"If he digs up dirt. A man like that might be too clever to leave any skeletons around." Nancy's mind was racing, searching for possible solutions. The FBI. She could call the FBI—after all, this involved a physical threat to a child. But the threat was only implied, which meant there was no guarantee they could do anything. In the meantime, the story would leak out, Stephen's whole sordid secret would become public, and Brian's life would be ruined. Worse, he still wouldn't be safe. If the authorities couldn't act, or if they did act but couldn't capture every single creep involved, one of them could still go after Brian.
She was his mother. It was up to her to do something.
Abruptly, her hysteria passed, transforming into that calm center at the eye of a hurricane. "I can't let you do this to Brian and me, Stephen. Not anymore."
"Goddammit, Nancy, you're supposed to be my wife!" he exploded. "I need your support. It's just a few days. Keep Brian home. That way, no one can get to him. After Thursday, it'll be over."
"It's over now," she said quietly.
She replaced the phone in its cradle, driven by blind maternal protectiveness. Her marriage was secondary. Brian came first.
She picked up the receiver again, pressed the familiar number.
* * *
Cliff was driving back toward Leaf Brook when his cell phone rang. "Hello," he answered, expecting to hear Stephen's voice.
"Cliff, it's me."
His hands tightened on the wheel. "Nancy, what's wrong?" She was obviously crying.
"I can't talk about it. I've just got to get out of here. Now. Today. I need a favor. A few favors, actually. Can you meet me?"
"Wherever and whenever you want."
"Where are you now?"
"On the Taconic. Three exits north of Leaf Brook."
"Good. Can you come straight to the house? Brian's sick, and I won't leave him alone. Besides, I need every minute of time I can get. I've got to pack for him and for me."
"Pack? Pack for where?"
"I'll tell you when you get here."
* * *
Twenty minutes later, Cliff was sitting in Nancy's kitchen, his mouth hanging open as he reread the note she'd received.
"Christ. This certainly explains why Stephen's been so freaked out about this guy." He lifted his gaze. "What does Walker have on Stephen—or do I need to ask?"
"No, you don't need to ask." Nancy didn't elaborate. This was one subject they never broached, even though Cliff was well aware of its existence. "I don't have details. Nor do I want them. It's the same old dance. I've got to get away—for Brian's sake. I'm scared to death for him." She dashed her hands across her tear-streaked face. "Cliff, the keys to your ski lodge in Stowe, do you have them with you?"
Slowly, Cliff nodded. "Yeah, I have them."
"Would you let me use the place for a while?"
"You know I will."
She swallowed, her jaw set in an uncompromising position. "Now comes the hard part. You've got to promise you won't tell anyone where I am."
"Anyone?" he repeated woodenly. "What about Stephen?"
A choked pause. "Especially Stephen."
Cliff's conflicting loyalties were evident in the torn look on his face. "Do you understand what you're asking me? Stephen's my best friend. When he realizes you and Brian are gone, he's going to be frantic."
"And Brian's my son. He comes first. Look, I won't scare Stephen. I'll leave him a note, explaining what I've done and why."
"Just not where."
"Right. Cliff, if you feel you can't do this, just say so. I won't hold it against you. I have no desire to put you in an untenable position."
"But if I say no, you'll drop out of sight somewhere else. Only then no one will know where you are."
"Exactly."
Blowing out his breath, Cliff rose. He jabbed his hand in his pocket, pulled out the keys. "Take them," he said, stuffing them in her palm. He frowned, feeling how icy her hand was. "Nance, maybe you shouldn't drive. I can take you and Brian up ..."
"No." She cut him off with a wave of her arm. "It's late. You have a life. Besides, you've done enough already." A tentative pause. "Actually, that sounds a lot more magnanimous than it is. Because I'm about to ask you to drive up tomorrow. Brian's got an ear infection. He's taking an antibiotic. The pharmacist spilled some of. the medicine when he was making up the prescription. So he gave me what he had, which was a few days' worth. He's having the rest delivered tomorrow." She stared at the keys in her hand, "I hate to ask this of you ... I know how busy you are ..."
