'That won't fly, hmm?' Zan mused. 'Well, give me a few minutes and I'll come up with a better story then. I'm a bit slow this morning.'
'Yes, I'd noticed.' There was a touch of acid behind those dry words. 'You've been drinking, haven't you, Zan?'
'It shows?' he asked ironically.
But she took him seriously. 'Darling, everything shows after thirty! Haven't you learned that by now?' She chuckled tenderly. 'Besides, I know that little-boy-lost look only too well . . . Now, where's this famous secretary of yours?'
Biting her lip, Jade turned towards the stairs. Might as well get this over with. Something told her it would not be pleasant. She walked down the stairs, her eyes wide and wary, her chin high, and as she turned at the bottom step, her gaze locked with that of the woman in the living room.
Jade had a fleeting impression of steely blue eyes in a pale, exquisitely made up face, of eyebrows plucked too thin. The eyebrows arched and frowned delicately as the blue eyes narrowed. 'Zan,' the woman murmured. The name held a world of weary disgust.
From the corner of her eye, Jade saw Zan stand. She could feel his eyes on her face as he made the introductions, but pride forced her to return the icy appraisal she was still enduring.
'Irena Adams, this is Jade Kinnane. Irena is my agent,' Zan explained rapidly.
And also his old lover, and also extremely angry, Jade realised as she studied the blonde before her. Angry, but icily self-controlled as she lounged back on the sofa, her arms draped gracefully over its back. Beneath a white linen suit which would have paid Jade's mortgage for the summer, her long legs were carefully displayed. And her gaze was just as calculating as her pose as she examined Jade openly.
At last her sleek head turned to Zan. 'The secretarial pool is so low around here that you had to resort to cradle robbing?' she purred sweetly.
Jade felt a flame light in her eyes, and her chin lifted. The day had been bad enough so far. She didn't have to take this.
But behind her, Zan was answering, his voice lazily amused. 'When they're big enough, they're old enough ... to type, that is, Irena.'
'Mmm.' The blue eyes turned back to rake Jade's face. 'How many words per minute do you type, Miss Kinnane?' A thin eyebrow arched sceptically.
Slipping her hands into her pockets, Jade leaned back on her heels with unconscious, arrogant grace and stared down at the woman before her. At least she had the advantage of height at the moment, if not venom. 'I haven't the foggiest,' she drawled gently. But she felt her cheeks beginning to burn.
Zan broke in smoothly. 'You'll have to forgive that question, Jade. Irena has a financial stake in my writing. Sometimes that makes her a bit. . . anxious.'
But that verbal slap was not enough to quell the other woman. She turned to smile at Zan, her eyes wide. 'And how far along are you, Zan?' she cooed.
Jade turned to watch his face. Zan was rubbing a knuckle slowly across his lips, his eyes holding Irena's. 'Chapter eleven,' he said bluntly.
'That's what I was afraid of.' Irena's smile was grim. 'May I see it?'
Zan's hesitation was barely perceptible. '. . . If you wish,' he said evenly. 'How long are you staying, Irena?'
Irena's blue eyes shifted thoughtfully to Jade's tense face, then slid away again. 'As long as you'll have me, darling,' she purred. 'As long as it takes to get you back on the track.'
Zan's brows twitched. 'All right. Let's get you settled upstairs, and then we'll take you out to lunch, for starters.'
But Irena's brows arched again. 'Lunch out? In the middle of a book? This is the man who never mixes business with his pleasure?'
Zan smiled gently, but apparently he had no comeback to this gibe. He turned to Jade, his eyes probing her frozen face. 'Jade, you're going to have to give up your studio for a few days. Want to get on with it?'
'Right!' Jade was only too glad to retreat from this verbal sparring match. The air between Zan and Irena fairly crackled with tension. She was nothing but an unwilling observer, an intruder at this electric reunion.
Jade was clearing the bureau in the guest room when Zan appeared with a suitcase. She picked up a stray tube of paint, tightened its top and fitted it carefully into her kit.
'Jade.' He loomed beside her, his long hand tapping nervously on the bureau top.
Jade studied her kit. The blues were out of order; she needed more Hooker's green. 'Hmm?' she murmured, trying not to bite at her lip.
