CHAPTER 5
“I still dislike it,” Robert said, easing back in the leather-lined booth at Hennessey’s. Oddly enough, he’d opted for a Guinness today. Something Irish. Dark.
Moody.
He was referring to the ad campaign.
“I don’t really understand why,” Daniel said, frowning. “Look, you know Jackie Kennedy was an editor before she died. Now who could be more high profile than Jackie Kennedy? But she went up the elevator every morning with dozens of other people. This is New York City. We’re pretty impressed with ourselves at Llewellyn Enterprises, but in the end, what are we? Just a business. Look, Jillian is my cousin.”
“Second cousin,” Robert reminded him. He wasn’t sure why he was going for that detail.
“Second cousin. My point is, she’s family. She’s the little kid I looked after the whole time I was growing up. I love Jillian. If I thought this campaign would harm her in any way, I’d be the first to veto it.” He drained his beer and set down the glass. “Excuse me, will you? I’ll be right back. Nature calls.”
After Daniel left him, Robert drummed his fingers on the table. Their waitress came by. “Mr. Marston, can I get you another?”
He looked up. The young woman looked vaguely familiar. She was slim, with a face that appeared a bit worn and prematurely lined, but she had nice eyes, warm eyes.
“Do I know you?” he asked politely.
“Not really, not as I am now.”
“Well, that’s an interesting answer. How do you know my name?”
“I asked if anyone knew who you were the minute you came in.”
“Oh?”
She nodded. “You gave me money when I was about as low as I could get.” She bit her lip. “Cocaine. I had a baby, hit the streets, worked the streets, picked up a drug habit, then got too ugly even to support it. The night you gave me the money, you said you’d like to have a kid one day, too, and you gave me another twenty and…I realized I was lucky, incredibly lucky, to have such a wonderful, healthy little girl. So I went home. And my folks took us both in. My dad is an old customer here, so he got me the job.”
“Wow,” he murmured, studying her. “Good for you. Damn good for you.”
“I’d never have done it without you.”
“I think that’s a bit too—”
“I’m not trying to embarrass you or anything. I’m just trying to thank you. Accept my thanks graciously, okay?”
He laughed. “Okay. You’re welcome. And in return, may I tell you, if I’ve improved your life, you might well be my greatest accomplishment.”
She flushed. “Well, I don’t know about that. I hear you’re a pretty important man. But if I can ever do anything for you…”
“I’ll let you know. Thanks.”
“The next beer is on me.”
“Thank you.”
“Here comes your friend. Excuse me.”
She left the table as Daniel returned, but before he slid into the booth, he hesitated, glancing out the window.
“Well, look who’s here,” he murmured.
Robert half rose, twisting around. Jillian was coming into the pub, followed by Connie Murphy.
“Hey, cuz!” Daniel said, summoning them.
The two women had been talking as they entered, and Robert noticed that Daniel had startled Jillian. For a moment, as she glanced their way, her expression was unmasked.
She was disturbed that they were there. Had she come here with a purpose in mind, and were they about to destroy it?
She quickly masked her surprise and walked over to them, Connie in tow.
“Sit, ladies, I’ll buy you a beer,” Daniel said.
Connie slid in next to Daniel, leaving Jillian no choice but to sit next to Robert. She still seemed uncomfortable around him, he noticed, though pleasant. Courteous but cool—was that how she’d decided to behave around him?
“I’ll have a Guinness,” Connie said. “Though I think dark beer makes you fatter.”
“Fatter than what?” Daniel queried.
“Well, fatter than whatever you were,” Connie told him.
The waitress came up behind them with a full tray. She had seen the two women enter, and there were four glasses of Guinness on her tray.
“All on the house,” she said sweetly, setting the glasses down.
“Thanks,” Jillian said. “And to what do we owe—”
“Just a thank-you for your patronage,” the waitress interrupted cheerfully. “We’re always happy to serve the Llewellyn family here.”
“Well, thank you,” Jillian murmured. “Thank you very much.” Her words were genuine. Robert noticed her eyes when she spoke, and the beautiful flecks of pure emerald in them. Her features were all but flawless. She really was a striking woman.
She didn’t notice his perusal, just sipped her beer, seeming to eye it suspiciously.