"I'll clear my morning calendar. As soon as the prescription's ready, I'll pick it up and drive it to you at the ski lodge."
Relief coursed through Nancy in wide rivers. "Thank you so much." She went to Cliff, hugged him tightly.
For a brief instant, his arms closed around her, and he held her against him. Abruptly, he released her and stepped away.
A current of communication passed between them.
"Will you be all right?" Cliff asked in a ragged voice.
"Yes." Nancy stared at him for a long moment. "At least, I think so."
"You'll stay in touch?"
"I'll call on your cell phone. Late at night, when I know you're not with Stephen. I won't stay away for long. When this crisis is over ..." Tears filled her eyes. "Who am I kidding? There'll be another one to take its place. And another after that, if Stephen doesn't jump off this merry-go-round and get some help. Cliff, I can't live this way. Not anymore."
"Nancy ..." He swallowed, hard. "Now's not the time to make any rash decisions."
"You're right." She averted her gaze, turning and heading toward the stairs. "I've got to wake Brian. I want to be on the road before dark."
* * *
17
6:05 P.M.
Connor had a late-day meeting in midtown Manhattan. From there, he drove straight to Julia's.
He'd tried to reach Stephen twice, but both times Celeste said he was behind closed doors. No doubt, he was trying to deal with the catastrophe he'd created. He'd better be. For everyone's sake.
Entering the lobby of Julia's building, Connor punched the buzzer, announced himself, and turned his attention to the evening ahead. If Julia's earlier reticence was any indication, he had his work cut out for him. Well, that was fine. Challenge or not, ht had no intention of leaving things hanging. Not when he had a very definite ending in mind.
He gripped the door handle and waited impatiently for the responding buzzer to sound.
It did.
He yanked open the door, strode through the inside lobby, and headed upstairs.
* * *
Inside her apartment, Julia gave herself a once-over in the full-length hall mirror. Her silk blouse was a warm blue and mauve print. Her slacks were a deep midnight blue. Her makeup was light, and her hair was loose, curving softly around her shoulders. The overall effect was pretty much what she'd wanted. Simple but flattering. Not too fussy, not too casual. Attire that would work with anything.
Which was good, since she had no idea where tonight was heading. All she knew was that she and Connor had a great deal to work through if they were going to continue seeing each other.
She turned away from the mirror just as Connor's knock sounded.
Slinging a jacket over her arm, she took a deep breath, walked over, and opened the door.
"Hi," she greeted him.
"Hi, yourself." His gaze flickered over her, and he made no move to disguise his approval. "All set?"
"Um-hum." She stepped into the hall, locked the door behind her. "Where are we having dinner?"
"Actually, I thought we'd go to that little French place by the lake. They've got great quiche, great bread, and great wine. After that, maybe we'll take a walk. It's a beautiful night—not too chilly. And we have a lot to talk about."
Julia nodded. 'That sounds like a good idea." She glanced at his suit, gave him a quizzical look. "Am I un-derdressed?"
"Not a bit. I just came straig
ht from a meeting." He took her jacket, held it as she slipped into it. "Let's go."
The car ride was quiet. Very quiet, with an underlying tension that was palpable. Only a few polite comments were passed, and those pertained to nondescript things like the weather and the day's headlines. Fortunately, the drive was short, so the lapses didn't become unbearable.
Dinner was more conversational. But the strain was still there, stemming from a host of things that needed discussion. Until that discussion happened, the strain wasn't going away.
Connor took on the challenge first. Over coffee, he leaned forward, propped his elbows on the table, and tackled the fundamental issue—or, at least, the one blocking them from moving on to the others.
"Look, Julia, you're dying to bring up Brian and see where things stand," he said. "There isn't going to be any right moment to do so. Let's just grab the bull by the horns and confront the subject, so we can get past it and get on with our evening. Fair enough?"
A flicker of surprise crossed Julia's face. "Fair enough."
