on a small table.
As promised, the dining room had delivered a basket filled with beautifully prepared picnic foods, and a waiter Jason had generously tipped earlier stood waiting for them, wine bottle ready to pour. Behind him, San Antonio spread out like a glimpse of old Mexico, magically blended with the drama of big-city high-rises.
"Jason!" Diane breathed. "How did you arrange all this?"
"I'm a photographer," he replied, offering her a hand as she folded into a sitting position on the blanket. "I'm used to bringing props together on a moment's notice." He arranged a pillow beside her. "Lean an elbow on that and we'll start with some gulf shrimp."
The sky was bright at the moment, the temperature in the low sixties. She wore jeans with a shirt and jacket, but he tossed a hotel blanket over her knees to be sure she was warm enough.
"This is rather elegant for picnic fare," she said, biting into a shrimp.
He gestured toward the fancy spread. "This is a picnic the way an artist - a romantic artist - would arrange it."
As the mariachis played, Diane and Jason went from shrimp to Waldorf salad, to roasted capons and vegetables. The waiter refilled their wineglasses several times, then offered them strawberry tarts with cream for dessert.
"I can't do it!" Diane pleaded, pushing the plate away. "Thank you, but I don't have room for a sip of water!"
"Would you pack the rest to go, please?" Jason asked the waiter. When he left, Jason propped the cushions against the half-closed French doors and he and Diane sat side by side, looking out on the city. The Mariachis continued to play quietly just inside the room.
"My goal," Diane said, "will be to do this in every major capital of the world. Find the right balcony on the right hotel and eat the best food while feeding my soul on the view of the city."
"A worthy ambition," he agreed lazily. "But I don't think it's an activity for one." He put an arm around her and drew her closer until she could lean against his shoulder. "This is the perfect way to do those things, all wrapped up with someone you..." He hesitated, something seeming to block his next word. He tried to think around it, but kept meeting the same obstacle. "Someone important," he finally said.
"I didn't want you to be important to me." She leaned her weight comfortably against him. "But I didn't seem to have much to say about it. The timing's bad and the situation's hopeless, yet - " she tipped her head back to look into his face " - you're all I think about."
That admission went right to his head, then settled in the region of his heart, repeating itself to him - you're all she thinks about. You're all she thinks about.
He turned her so that she lay in his arms, then he lowered his mouth to take hers. She reached up for him eagerly. They kissed with all the passion of two people finally realizing what it means to find a soul mate. He felt as though he reached inside her, sounding the depths of her feelings for him. And she snared the very air he breathed, this contact deeper and more urgent than anything he'd ever experienced.
"Can I change my mind about the bed?" he whispered as he traced kisses along her jaw.
She groaned softly. "This was so...so perfect." Her arms were wrapped around his neck, her lips avid as they kissed his eyelids, his cheekbones, the rim of his ear.
For the first time that he could remember in his adult life, he felt his insides tremble. It was also the first time he remembered wanting a woman the way he wanted her. Lust and longing had combined into a formidable force and didn't seem to care that he'd seen her for the first time only two weeks before, and had actually established a relationship with her only three days ago.
"Make love with me," he said, his lips wandering down her throat into the V of her shirt collar.
She nipped his ear as he kissed her collarbone, then she framed his face in her hands and pulled him away from her, leaning her forehead against his as she drew a deep breath.
"No," she said softly. "This is just the kind of thing that gets kids into trouble."
"But we're not kids."
She kissed his cheek. "But trouble is still trouble, and I have a lot to contend wi
th right now. I want to be absolutely sure of what I feel before I make love with you. This has happened so fast."
He grinned. "When you're used to dealing in shutter speeds, it's not that fast at all." But he was grateful for any glimmer of hope. "Just tell me that our making love is on your mind, too."
She used her hands on his shoulder to lever herself to her feet. "It's in every cell in my body," she said, then offered him a hand up. "It wouldn't make any sense because you can't stay and I can't go, so I don't know why I'm even thinking about it."
"Maybe," he said, accepting her hand and springing lightly to his feet, "I'm finally affecting you the same way you affect me. I'm growing into you, too. I'm becoming part of you."
