“Not at all. I’ll promise not to write about you if you’ll promise to let us get to know each other … without prejudice.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why would you give up your idea for a book that has been your driving motivation to this point just for a couple of weeks in my company?”
“Because you were right about me. I hate unsolved mysteries. What the public does or doesn’t know about you doesn’t particularly concern me, but I very badly want to understand you.”
She was still frowning. “Why?” she asked again.
“Because… you fascinate me,” he answered, turning his head to study her profile. “Maybe it’s that larger-than-life part of you—”
“Stage presence,” she dismissed impatiently.
“No. No, there’s more to it than that. Saber, you wouldn’t believe me if I explained what I’m feeling, and I’m no more anxious than any other man to look like a fool. So you’ll just have to accept that I want to get to know you. Period.”
For the first time, Saber’s attention to piloting the jet was only automatic; she was entirely caught up with what Travis was saying. After a long moment, she said, “Maybe you’d better define your idea of ‘accompanying’ me for a couple of weeks.”
Bluntly, he said, “I’m not asking you to sleep with me to avoid my writing the book. No strings, Saber. The only promise I demand is that you treat me as you would any man who was interested in you as a woman. The only promise I’ll give is that I won’t write about you.”
As blunt as he, she asked, “You’re trying to tell me you’re attracted to me? That’s why you’re willing to give up the book idea?”
Amused at her dispensing with the euphemistic niceties, he nodded. “That can’t surprise you, surely?”
Saber, with a year of superstardom behind her and twenty-five years before that of male attention, wasn’t surprised; men found her attractive, and she would have had to be blind not to know that. But to say that she distrusted Travis Foxx’s professed admiration of her would have been a gross understatement.
“I don’t trust you,” she said matter-of-factly.
Travis chuckled. “I know that. But you have a choice, Saber. You can refuse my terms, which will only make me very determined to find out what I can about your mysterious past—and I think it only fair to warn you that I have sources of information you wouldn’t think possible. Or you can accept my terms, thereby keeping your past hidden as long as you want.”
Saber was smiling now. “I wonder,” she said thoughtfully, “if you’re counting on the well-known feminine response to a challenge. Which are you hoping for? That I’ll dare you to uncover my sordid past? Or that I’ll invite your wonderfully uninquisitive self into my life—however temporarily?”
“Touché,” he replied, laughing. “You’re a very sharp lady, Miss Duncan. We both know I plan to get my answers by whichever path. So it’s up to you.”
“Isn’t it, though.” Her tone was dry.
Sobering, Travis said, “In all honesty, I’d rather spend time with you than spend time researching you. And in the former case, you have the satisfaction of knowing that your past will remain hidden to the public.”
“You’re very sure you can … persuade me to tell you all about myself, aren’t you, Travis?”
“Quite sure,” he said coolly.
Her smile widened. “I wonder which of us is more stubborn,” she murmured.
“Shall we find out?”
Saber was not a reckless woman, but the challenge in this man’s green eyes was impossible to ignore. “Let’s,” she said suddenly, briskly. “And devil take the hindmost.”
Travis smiled and nodded. That the lady looked upon this as a challenging game was obvious; that his own motives in playing were quite serious was something he had no intention of trying to persuade her at this early stage.
An expert sportsman, Travis was hunting this time with more than a story at stake. Much more.
The Detroit performance went off without a hitch, as Travis was privileged to see from the wings. Saber had treated him casually and companionably all day, allowing him to watch the rehearsal and take her to lunch. She’d seemed not the least bit on guard, but Travis had realized that her serene silver-gray eyes were shields in and of themselves.
As for himself, he shelved questions about the past and simply absorbed the present. He noted that the members of Saber’s band treated her with affection and respect. The feeling of family was unmistakable and, for Travis, significant, considering that these people lived in the fast-paced and—as far as the public was concerned—decadent world of popular music. They were also quite protective of her: more than one suspicious eye had been cast at him when she’d casually introduced him.
