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Trudy sighed, just loud enough to divert his attention for an instant. “I see,” she said, “there’s no need for an introduction.”
Two
“You know my name?”
Reid took a step closer. “Only that it’s Rachel. Nothing more.”
She looked the same to him, the only difference being her mood. The first time she’d been smiling, carefree, loose. Now she was nervous, uptight, strung out. But the eyes were the same, a soft gray rimmed in a black so dark it matched the color of her hair.
The buzzer sounded and Charlotte’s voice filtered through the intercom. “Mazelli on line one.”
As if to insure that she wouldn’t disappear again, Reid kept his eyes riveted on Rachel as he walked to his desk and lifted the receiver.
He pointed to her. “Don’t move,” he said, then pressed the button for line one. “Yes.” He tapped his fingers on the leather blotter on his desk and listened for a short time. “Fine. Send me a bill.” He looked up at Rachel, and their eyes locked. “Yes. That’s right. I no longer need your services.”
Reid cradled the receiver. He remained stone-still, staring at Rachel as if she were a phantom. Rachel stared back. Trudy coughed. “Maybe I should introduce you,” she said. “Rachel Morgan, Reid James.”
“Hello,” Rachel said softly.
“Hello? That’s all you have to say to me? After what you’ve done?”
Rachel looked to Trudy then back to Reid. “I—I don’t understand. What have I done?”
Reid stood for a moment, mouth agape. He realized what he must look like and purposely shut it.
“This is a joke, right?”
Rachel shook her head slowly. “No.”
Turning to Trudy, Reid said, “Would you mind leaving us alone for a little while?”
Trudy hesitated. “I don’t know if I should. She’s not used to your rages, Reid. You look like you’re ready to kill someone.”
“Go along, Trudy, and don’t worry. I gave up killing women years ago.”
Trudy shook her head and gave him a patronizing grin. “Maybe I should stay.”
“No. There are things I need to say that are private.”
“I think I know what they are,” Trudy said.
“Do you?” Reid said with an arch of his brows. “That’s interesting, because I don’t.”
His fury was simmering, evidently close to the surface. Trudy glanced at Rachel. She was shaking.
“It’s all right,” Rachel said to her friend, her voice trembling. “Go. Please.”
Trudy walked to the door. “All right. But I’m waiting right outside. Scream if you need me.” She paused with her hand on the doorknob and turned to look at Reid. “That goes for either one of you.”
When she was gone, Reid stepped from around his desk. He walked over to the sitting area and placed his hand on the back of a Queen Anne chair.
“Sit,” he said softly, and when she didn’t move right away, added, “Please.”
It was not a word he used often, if at all, and it didn’t roll off of his tongue easily, but he didn’t want to scare her away. Not again. If that’s what he had done the first time. He didn’t know, and that was the problem. He had to know who she was and what had happened. Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he wasn’t about to blow this opportunity, this tremendous stroke of good luck, and lose her again.
“Please,” he repeated, and this time she complied, moving toward him, then around him before sitting in the chair.
He sat on the couch across from her with only the width of the coffee table separating them.
Rachel placed her hands on her knees, palms down. “Can you tell me what happened that night?” she asked.
Reid arched his brows. “I was going to ask you that question.”
Rachel shook her head. “I don’t know. I thought it was all a dream up until now.”
“A dream?”
“Yes... You see, I became quite ill after. The flu or some such virus. Whatever the case, I was in pretty bad shape. I passed out the night of the party, and I’m afraid I don’t remember very much about it. Trudy said you were the host.”
“Yes... Our new perfume launch party at the armory. We met there,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “We talked...”
“Yes?”
Was she for real? Did she actually think that he would believe she didn’t remember any of this?
“We left together.” Rachel’s eyes widened. She leaned forward, urging him on with a nod of her head. “We walked for a while,” he continued, “and ended up by my place. Do you remember any of this?”
“No,” she said softly. “What happened then?”
“And then you came with me upstairs.”
“To your apartment?”
“At first.”
“And after?”
“To my bedroom.”
Rachel’s gaze dropped to her hands. She felt the heat rise to her face.
“Look at me,” he said, and she lifted her eyes. “You really don’t remember?”
“No. I was on antibiotics. I had something to drink. The punch, I think—”
“The punch was almost all vodka.”
“That’s what Trudy said. I don’t know if the combination of the two had something to do with it, but I blacked out the rest of the evening.”
“You seemed perfectly all right.” He paused. “More than all right.”
“But I wasn’t.”
“You don’t remember making love—”
“No...yes...but only afterward. I thought it was a dream.”
“You said that. What made you change your mind?”
Rachel blew out a breath to steady her nerves. She was trembling so badly she had to sit back in the chair and grip the armrests to stop herself from visibly shaking.
“Something’s happened.”
“What’s happened?” he asked.
“I’m pregnant.”
Reid stared at her. He didn’t think anything could shock him more than her unexpected appearance. But she’d topped that. And then some. He kept his expression neutral, no easy feat when his heart was thumping so hard in his chest he thought the buttons on his shirt would pop.
“And you’re here to claim that I’m the father?”
“There’s no other explanation,” she said.