'Why were you crying like that, Red?' he demanded intensely. 'Look at me!'
'Zan?' The throaty call from the corridor spared her the trouble of finding a lie.
Zan sighed. 'In here, Irena.'
'What a view!' Irena swept into the room and past them to study the harbour, her long body posing elegantly against the light.
Jade snatched up her brushes and fitted them one by one into their bambo mat holder, rolling them up carefully.
'Yes, it's not bad,' Zan agreed.
As she collected her drawing pencils, Jade could feel Irena turning back towards them.
'And how's the view from your room, Zan?' the blonde asked huskily.
There was a moment of vibrating silence before Zan answered—time enough for Jade's teeth to rake her lip. 'Even better,' he answered deliberately.
Jade didn't look up, didn't need to raise her head to see the look passing between them. She collected the brushes, the pencils, the erasers, put them in place and shut the kit.
As if that answer had settled a question, Irena suddenly became brisk. 'All right, Zan, out of here!' she ordered gaily. 'I've got to change.' Shooing him out the door, she closed it and strolled over to the closet.
All at once, the room seemed tiny. She had to get out of here. Jade folded the newspapers up carefully, trying to work quickly and yet look at ease.
'I see you're engaged,' Irena observed behind her.
'Yes.' Jade stuffed the newspapers into the trash can and discovered a stray tube of paint.
'Your fiancé must be very self-confident young man, to let you work for Zan Wykoff.'
Jade looked up. In the mirror above the bureau, Irena was smiling widely at her, her fine teeth just showing between the red lips as she unbuttoned her silk blouse. Beneath the blouse she wore a bra as elegant as the breasts it supported. Jade wondered absently if she herself would look that good in ten years. She met Irena's eyes deliberately. 'He's not worried,' she lied lightly. She noted that it hadn't even occurred to his agent that Zan and she might be engaged. That notion was just too preposterous, apparently.
Irena laughed deep in her throat. 'Well, he should be! Zan collects hearts like a collie collects cockleburrs!' Strolling over to the mirror beside Jade, she turned her head to study the smooth twist of blonde hair at the nape of her neck. Not a hair was out of place.
Jade didn't bother to answer that as she refastened the kit. She turned to the bed and began to stack the paintings she had laid out this morning.
'That won't be necessary,' Irena murmured kindly.
Jade looked up blankly, then blazed scarlet as she met Irena's smiling gaze and her meaning hit home. Of course—Irena would not be needing this bed. There was one with a better view, a much better view, next door. 'All the same,' she shrugged, turning back to her work. She reached for the portrait of Zan.
'Why, that's rather clever!' Irena's charmed surprise fell just short of insult as she slithered into a low-cut white sundress.
'Thanks.' Jade set a seascape on top of it and reached for another.
'What will you take for it?'
Jade met her eyes. 'It's not for sale.' And there was no point in giving some lie as to why it was not for sale. They were too in tune. Irena knew why. Jade slipped the paintings into a small portfolio and fastened it carefully, turned to collect her kit.
'Miss Kinnane?' Picking up her handbag, Irena put a hand oh the doorknob and turned back to smile at Jade. 'Let me give you just one piece of advice.'
Chin raised, Jade met her eyes. 'I don't believe I ask
ed for any,' she commented wryly.
Irena ignored that. 'Just don't take him seriously.' Her smile widened slowly, lazily, but it never reached the cold eyes. 'For your own sake.' Opening the door, she swayed out into the corridor and Jade followed.
Dressed in slacks and a knit shirt, Zan waited for them at the foot of the stairs. The shadows under his grey eyes gave him a fine-drawn Byronic look which caught at Jade's heart, as he looked up at her. She looked away. He ought to be sleeping.
'Where shall we take Irena for lunch?' he asked quietly.
'Take her to the Pier,' Jade suggested, walking across to the kitchen to collect her sandals.
'You're coming too,' Zan stated firmly.
She slipped on her shoes and looked up at him, tossing back her braid. 'I'm not in the mood today, Zan. I'd rather not.'
'And I'd rather you did.' His jaw tightened.
Why was he trying to be nice about this? It just made things worse. Or perhaps he was using her to tease Irena? 'And I'd rather not,' she clipped out, her eyes beginning to blaze even as she smiled up at him.