Travis met suspicion with blandness and watched quietly from the sidelines studying Saber’s professionalism and marveling at her talent. He didn’t attempt to flatter her but acknowledged to himself that her manager had been quite right in his belief that the world would fall at her feet.
After a late and somewhat quiet dinner at their hotel, Travis left her at the door to her room. And when the Lear departed Detroit the next morning, he was beside her in the cockpit.
The day in Chicago went pretty much as the day before, with rehearsals and a flawless performance, then a late dinner and polite good-nights.
It didn’t occur to Travis until then that he didn’t know where “they” were going on Saber’s vacation. Nor did it occur to him that since he’d made no reservation at this hotel, a room couldn’t be found for him. But so it was. Five separate conventions were being held in the hotel, and even the broom closets, the desk clerk assured him in a harassed voice, were occupied.
Silently berating himself for not having arranged things earlier in the day, Travis recovered his bag from the luggage room. Then, after a glance at his watch and a moment’s thought, he headed for the elevator again. Five minutes later he was knocking on Saber’s door.
After a moment, the night chain rattled and she pulled the door open, having obviously looked through the security peephole. “Hello,” she said politely.
Intellectually, he realized there was nothing even remotely sexy about her nightgown. It was a flannel affair, high-necked and long-sleeved, deep blue in color and reaching down to her ankles. Still, curiously, Travis felt his toes curl inside his shoes and concentrated on straightening them out; he was so astonished at his own reaction that it was several long moments before he remembered why he was standing there.
Clearing his throat, he said, “You have a two-room suite. Right?”
“Right.” She leaned against the doorjamb, gazing at him with elaborate politeness.
“Then would you mind very much if I borrowed your couch?” He assumed his best beaten-spaniel look. “The hotel doesn’t have a closet to spare, and since it’s past midnight …”
“Did you plan this?” she asked in a mildly interested voice.
“No, I swear.”
She nodded and stepped back with a slight gesture. “You’re welcome to the couch.”
Her immediate acceptance surprised Travis somewhat, but when he’d followed her into the living room and placed his garment bag over a chair, he saw what he’d missed before: she was exhausted.
“I ordered some coffee,” she said idly as she sat down at the table by the window. She picked up a cup from the tray in front of her. “There’s another cup if you’d like some.”
Travis crossed slowly to sit down in the chair across from hers, his eyes intent, concerned. “I’d say the last thing you needed was coffee.”
She sipped the hot liquid, her faintly smiling eyes meeting his over the rim of her cup. “It helps me stay awake long enough to unwind,” she said. “Otherwise I sleep, but I don’t rest.”
He realized abruptly what this tour must have cost her. Twelve performances, twelve cities, twelve days. Her face, bare of makeup, was so pale it looked translucent, the cool
tautness now relaxed in weariness. The strength and power of her onstage and her cheerful energy offstage had deceived him into believing she was almost invincible.
Saber smiled a little beneath his scrutiny. “I look like a hag, huh?” she asked, her tone one of wry self-realization.
“You look—very tired.”
“What nice manners you have, sir.”
Travis ignored the gentle mockery. “Your manager ought to be shot for putting you through this kind of tour,” he said flatly.
“Fair’s fair. It was my idea; Phil tried to discourage me.”
“Then you should be shot.”
She shook her head. “A little tiredness is a small price to pay for the exposure.”
He studied her thoughtfully. “Funny, but I get the impression you don’t care a bit for your fame.”
“I don’t.” She met his gaze, her own unwavering. “But I do care for my success.”
“You’re a star. You perform for sellout crowds; your records sell in the millions; you’ll never be able to spend all the money you’ve made. What more is there to work for?”
Saber, more weary than she’d realized, answered without remembering that Travis was a man to be wary of. “Not more. Never less. I have to prove—” She broke off, vaguely aware of danger.