"Good. And don't look so astonished. I told you, I can be very direct. I figured you'd noticed that the other night in your apartment."
Just the memory of what he was alluding to made heat shimmer through her. "I noticed. I also remember being pretty direct myself."
"Direct but ambivalent," Connor mdtiified.
"With reason." Juiia didn't deny it. "That kiss—whatever it was a prelude to—overwhelmed me. I don't expect you to understand. As I pointed out, we're very different."
"In some ways. Not in others. Don't kid yourself—I was as blown away by that kiss as you were. The difference is, I wasn't afraid."
"Fine. I stand corrected."
Connor's jaw set, and Julia could almost see his wheels turning as he decided whether or not to push the matter further.
She took the decision out of his hands. "I think we're getting ahead of ourselves. We've got some basics to cover before we start analyzing the chemistry between us."
"Are you so sure of that?"
"Connor..."
"Okay." He waved away her protest. "We'll do it your way. Let's get back to the original subject, Brian." Connor's demeanor altered slightly, became less intimate, more businesslike. "I do understand what's going on in your head, Julia. You care about my nephew. He's a very special kid. You're worried because you see him going through a rough time. Worried enough to alert his parents. You assumed I'd be furious at you for doing that. You were wrong. True, I asked you not to go to Stephen and Nancy. But you made it quite clear to me that if things got out of hand, you planned to do just that. You were honest. You even gave me a heads-up before you called. So, contrary to what you believed, I wasn't angry. You would have found that out if you'd asked. Next time, be sure of your facts before you break a date with me, okay?"
Julia set down her cup, nodding slowly. "That sounds fair."
"It is. Getting back to your commitment to Brian, I find it admirable. More than admirable. I think it's rare and touching. I mean that." One dark brow rose in question. "Any doubts about what I've said so far?"
"No—at least, not yet."
"Fine, then let's move on to the sticky part. Yeah, your telephone call caught Nancy at a bad time last night, but let me assure you, she took your message very seriously. So did Stephen. They plan to do whatever's necessary to help their son. Brian's happiness comes first. It always has, and it always will. Things will work out. In the meantime, the poor kid's got an ear infection. When I saw him earlier, he looked washed out. But he's on an antibiotic, so he'll be better soon. Physically and emotionally. His parents will make sure of it." Connor leaned closer, met Julia's gaze, and held it. "Is that aboveboard enough? Or are you still convinced I'm lying?"
Julia's forehead creased in a frown. "I never accused you of lying, Connor. Only of speaking in partial truths. And not about Brian. Only about how whatever pressure his father's under is affecting his life. I realize you think I'm a busybody ..."
"That's another thing," he interrupted. "You're constantly telling me what I think of you. And you're usually wrong." He reached across the table, capturing her hand and slowly, deliberately, interlacing their fingers. "I don't think you're a busybody. I think you're complicated. There are layers you keep carefully concealed. The rest is an open book—one with a cover that's so beautiful you have half the men in the bleachers at Little League games staring at you. Trust me, I'm one of them. I think you're frank, dedicated, and caring, and it drives you crazy when others aren't. I also think you're passionate—and I don't mean only in your work. Teaching just happens to be a safe outlet for your passion. There are other outlets that aren't nearly as safe. Me, for example. Or, rather, us. What happens between us scares you to death."
"Wow." Julia sucked in her breath. "That's quite an analysis. Are you sure you're not the one with the degree in psych?"
A slow grin. "Nope, I'm the cold-blooded venture capitalist who devotes all his energies to making money."
"Not all your energies, apparently."
He chuckled. "No, not all of them." His thumb caressed her palm. "So, now that we've cleared the air, are you still not sure if you like me? Or trust me?"
Julia couldn't ignore the frisson of pleasure that shot through her at his touch. She just wished she could separate her involuntary responses to him from her more rational thought processes. She knew that his explanation about Brian had just brushed the tip of the iceberg. But so what? Sketchy or not, his words were sincere. As for the rest, well, when it came down to it, she had no right to expect him to open up to her about his family's inner workings. And more to the point, was it his decision to be close-mouthed that was freaking her out, or was it something more fundamental, like the fear he'd described moments ago?