'Zan, don't be a tyrant!' Irena interrupted, laughing. She slipped a hand through his good arm and squeezed it. 'Give the poor girl the day off, if she wants it!'
Zan's eyes raked Jade's face, studied the tilt of her chin. Finally his brows shrugged. 'Okay,' he said quietly. 'Okay, okay.'
Somehow, Jade made it out the front door. Her legs were beginning to shake. She started up the hill and then stopped, her eyes widening in dismay. Her house keys! She patted her pockets desperately, but to no avail. They were probably in the living room, by the sofa where she'd found Zan this morning.
She bit her lip. She couldn't go back in there. She couldn't! Of course you can, she told herself grimly. You've got to. Taking a deep breath, she set her gear down and turned back to the door.
But no one answered her knock, and she couldn't bring herself to ring the doorbell. If they were upstairs, she didn't want to disturb them. Head bent, she stood there, thinking.
Perhaps they were on the patio. If so, she could hail Zan from the side wall. Jade hurried around the corner and down towards the water.
And they were on the patio, but they were not admiring the view. Zan's muscular back was turned towards her. He stood perfectly straight, blocking Jade's view of Irena, but she could see the blonde's long-nailed fingers spreading out, twining up through his dark gold hair as she pulled his head down to meet her upturned lips. Jade backed around the corner and sagged back against the building.
For this she was going to cancel her plans? Fred's plans? Change the rest of her life? Nausea spiralled through her, followed by a tearing sensation. What had Zan called jealousy? The green-eyed monster, clawing at your guts? He'd said she didn't know that side of love . . . Well, she was learning . . . And he'd forgotten to tell her about the rage ...
Somehow Jade made it home, somehow she managed to break in by a half-latched window. She packed a bag with a handful of clothes, threw in a randomly-grabbed book for the bus, found her spare keys. She watered the plants and left. Newport was too small a town to hold the three of them. She had to get away. Half an hour later, she was on a bus, bound north for Boston.
CHAPTER NINE
But distance and time offered no solutions to Jade's problems, as she discovered in the next few days. She found refuge with her room-mate from college, as she had known she would. She spent the days wandering the city streets, sketching—and thinking of Zan. She spent the evenings talking with Liz—about Zan. At night she tossed on Liz's couch, alternately thinking and dreaming—of Zan. And three days later, she sat on a bus heading south again, no closer to a solution than ever. But as she'd told Liz, she had to water her plants . . .
Jade adjusted the contoured seat and leaned back, shutting her eyes. What was she going to do? What could she do? She couldn't impose on Liz for ever. Couldn't conceive of running to her father in Houston or her mother in California. Wouldn't even contemplate running to Fred. That left Newport. . . the only place in the world she wanted to be right now ...
She sighed. 'Get him out of your system,' had been Liz's practical advice. 'Spend August in bed with the brute, and you'll probably discover you loathe him . . .' Jade smiled wryly. No doubt that was practical advice, if one happened to be a practical female like Liz. But if you played for keeps . . . She couldn't give herself just for three weeks. Not to Zan. She could give her heart for life, but Zan said she shouldn't be serious. . .Zan didn't want that from her.
She bit her lip. She ought to be running for her life, not returning! Forget the house, forget the plants, forget the signed confession that Zan still held. She half smiled as she thought of that . . . What a farce! What a con job he'd pulled on her with that statement! He would never have sued her, she knew now. It had been one of Zan's jokes, an elaborate bluff to get his way.
But if the threat had been empty, she'd promised all the same. Promised to help him finish a book. What about that? And how was the book coming? she wondered. Had Irena straightened him out?
Her mouth twisted along with her stomach as she thought of the blonde. Think of something else, quick . . . Fred ... At least she'd taken Liz's advice there, or part of it. 'Take one last look at the guy before you kiss him off. Besides, Dear John letters are cop-outs.' That last bit was good advice anyway. Fred would be home in three weeks, and it was only fair to tell him in person, not to spoil the last of his summer. So she'd written to him, not agreeing to an October wedding, just saying they'd have to talk when he came back. Perhaps that would give him a hint, prepare him a little . . .