“Prove what?” he asked softly. “To whom?”
“Prove I can do it,” she answered. “Prove to him I can make it—” For a moment, her tired gray eyes stared into his. Then a veil dropped. She set her cup down and rose to her feet. “I’m going to bed,” she said distantly. “See you in the morning.”
Travis, on his feet in an instant, reached out a hand to catch her wrist before she could turn away. “Saber, I’m sorry. You’re too tired to think, and I had no business taking advantage of that.” Honestly contrite, he was aware that his voice was anxious but was too worried over having unthinkingly probed to be concerned that he might be betraying himself.
She looked at him, a little puzzled, a little amused. “You’re … a strange man, Travis,” she said. “I can’t quite figure you out.”
He lifted his free hand to touch her cheek. “Then don’t try,” he urged softly. “Just accept that I … care about you.” It was more than he’d meant to say, but she looked so tired and worn and he couldn’t stop the words.
Conscious of the warmth of his hand against her skin, Saber was finding it difficult to think. She gazed up into green eyes that were warm and concerned and something else she couldn’t identify, wondering dimly why the room had shrunk so that he seemed to fill it. He was taller than she’d realized, his eyes greener, his face more handsome.
Why hadn’t she noticed that before now?
Travis stepped forward abruptly, his hand cradling the nape of her neck, his fingers tangling in her thick hair; he bent his head, and his lips found hers. He kissed her as if she were something infinitely precious and fragile, a tender kiss over almost before it began.
“Good night, Saber. Sleep well.”
Silently, she turned to the bedroom. Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it for a moment. She needed to think, there was something very important she needed to think about, but her mind was blank. Vaguely she heard Travis on the phone requesting an extra pillow and blanket. She couldn’t think about that, either. Sighing unconsciously, she got into bed and turned out the lamp on the nightstand. She was asleep almost instantly.
In the other room, Travis placed a second call, this one to the harried hotel operator to ask if Saber had requested a wake-up call. Learning that she had placed one for eight A.M., he canceled it, representing himself as her manager. The operator, with a hotel full of merry conventioneers, accepted his authority without question.
Then Travis settled back to brood over the identity of the “him” Saber was so determined to prove herself to.
When he finally fell asleep, after lying awake long into the night, Travis slept hard. And he was considerably disgruntled when a hand shook his shoulder and ruthlessly yanked him from a pleasurable dream involving gray eyes and a ridiculously sexy blue flannel nightgown.
“Travis? Travis.”
Growling peevishly, he pulled his pillow around his ears to shut out the sadistic voice, groping mentally for his lost dream. Recapturing the image of gray eyes and blue nightgown, he soon became engrossed in the natural progression of things, only to sit bolt upright with a yelp, wide awake, when icy water was dumped unceremoniously on his face.
“What the hell!”
“Good morning,” Saber offered sweetly. She stood gazing down at him, holding an empty glass in one hand and smiling without an ounce of compunction.
Travis wiped the water from his face and glared at her, automatically taking note of her jeans and sweater and of the fact that she was wide awake and seemingly well rested. “What’s the big idea?” he demanded.
“When you sleep, you don’t fool around, do you?”
“So you poured water on me?”
Saber waved the empty glass in a slight gesture. “Well, since I couldn’t wake you up any other way, and since the brunch I ordered is due to arrive in about half an hour, I thought I’d try the water. Worked, too.”
“Brunch?” he ventured, belatedly remembering where he was.
“Uh-huh. Oddly enough, I didn’t get my wake-up call. It’s now ten-thirty, and you have half an hour to make yourself presentable.”
“I’m not presentable?”
“You have a morning stubble,” she said.
Travis found himself grinning. “Not very diplomatic, are you?”
“The word is honest. If you want pretty speeches, you’ve got the wrong girl.”
He cast aside his blanket and swung his long legs to the floor. “Funny, I dreamed I had the right one. She was wearing a ridiculous flannel nightgown and worshiped the ground I walked on.”