She wrapped her arms around him and held tightly. "This can't work, can it?"
There was desperation in her voice, in the way she held him. He held her tightly in return to reassure her. "It's working now, isn't it?"
She drew back to look him frankly in the eye. "It's feeling wonderful," she said. "But is that the same as working?
He couldn't imagine why she had to borrow trouble. "It's Christmas, Diane. Everything works at Christmas."
They held each other for a long moment, then she drew away to smile happily into his face. "This was a wonderful and most romantic afternoon. You're every bit the artist you claim to be."
"What are your plans for the rest of the afternoon?''
"I ordered greens from the florist to decorate the front of our favor bags. Suzanne and a couple of Megan's daughters are coming to help me make them."
He patted his pants pockets for keys. "I'll drive you there, then we'll pick up your car."
"You're coming home with me?" She looked both pleased and alarmed at that possibility.
He put an arm around her shoulders and drew her inside. "I have to photograph the event, remember?"
In the cool suite, untouched by the lavish picnic on the balcony, the bedroom door beyond stood open invitingly.
"You're sure you don't want to make love with me?" he teased, pointing toward the inviting bed, hung with sheer draperies.
She could imagine being with him in that bed, body to body, mouths touching, hands exploring.
She caught his arm and pulled him toward the front door before her feet could move in the direction of the bedroom. "Sorry. We have a date with holly and pine."
"Okay - but I'll be pine-ing for you," he said, slanting her a glance to see if she'd caught the pun.
She rolled her eyes at him in the hallway. "That was hopelessly corny," she scolded with a laugh.
"Corny stuff," he retorted, "is an artist's stock in trade."
CHAPTER SIX
There were children and babies all over Diane's apartment. Whitney, the self-appointed sitter and leader of games, kept the toddlers occupied in the living room, while the babies slept in carriers on the floor.
Greens were spread on newspaper in the middle of the kitchen table, and four women sat around it performing various tasks. Suzanne punched two holes close together on the front of each bag, Dana Maitland, one of Megan's daughters-in-law, strung a length of foil ribbon through so that both ends dangled, Ellie Cassidy helped Diane attach greens to the front of the bags, and Suzanne put the finishing touch by curlings the ends of the ribbon. The room was aromatic and the mood festive.
By nine o'clock that night, two hundred bags had been finished and stacked in boxes and baskets.
Jason photographed every step of the operation from several angles, then took pictures of the sleeping babies. He wandered into the living room where Whitney now read a storybook to the children gathered around her on the sofa. The women heard giggles and laughter from the living room. "He's gorgeous," Dana remarked. "Diane's seeing him," Suzanne contributed with a so-there look at her sister. "He thinks she's very photogenic. He wants her to go with him to - "
"Suze!" Diane stopped her with a sharp command that she turned quickly to a smile of apology. "I'm sorry," she said to the little group that were about to become her stepsisters. "I didn't mean to shout, but she's one of those big sisters who thinks it's her job to point up my achievements to everyone." Then realizing how that sounded, she backpedaled. "Not that seeing Jason is an achievement. I just - "
Ellie patted her hand. "You don't have to explain to us how sisters interact. And Anna is always doing the same thing to all of us." "Yes," Dana agreed. "And snagging him would be an achievement. He's obviously brilliant, and Anna says he has a book contract to photograph some island - "
"Noumea," Diane clarified.
"That's right. You're the social studies expert."
"Hardly an expert," Diane corrected quickly. "I'm just fascinated by people and places."
"Is Noumea where he wants you to go with him?" Ellie asked.
Dana chided her for asking, but she insisted. "Come on. We're all going to be sisters in a couple of days. We have a right to weigh in on what's going on. Don't we?"
Diane blinked, flattered by her concern, but a little worried about acquiring more sisters like Suzanne.
"You may weigh in," Diane said with a smile, "as long as you don't expect me to follow your advice."
"Fair enough," Ellie said, leaning closer. "So, are you going?"
"And, did he propose yet?" Dana prodded teasingly. "You've known him just a few weeks!"
Diane's answer did not seem required when the sisters got into a discussion on the merits of marriage and the number of relationships that progressed rapidly because of instant attraction. It soon became a rhapsodic recounting of the pleasures and satisfactions of their daily lives. Suzanne had a lot to contribute in anticipation of her own marriage to Doug McKay after a courtship of less than a month.