The waitress had walked away. Daniel was telling Connie to remind her husband about the meeting they were having with some buyers the next morning.
“I don’t think it’s really that evil,” Robert told Jillian.
She almost jumped, apparently startled that he was watching her. “Evil?”
“You’re staring at your beer as if you think it might bite.”
She flushed and smiled. “No, but I had two…maybe three last night. Then a fortune-teller spooked me, and I passed out and later had nightmares. I’d actually been thinking of something a bit lighter for this evening.”
“Then, we’ll get you something lighter.”
“Oh, no, it’s all right. I don’t think the beer…”
“That the beer caused the situation?”
“I wish it had,” she murmured.
“Do you think I’m evil, then?”
“No, of course not,” she protested, flushing more furiously.
He glanced across the table. Daniel and Connie were still deep in conversation.
“Good, I’m glad. Because I’m not. In fact, I intend to be there for you,” he said. He had meant it lightly, not intending to betray Douglas Llewellyn’s trust in any way. He was disturbed himself by the sudden intensity of his voice, but he spoke again, anyway. “I swear, when you need me, I’ll be there for you.”
The words had an echo.
As if he’d spoken them before, he thought.
And she was staring at him. Completely perplexed.
As if she’d heard him speak those exact same words before.
“Wow, sorry,” he murmured, easing back against the wall. “I didn’t mean to get so scary there. I just meant that…”
“That you’d be there. On my side,” she murmured.
“Yeah.”
“I should probably leave—”
“No, don’t, please.”
“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to come here,” Connie protested, picking up on their conversation.
Jillian didn’t move.
The waitress came back to the table. “You all said that you’d just come for a drink, so I didn’t mention that the special tonight is shepherd’s pie. Really excellent, if you’d like to stay for dinner.”
“Shepherd’s pie,” Daniel said, looking across the table at Jillian. “You know who used to make the best shepherd’s pie in the world?”
She smiled back. “My mother, so I’ve heard.”
Daniel nodded. “I wasn’t all that old myself when she died, but I’ll never forget how good a cook she was. She could whip up a masterpiece with a whole kitchen full of little terrors. And her shepherd’s pie was the best. Let’s stay.”
“Gee, I can’t,” Connie said.
“Jilly?” Daniel said.
“Well…” Jillian murmured.
“Hey, isn’t someone going to say, ‘Sure, Connie, you can stay. Call your mom. We’ll all be so disappointed if you don’t have dinner with us. Maybe Joe can come, too.’”
Daniel grinned at Jillian, then turned toward Connie. “Sure, Connie, you can stay. Call your mom. We’ll all be so disappointed if you don’t have dinner with us. Maybe Joe can come, too.”
“Mr. Llewellyn, you’re a quick study,” she told him. “Excuse me, I’ll make a call.” She slid from the booth.
“Connie, I have a phone right here,” Daniel said.
“I don’t want to sound as if I’m having too much fun. And I may have to beg and plead a bit. Embarrassing in front of friends—and the boss.”
“Robert, can you stay?” Daniel enquired.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” he agreed.
“Is this in his job description, Daniel?” Jillian murmured, sipping her beer, speaking to Daniel, but studying Robert’s eyes.
“Dinner with fellow employees, especially at friendly Irish pubs. Bitch of a job, but hey…” Robert murmured back.
She smiled, the slightest stain of a blush touching her cheeks. Something inside him churned. She was stunning. He felt an almost overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around her and protect her. More than that. The feelings inside him had little to do with protection. She suddenly seemed as hot as the sun. He reached out and touched her cheek. She would fly like a doe at the scent of a hunter! he thought, instantly ruing his action. But she didn’t. She was studying him, as if she barely realized he was touching her—
“So is it shepherd’s pie?”
The waitress had returned. They both jumped away from each other. No one else seemed to notice.
But they knew. They both knew.
Connie came back to the table announcing that Joe would be joining them. He arrived within a few minutes. They talked about work, the city, the weather, politics, inane things.
Robert felt her presence all the while. Heard her laughter. Her perfume was intoxicating. Her laughter was more so. Her warmth seeped into him. Her every smile, her every move, seduced him.
Get a grip, buddy. Get a life, he warned himself.
She was a fire he longed to touch, burning beside him.