“Fancy that. Must have been a lady of scanty intellect.”
“You’ve already poured water on me; don’t compound the felony.”
She indicated the bathroom with a finger not wrapped around the glass. “Would you please go shave and put on something a bit more decent than those pajama bottoms?”
“Are they getting to you?” he asked with a mock leer.
“No,” she replied, deadpan. “But one never knows how other people will react, and the waiter’s coming, after all.”
Travis sighed and held up a hand in surrender. “Uncle! From now on, I’ll know better than to fence with you in the morning.”
Saber inclined her head in gracious acknowledgment. She put the glass down and began folding the blanket as he gathered his things and disappeared into the bathroom. When he emerged some moments past the allotted time, he was shaved, showered, and dressed, and the door had just closed behind the departing waiter.
She greeted him with, “Hope you don’t hate omelets,” sounding as if she didn’t much care whether he hated them or not.
“No,” he said politely, taking his seat across from her at the table. “Love them, in fact.”
Pouring their coffee, Saber sent him an amused look. “A question?”
“By all means.” He noted that she was fixing his coffee just as he liked it, after having seen him drink coffee only once.
“Did you cancel my wake-up call?”
Travis accepted the cup she held out. “Guilty. I thought you could probably use the sleep.”
“Thoughtful of you. Is that your game plan, by the way?”
Picking up his fork, he looked at her, then smiled. “You’re a suspicious wench.”
“You’ll have to forgive me. It’s just that I’ve learned one of life’s ironclad rules.”
“Which is?”
“People who claim they’re after nothing are always after something.”
Serious now, Travis studied her as she apparently concentrated on her meal. “And so you think I’m after more than your company?”
“It crossed my mind.”
“Such as?”<
br />
“I haven’t figured that out yet.”
“The truth about your past, perhaps?” he offered slyly.
“I know you’re after that. And something else as well.”
“You’re a very perceptive lady.”
“Thank you.” She looked at him. “What are you after, Travis?”
“Would you believe me if I said I was chasing a dream?”
Something flickered briefly in her eyes, then died. “No.”
“Cynical,” he mocked softly.
“I don’t make pretty speeches,” she said. “I don’t like hearing them.”
“Yes,” he said thoughtfully. “I imagine you’ve been flattered quite a lot in your life, haven’t you?” When she said nothing, but only continued to gaze at him steadily, Travis sighed. “And you don’t take any bait dangled in front of you, do you?”
She answered that, a twinkle in her eyes. “No, I don’t. I’ve done a bit of fishing, Travis, and I’m well aware that bait always contains a hook. So why don’t you just reel your line in?”
“I will … if you’ll drop your guard.”
Saber tossed her napkin aside and sat back, studying him intently. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, I would,” he replied. “Because as enjoyable as it is to fence with you, Saber, the mental exercise isn’t bringing me a bit closer to the woman I want to know. No pretty speeches. No Spanish coin. I want to get to know you very badly, and this past of yours—which we’ve both made too damn much of—is standing in my way.”
“So if I drop my guard,” she murmured, “you’ll leave my past where it belongs—in the past?”
He nodded. “For the time being, at least. I’m being honest. There may well come a time when I’ll need to know who you were yesterday; right now, I want to know who you are today.”
“Revising our bargain somewhat?”
“No. The bargain was that I’d agree not to write about you if you agreed to treat me simply as a man who’s attracted to you. That hasn’t changed.”
After a moment, Saber spoke very slowly. “During the past few months, I’ve held to a grueling schedule in the recording studio and on the road. I planned a month’s vacation in a quiet place, where I intend to relax and forget schedules.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t want to have to be on guard for two weeks out of that month. I don’t want to be afraid that every innocent word I say will be probed and examined as a possible clue to my past. If I find that happening, Travis, then I’ll consider that I’ve fulfilled my end of the bargain—and that’ll be the end of it.”