She had to stop thinking about all this. Hadn't she packed a book, come to think of it? Groping in the bottom of her overnight bag, she found it, pulled it out, then winced and shut her eyes. It was The Rookie, of course. Zan's first book. He was haunting her, that was it. She could run where she wanted, he'd be one step behind, or even closer than that. For Zan was inside her now. Under her skin. She might just as well go back ...
Sighing, she flipped open the book and read a page at random. She'd read it once already and liked it tremendously, but this time she read it to see Zan, not to follow a plot. Her mouth curved as she read, as she pictured a younger, cockier Zan, a clever golden boy setting out to conquer New York with a typewriter . . . She read another page, then another, then flipped back to the start, missed it and found herself reading the dedication, 'To A1 and to Mona.'
And penned in below it, in awkward, left-handed script she'd never seen before, 'and to the darling jade.'
She gasped. When had he written that? It could only have been when she fled to the women's room, that night at the restaurant. And what did it mean? He'd mentioned that in the car, the day they met—something about a quote. No doubt it was a joke of some sort, knowing Zan.
It was late evening, a moonlit, cricket-loud evening, when Jade trudged down her street at last. There would be no foghorns tonight to wake Zan, she thought absently, watching her shadow on the pale sidewalk before her.
Tiny, dark-haired Cathy was sitting on the front steps with the young Navy couple from across the street. In no mood to socialise, Jade waved to her shy, pretty tenant and turned up the side path, fishing her keys out of her jeans.
'Jade!' Cathy hurried behind her. 'Someone was asking for you!' she cried breathlessly. 'A fair man with a broken arm!'
'Oh . . .' Jade groaned. 'Oh-oh!' She should have expected that—hadn't thought of that in her haste to leave town. 'What did he do?'
Cathy hugged herself nervously. 'He came to the door and asked for you. I told him what you'd asked me to say—that you'd moved away in early June.'
Jade bit her lip. Oh, lord. 'What did he say?'
Cathy shook her head. 'He didn't say anything. He stood there for a moment, very quietly, and then he just pushed open my door—very gently—and walked in. I couldn't stop him!'
'No, of course you couldn't,' Jade breathed. 'Oh, lord, Cathy, I'm sorry! And then?'
'H
e just strolled through the apartment, looking, then he came back and asked me why I still had some of your plants and furniture. I. . . I could hardly speak by then, but I told him you'd let the place furnished, but I didn't know where you were . . . Then he looked at the phone, checking my phone number, I think, then he just walked out again.' She paused for breath.
'Oh, Cathy, I'm awfully sorry!' Jade groaned. 'I didn't mean to get you mixed up in my problems.'
'That's okay, Jade,' Cathy assured him. 'But I think you should call the police. Terry said she saw him peeking through your front windows the next day. And your phone's been ringing day and night.'
'Did she see if he walked around back?' Jade asked carefully. If he had, he might have seen her plants in the window. She glanced nervously up the path. Zan on the warpath might not be dangerous, but all the same she'd rather not meet him tonight.
Cathy followed her glance and her eyes rounded. 'She didn't say!' she whispered. 'Hadn't you better call the police?'
Jade shook her head firmly. 'It's not that kind of problem, Cathy. Really, it's not. He's not violent.' She rattled her keys briskly and smiled at the girl. 'You've been terrific, Cathy, and thanks very much, and don't worry, okay?'
'Well, if you're sure . . .okay. . .'Looking doubtful, Cathy took the hint, and scurried away.
Flipping on the light, Jade locked the back door behind her and put the chain guard on as well. Her nerves were jumping. Zan was on the warpath for sure; she'd done it now . . . Suddenly, standing in the brightly-lit, curtainless kitchen, Jade felt incredibly exposed. Shivering, she flicked out the lights again. The moonlight washed in through the glass-topped back door and the kitchen window, changing the room to a study in soft greys, pearly whites, velvet-black shadows.
Absently, Jade peeled off her shirt and her bra and stood thinking. He must have wanted to write. He'd be furious! She found her brush and began to brush her hair, soothing her leaping nerves with its soft, flowing crackle. Tomorrow she would either have to apologise, or mail him a cheque for a dictaphone and jump town for good.
The Darling Jade Page 15