When dinner was done, coffee served and they were all ready to leave, he turned to Jillian. “I’ll see you home?”
He was holding his breath. Like an adolescent, afraid she would refuse him.
“Hey, you came with me by cab, remember? Left your car home this morning,” Daniel reminded him.
“I’ll come along and make sure your cabdriver knows the way,” Robert said to her, smiling ruefully at his own lapse.
She hesitated. He felt the constriction of his heart. She needed to hesitate, needed to stay away, he thought briefly.
“Sure,” she said softly.
He almost forgot why he had wanted to come back to Hennessey’s, but just before they left, the women went off to the ladies’ room.
He walked over to the bar. The man on duty was big and dark-haired, with hazel eyes; from his accent, he appeared to be right over from County Cork.
“Excuse me, I was interested in the woman who was in here the other night. Madame Zena.”
“Yeah?” The bartender studied him curiously. “Now, you don’t look like the kind of fellow who’d be into all that.”
“She said some interesting things. I’d like to know more about her.”
“Ah, well, curious thing. She came back for her money just this mornin’. But we’d checked out the address she’d given us and…” “And?”
“Well, that address would put her in the middle of the Hudson River.”
“Do you have a phone number?”
“I don’t, but the owner, he just may. I’ll find out for you, Mr. Marston.”
“Thanks.”
When he turned away from the bar, he saw that Jillian had returned. She was standing with her coat and purse in hand, waiting, watching him. She was alone.
“The others have left,” she said, then asked him, “You want to find the fortune-teller?”
He shrugged. “I’d like to ask her a few questions.”
“Why?”
He took her coat, placed it around her shoulders. “I came back here when I dropped you off last night. She said some strange things to me.”
“Maybe it is something in the beer,” Jillian suggested solemnly.
“I don’t think so.”
“Someone put her up to telling specific fortunes?”
“I thought that might be the case. I’d been supposed to meet Daniel here. I thought maybe he’d told her to say a few things.”
“But he denied it?”
“Yes. He suggested Griff.”
Jillian grimaced. “Yes, he may be your culprit. He’s the eternal joker.”
“He certainly wants people to think so,” Robert said. She arched a brow. “I didn’t come to Llewellyn blind, or without doing a great deal of research. Griff has suggested some of the best marketing policies the company has going. He knows about incentives, and keeping goods out on the market. Shall we?”
They headed out the door. He hailed a cab, then paused after opening the car door. “Want to see where I live?”
“Now?” she asked. She sounded a little breathless.
“It’s not that late, only nine.”
“Well, I, but—”
“Take a chance,” he said softly. “Do something strictly on instinct.”
“If I were going to go on pure instinct, I’d run as fast as I could right now.”
“In what direction?”
“Any direction—away from you.” Her words were wry, but she was smiling.
“Then, you really should come see where I live.”
She was going to say no to him; he was certain. She didn’t.
“I guess it is early,” she said, and slid into the cab.
He took that as her agreement and slid in behind her, giving the cabbie his own address.
When they entered his apartment, he was suddenly anxious for her approval. And for the first time in a very long time, he studied his own surroundings. The floors were hardwood, but covered with thick, rich Persian area rugs. He especially liked the one in front of the hearth. Rich cobalt and crimson, it depicted medieval horsemen racing through dense forests. Tapestry pillows still lay at one end; he had come home and read last night before going to bed, trying to forget the strange things the tarot reader had said to him.
He liked leather—brown leather, well upholstered, comfortable—and books. The room was lined with bookcases. He loved collecting first printings and rare editions, and his two prize pieces were a very old almanac with notations in it by Thomas Jefferson, and an even older New England prayer book with notations by the fire-and-brimstone Puritan minister Cotton Mather. The art on the walls tended to be old or historic, as well; he had a lithograph of the first subway system in the city near the floor-to-ceiling windows that opened to the terrace, prints of works by Raphael, Titian and Michelangelo, and oils he had purchased at shows from contemporary or lesser known artists.
He had opted for a view of the river and the Brooklyn skyline beyond, and a very contemporary entertainment system. He liked music, old and new, and very much appreciated being surrounded by it. The fireplace was real, and after he had taken Jillian’s coat in the foyer, he went straight to the fireplace, surprised to find that he wasn’t his customary competent self. His hands trembled as he set the blaze. She followed him into the room, staring into the rising flames.