Diane stood to make a fresh pot of coffee and saw Jason sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of Whitney and the toddlers leaning close on each side of her. Jason focused on one enraptured little face after the other. Then Diane watched him lower the camera and simply stare at the little tableau with a thoughtful smile.
Something inside her melted into a warm puddle.
The group started to disperse at ten. Thanking everyone for their help and assuring them that she could finish on her own, Diane distributed jackets and helped put coats on toddlers.
She was sending off her guests when she realized Suzanne stood in the middle of the living room with Fran and Kimmie, two of the triplets. Jason was helping himself to a cup of coffee.
"Where's Edie?" Diane asked about the third one.
"Whitney took her into the bathroom to wash her face," Suzanne replied, glancing at her watch. "She really got into her cocoa. But they've been a few minutes. Would you - "
Suzanne's request went unfinished when the sound of a child in tears came from the direction of the bathroom. Diane and Suzanne hurried down the hall, but were intercepted by Whitney coming up with the tearful Edie on her hip. Whitney was sobbing.
"What happened?" Diane asked as Suzanne scooped up the child.
"Nothing," Whitney said, sniffling and patting Edie's back. "I'm sorry I upset her, Suzanne. I was just...thinking, and I started crying, and I guess I just frightened her."
"And you were all having such a good time tonight." Suzanne hugged the little girl to her. "Everything's okay. Whitney just has a tummy ache. She didn't mean for you to get scared."
A tummy ache indeed. Diane suspected that what had upset Whitney did have to do with the little residents in her tummy.
"I'm sorry, Edie," Whitney said, ruffling her hair.
"Why don't you give her a smile?" Suzanne cajoled.
Edie leaned heavily on Suzanne's shoulder, clearly tired and in no mood to pacify the adults.
"I'll help you out to the car," Diane volunteered. "That's a lot of little bodies to keep track of with one of them in your arms." Whitney had gone back down the hall toward the bathroom. Jason had a large plastic bag and was sweeping bent and broken greens into it with his hand. "I'll be right back," she promised.
H
e waved her off. "I'll put on the kettle."
In the elevator, Suzanne frowned at Diane, who had Fran and Kimmie by the hands. "I heard Whitney changed her mind about letting Tom and Claire take her babies."
"She's upset and confused," Diane defended. "She doesn't know what she wants."
Suzanne blew air theatrically. "I love these girls, but I can tell you I'm grateful I wasn't around when they were all in diapers, or just learning to walk. Multiples are fun, but they really do multiply the work. And I can't imagine being ready for what it takes at sixteen."
"But you and Doug are okay?"
Suzanne blushed. Diane couldn't believe her eyes. For someone who'd been so sure she didn't want the responsibility of a family, she had done a rather remarkable about-face.
"We're more than okay. We're...we're stupendous!" "Wow."
"Yeah." Suzanne's grin went from ear to ear. "You wouldn't believe how good it can be when it's good."
She could certainly imagine, Diane thought. She helped secure the triplets into their car seats, then gave Suzanne a grateful hug. "Thanks for coming to help. Especially with all your new duties." She indicated the triplets.
"I was happy to. After the holidays, it'll be back to routines for all of us. The girls will be in daycare while I'm at work, so I'm doing my best to bond and build our relationship now. See you day after tomorrow to put up all the maps."
"If you're too busy, I can manage."
"No. This wedding is special. I want to do my part. I love seeing Daddy so happy. And then Tom and Claire are like a pair of children - Well, they were until Whitney..." she added regretfully. "It breaks my heart, you know. I mean, I understand Whitney's confusion, of course, but after Claire's little boy... It's just so sad all around."
Diane hugged her again. "Well, I think you're all giving up too soon. I'm trusting that Whitney's good sense will kick in."
Suzanne shook her head wryly. "You're always such an optimist, but let's hope so. Thanks for coming down with me."
"Sure." The triplets nodded sleepily in their seats. Holiday dinners were going to be so much more interesting now, Diane thought as she waved Suzanne off and hurried back upstairs.
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