"Julia?" he prompted.
She drew a slow, shaky breath. "At this particular moment, I'm not sure of anything—which seems to be becoming a habit when I'm around you."
"I like the sound of that."
"I'm not sure I do."
Connor's thumb stilled, and his fingers tightened around hers. 'Take that walk with me."
It might just as well have been an invitation to bed, it sounded so intimate. And Julia was far from immune. But she wanted to take this walk for more than just romantic reasons. She needed to talk to Connor, to see what made him tick, and to see if he could understand what made her tick.
Nodding, she pushed back her chair and rose. "I'm ready."
They left the restaurant as quietly as they'd arrived and with the same underlying tension, although this time the tension was rooted in anticipation rather than strain.
The lake was quiet, moonlight glistening off it in a golden haze. A narrow path ran the full perimeter, close to the water's edge, and newly budding trees lined the path on either side.
Connor took Julia's arm and led her away from the restaurant. He released her when they reached the path, and they strolled along, side by side, acutely aware of each other, though they made no further move to touch.
This time, it was Julia who broke the silence. "You were right. I am scared to death."
"I know." He slowed the pace of their walk, concentrating on the essence of the conversation. "What I don't know is why. We're different. Okay, fine. Why is that such a deterrent? Have all the guys in your life been so much like you? Greg Matthews sure as hell isn't."
"Greg was never really in my life, so it didn't matter. Besides, I wouldn't exactly put you two in the same category."
"Meaning?"
"You're a Stratford."
"So's Brian. You're not afraid of him."
Julia shot him a look. "Very funny."
"I'm not being funny."
"Nor am I. I'm being honest You come with a whole persona, not just a high-powered career. It's foreign to me—and it's daunting."
Without warning, Connor came to a dead stop, pivoting around and gripping her shoulders. "You're afraid of me because of my name? Because I'm written up in the
newspapers as a chip off the old block? Because my father built a financial dynasty?"
Julia hadn't expected such a vehement response. Connor looked furious, as he had when Cheryl Lager challenged his integrity.
"You've built quite a dynasty of your own," she reminded him.
"Your point being?"
"Connor, it isn't your name or your money. It's all of it—who you are, how you were raised, the way you view life. You think idealism is a stupid waste of time. I think it's the only salvation we've got."
"Maybe you're right. Maybe it is. Maybe I've been around the wrong people for too long. Maybe meeting you has changed that." His fingers tunneled through her hair, and he urged her closer, tipped her face up to his. "Dammit, Julia, life doesn't come in neat little packages. Surprises happen. We're one of those surprises. So stop putting up walls to stop this from happening. Because you can't. Neither of us can."
He lowered his head, his mouth covering hers, taking it with the same utter lack of preliminaries as last time. His lips parted hers, and his tongue pressed deep, stroking hers in a hot caress that ended all conversation.
This moment had been building since Saturday, and suddenly it was all that mattered—not only to Connor but to Julia, too. She heard herself moan, and then she was kissing him back, her mouth just as frantic as his, her hands gripping his jacket, knotting in the lapels to anchor herself. Connor wasn't satisfied with that. He caught her arms, lifted them around his neck, bringing her against him as he did.
The kiss exploded. Julia was a mass of nerve endings, her lips wild under his, her entire body shaking as she strained for more. Dimly, she felt Connor back her against a tree, pin her there with the powerful weight of his body. His palm cupped her breast, his thumb rubbing her nipple in dizzying circles. His muscles were taut, his breath coming in hard rasps, and, through the confines of their clothes, his erection throbbed against her belly. The pressure felt wonderful—but it wasn't enough. She needed to be closer, to feel more.
With a broken, frustrated cry, she began struggling, trying to move higher, to shift their bodies into just the right position. Connor made a strangled sound that was part laugh, part groan, and he gripped her bottom, lifted her up, and fitted her against him.