“I had the strangest dream about a fire last night,” she told him.
He held very still. Was she telling him not to get any stereotypical romantic notions? He turned, still hunkered down as he stoked the fire, and looked at her. “Should I put it out?”
She flushed, shaking her head. “No, no, I love a fire on a cold night. I was watching you and just thinking…it was such a strange night.”
“Yes, it was a strange night. Well, except for the fact that I don’t really believe in ‘strange.’”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I still think someone set us both up with the tarot card reader. Eventually I’ll find out what went on.”
“You’re not worried about me, are you?”
“Worried about you? In what way?”
She walked over and bent down by him. “You know,” she told him softly, “I’m not at all delicate. I don’t have the blinding desire to seize the company in my own two hands, but I’m not a doormat, either. I’m opinionated, and very strong and determined.”
A slow smile curled his mouth. “I don’t doubt it.”
“Good.”
She straightened and walked to the windows, looking at the view beyond the glass. “The lights twinkle like a million stars.”
He walked over to her. She smelled of soft and subtle perfume, an evocative scent that seemed to reach out and infiltrate his senses.
“Do you like the view?”
“It’s incredible.”
He stood just behind her. “I like to go out on the terrace, preferably when it’s a bit warmer, lie back and look up. All you see are the stars, and sometimes it’s quiet enough that you can imagine all Manhattan gone, and that there’s nothing but the earth, the air and the stars.”
“Nice. I get that out at the estate in Connecticut. Well, you’ll see. So much goes on out there as we get closer to Christmas.” She stopped staring out the window, turned and smiled at him. “I love Christmas at the estate. Everything seems possible. Everyone is relaxed. And there’s something so special about the lights and the music and…”
“And?” he prompted.
“I don’t know. There’s something about Christmastime. All things seem possible.”
“Like it’s a time for miracles?” he murmured.
“Ah, so skeptical,” she said.
“Not skeptical. Just realistic.”
“A doubter,” she judged teasingly, her eyes still alight. “Well, that’s the whole point. You have to believe in miracles for them to be able to happen. Let’s go out.”
“It’s cold.”
“I’ve been cold before.”
“Out there, it’s very, very cold.”
“Ah, but you’ll be there. To warm me.”
The length of his body tightened and his heartbeat quickened. “It’s not just cold. On a night like tonight, it’s freezing.”
Her eyes remained on his. An enigmatic smile still curled her lips. “I’m willing to take a chance. And besides, you have a fire burning in here.”
“All right. We’ll go out. If you wish.”
He opened the locks and slid open the glass. They stepped out.
The wind blew fiercely, enhancing the coldness of the evening, as he had known it would. The location of the building along the river allowed for a strange tunnel of air. Snow had begun to fall. Light, dusting flakes, but wet and bone-chilling. The flakes whirled around them, as if they were standing inside a snow globe. The heavens really were alive with stars that night. A beautiful full moon burst out from behind the snow clouds, then was swallowed again by the dark mist and the snow.
The wind began to moan.
He slipped an arm around her. “Okay, we came out. Now we should go in. You must be freezing.”
She turned in his arms, looking up, about to speak. Her eyes were a brilliant green, her lips curved in a smile. He felt suddenly humbled, but as if he had known her forever, as if she had listened to his hurts and his dreams, as if they had planned a lifetime together. As if he were sworn to buffer her from the winds and the snow.
As if she knew all his strengths, all his weaknesses.
He lowered his head slowly, giving her every chance to move. But she didn’t. And when his lips touched hers, the heat of a thousand fires seemed to burn through him.
He burned….
Against the wind, the snow, the cloud-misted darkness, they seemed to spin. Their kiss deepened; the fire surged. She was stunning, soft, evocative, and more. In some strange way, older than the fierce wind sweeping around them, she was his.
He lifted her.
Her eyes met his again.
And she knew it.
Confidence returned. A touch of arrogance, as well. He felt as if he had conquered the world. He lifted her in his arms, then turned from the wind, from the blinding snow, and entered the apartment, slid the glass closed with his foot and walked with her to the fire, where he lowered them both to the ground.
The heat of the flames shot around them. The rug was plush and soft, and the pillows seemed to surround them, along with the crimson light and warmth of the blaze.
Moments later, he could barely remember their having shed their clothing.
* * *
The minute Daniel entered his apartment, he knew he wasn’t alone. His visitor didn’t move at first, nor was there much light. But he knew he wasn’t alone, and he knew who had come.
He pulled his scarf from around his neck, irritated, as he walked in. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.”
“Why? I told you not to come here.”
“Why?”
“Because this is my home.”
“Surely one friend can visit another in his home.”
“Not mine.”
“Does that mean that we’re not friends, or that your friends don’t come here?” his visitor taunted.
Daniel walked to the bar on the left side of the room, casting his visitor a wary glance as he poured himself a stiff Scotch. “Go home, go away. There’s nothing else to get from me. Not here. Not now.”
“I didn’t come to get things.”
“Then, why?”
“I’m trying to figure out just what it is that you want to get.”
Daniel arched a brow, lifting his glass. “And why do you care? Money is your motivator. You always told me so.”
“How many people tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”
Daniel swallowed his drink in one gulp. “Go home.”
“You don’t know the half of what I’ve done for you, or what I’m willing to do.”
“I don’t want anything.”
The visitor moved close. Looked into his eyes.
“Oh, Daniel, you liar. You awful liar.”
“Don’t—”
“Don’t send me home, Daniel,” his visitor said softly, very softly. “We have so much to talk about.”
Her words trailed off as she reached up and delicately touched his cheek.
Then she walked past him.
Waiting…for him to follow.
He poured another drink. Stood shaking his head. With grim determination, he tossed the drink down.
Then he turned and followed.
Just as she had known he would.
* * *
The first thing Jillian saw when she opened her eyes was one of her shoes.
Then she remembered where she was. And why. She blinked, not sure that she hadn’t been dreaming, that she hadn’t totally lost her mind.
It had been a wonderful night. Wonderful. Incredible. Beyond imagination. He was…Wonderful. Incredible. Beyond imagination.
Her mind didn’t seem able to function beyond those words of assessment. She still felt warm.
And insane. Totally insane. But last night it had felt as if she’d been…compelled. Obsessed. On fire. And as if staying was not only totally natural but inevitable.
The fire had died down, and she would have been cold, if not for him. Stretched out beside her, he provided enough body warmth to dispel any sense of chill. But time had passed, morning had come, and with it, some sense of reason. She jerked up, then realized that he had been awake, lying beside her, not moving lest he disturb her.
Those dark blue eyes were on her looking grave. He seemed far less the corporate man she had surveyed from a distance. Instead, literally stripped down to the essentials as he was, he was incredibly real and down to earth.
The insanity of the situation washed over her, and she scrambled to her feet searching somewhat awkwardly for her clothing. “I—I can’t believe I did this.”
“You didn’t rob a bank or commit murder,” he told her, still watching her.
“No, of course not, but…”
“But?”
She paused at his tone, looking at him.
“You’re sorry about last night?” he asked.
She smiled, aware of the awful tumble of her hair, her arms locked around her chest. “Not at all. I haven’t had such a wonderful…well, I haven’t had such a lovely evening in a long time. Thank you very much. But neither have I ever been so completely irresponsible.”
“Irresponsible?”
“I’m well over twenty-one, of course, and I’ve always done what I’ve chosen to do, but I live with Henry and Grandfather, and they’re both like a pair of old women. They worry if I’m late and don’t call.”
“Oh, that.”
Sleek, confident, he was rising, stretching. She caught her breath. He was perfect, and she was losing her mind. She barely knew him. He was the shark brought in to devour them all. After an evening of, well, perfect, total decadence, she was in love. Or wild infatuation. Or something.
“I should have called.”
He stood before her, smoothed back a lock of her hair, and studied her eyes, as if he were even more surprised than she was that these strange, gripping emotions should have survived the sunrise.
“I called.”
“What?” she asked sharply.
“I called the house and told Henry we’d stopped for a drink, that the snow was coming down hard, and that you might be staying. He agreed that you should stay here, rather than brave the weather.”
“Oh.” He’d taken an awful lot into his own hands.
“I’ll put coffee on.”
“Sounds good.”
“There are two showers. The guest room has everything you’ll need.”
“Ah, you entertain frequently,” she said, trying to make the words light.
He shook his head. “No. Not frequently.” He turned from her, walking toward the kitchen.
* * *
When she emerged, coffee had perked. He joined her in the kitchen a few minutes later, Mr. Corporate America again, perfect in Calvin Klein today, she thought.
He did wear a suit well.
Still, that extra length of hair over his collar would always mean something special to her now, as would knowing where he lived. There was nothing stark or impersonal about his surroundings. She loved the feel of the place, loved knowing that his reading interests were many and varied—despite the fact that the expected sports and business magazines were in the rack by the leather sofa, and that she had found the New York Times just outside his door after she had poured her coffee. Antique volumes elbowed popular fiction and contemporary literature along his shelves.
“Fruit, bagel—or a great doughnut?” he asked her.
“Ah, you’re expecting me to say ‘Just a bit of fruit, please,’ aren’t you?” she murmured.
“No, I think you should go right for the doughnut today.”
“How about the fruit and the doughnut.”
“Sounds good to me.”
He produced both. They sat at the counter in the kitchen and ate together, sharing the paper. It should have been at least a bit awkward, Jillian thought. But it wasn’t. It was fun. And then, as he poured her more coffee, she set the paper down and looked seriously into his eyes.
“Robert?”
“Yes?”
“I wasn’t lying when I said, well…last night was the most wonderful time I’ve had in forever. Maybe in my whole life. But…”
“But?”
“Will you understand if I want to back off?”
He hesitated, looking at her. “I’ll try.”
She ran a finger around the rim of her coffee mug. “You said you don’t believe in ‘strange.’”
“I—”
“Wait, please. Okay, suppose the tarot reader had been set up to tell us both specific things? How do you explain the way I reacted when I saw you? I never, ever pass out.”
He set the coffeepot down slowly, leaned on the counter and studied her seriously. “Most things, they say, are psychological. The human brain, we all know, is the most incredible computer ever. Okay, so I’d just come into the company. You heard wild and ridiculous rumors. Somehow, perhaps, I became something really awful in your mind. And after the whole bit with the tarot reader, the drinks, the whole Halloween thing…”
“I still say it was genuinely strange,” she told him softly. “And then…how do you explain last night?”
His eyes met hers. “I say that every once in a while we’re just incredibly lucky and come across someone else in this world who is unique, so wonderful and exciting, so beautiful and sexy, it’s almost unbearable. And sometimes, by the grace of God, that person feels the same way about us. That’s how I explain it.”
She exhaled slowly.
“Well?”
“I say it’s a darn good explanation. But I’ve still got to ask you to let me go slow. It’s very strange for me in a different way. Friday…Friday marks the anniversary of my husband’s death.”
“I know. And I’m very sorry.”
“I knew he was dying when I married him.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“You don’t want to know why?”
“I’m assuming that you loved him and were willing to take whatever time you might have.”
She smiled. “Well, yes. But I thought…I thought I could make him better. Rather arrogant of me, huh?”
“No. I think it was rather great of you. And I’ll tell you what. I won’t call you. I won’t see you. Except for work. When you’re ready, you let me know. All right?”
She walked around the counter, wrapped her arms around him and kissed him. He held her and kissed her back, and the world began to recede. She wanted more.
He eased back, lifting her chin. “Are you calling me already?” he whispered.
She shook her head.
“I’ll be here. When you need me, I swear, I’ll be here,” he told her.
When he released her, a chill swept through her. She shouldn’t have let him go. The sense of discomfort stayed as they left his apartment, went down and called for his car.
The snow had turned hard and heavy, but the city workers had done a good job. Heavy piles had been pushed aside, leaving the roads and sidewalks clear.
As they drove, Jillian was thoughtful. “So you really don’t believe in ‘strange’?”
“No.”
“Or in miracles?”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
She smiled and looked at him. “How about a bit of magic?”
“Nope.”
He drove into the parking garage at Llewellyn Enterprises.
“But,” Jillian pressed, “you did say it was incredible when you found someone and, ‘by the grace of God,’ that someone felt the same way about you.”
“I did,” he agreed.
She opened her door, exiting before he had cut the engine, then leaned in and looked him straight in the eye. “Then, you already believe in miracles and magic,” she told him.
Then she turned and left.