“I could think of a few.”
Rachel’s hands formed into fists. She had to remain in control. This was difficult enough without her losing it. Of course he would be skeptical. Who wouldn’t be? Yet he had a right to know, whether he believed her or not.
She licked her lips. “I know what you’re thinking—”
“You haven’t the faintest idea what I’m thinking,” he said with a raw politeness that bordered on contempt.
“Yes, I do. You think I’m after money or something. Well, I’m not. I don’t want anything from you.” She stood. “When Trudy and I finally figured out what must have happened, I asked her to bring me here. I thought you had a right to know. No more, no less.” Rachel eased herself away from the chair and headed for the door. “I won’t bother you anymore.”
“Stop right there,” he said.
“I’m not one of your underlings, Mr. James, you can’t order me around.”
“Come back.” When she didn’t move, he gritted his teeth and added, “Please...”
Rachel looked across the room into crystal green eyes. The intensity of his gaze was overpowering and it propelled her forward. She stopped a few feet from him. “I have nothing else to say to you,” she said.
“Well, I have some things I’d like to say to you, if you don’t mind.”
“Go ahead.”
Reid moved away from the couch. His mind was reeling. With the ease and grace of a man used to getting his own way all the time, he walked over to his desk. He lifted a gold cigarette case off the mahogany top and flipped it open, extracting one and slipping it between his lips.
“Cigarette?” he asked, then added, “No. I forgot. You don’t smoke. Tried it once when you were sixteen and made yourself sick.”
Rachel’s chin came up as a chill ran down her spine. She had told him things about herself. Details about her life. Yet all she had from him came through Trudy and what she’d read in the papers. All secondhand.
Except, that is, for the child she carried.
A wave of weakness overcame her and she swayed. “I’d like to sit down,” she said in a small voice, and moved toward the leather chair in front of his desk.
“How about some coffee? Or tea?” he asked.
“Tea would be wonderful.”
Reid pressed the intercom and placed the order with Charlotte.
“You don’t look well,” he said, concern in his voice.
“I’m fine. Just a little dizzy.” She looked up at him. “Normal, I’m told, under the circumstances.”
He gave her a curt nod and lit his cigarette. He took a long drag into his lungs as Charlotte brought in a cup of tea on a tray. She carried his finest china service, the one reserved for important guests, foreign dignitaries and the like. Reid caught his assistant’s eye and questioned her with a glance. She smiled, a Mona Lisa smile that said she knew too much.
Damn Trudy. He’d better nip this bit of news in the bud or the entire building would know about it before five o’clock quitting time.
“Thank you,” Rachel said as she accepted a cup from Charlotte.
“You’re welcome, dear,” Charlotte said. “If you need anything else, just call.”
“That will be all, Charlotte,” Reid said, dismissing her.
She smiled again as she left, and Reid gave her an imperceptible shake-of-the-head warning before returning his attention to the woman across from him.
As Rachel doctored the tea, Reid studied her through a haze of smoke, his eyes hooded, his brain racing. He attempted to conjure up that night once again, more pragmatically this time, without the warm, fuzzy feeling that always seemed to engulf him whenever he thought of her.
That day had been hell. By five o’clock he’d had a raging headache, and the last thing he’d wanted to do was to make the obligatory appearance at the perfume launch party. But he’d relented and agreed to attend. He’d milled around the room several times, shaking hands, making nice to all the media people. The place was packed to capacity, invitations having spawned invitations like rabbits in a warren. They’d rented the armory for the event, which was only blocks from his town house, and the temptation to cut out early was too great to ignore. He had been just about to do that when he’d spotted her.
Like a scene out of an old movie, the hoards of people had faded into the background as their eyes met across the room. Without much thought, he’d changed direction and walked over to her. She’d smiled, and the pounding in his head had seemed to subside. They’d talked party talk, and she’d made him laugh. No easy feat under the best of circumstances, but that night of all nights it had seemed almost miraculous.
He’d asked her to get some air, go for a walk, and she’d accepted. Moving slowly through the crowd, they’d managed to leave without anyone noticing. The night was warm, humid, and after a block or two their clothing had stuck to them. He hadn’t planned it, but they’d ended up near his town house. He’d invited her up for a cool drink, and she’d accepted.
The memories swirled around him as he gazed across the desk at her sipping her tea. She glanced at him over the rim of the cup.
The warm fuzzies returned. He couldn’t remember the rest of the evening without them. She’d been so...real. They’d talked as if they’d known each other all their lives. When she’d commented on the decor, he’d taken her on a tour of the town house, ending up in his top-floor bedroom. She’d teased him about the size of his bed, and he’d jokingly told her to test it out. With lazy informality, she’d stretched out on his bed, luxuriating in the feel of his white satin sheets.
It was then that their eyes had met once again and the same tug that had pulled him to her at the party had brought him to sit on the edge of the bed.
She’d been so unselfconscious that it had seemed like the most natural thing in the world to lean forward and kiss her.
And then he’d lost it. All sense of time, place, reality...control. They’d made love with such freedom, such comfort, it had seemed as if they’d been at it for years.
Which was why he couldn’t forget it.
And if it had been that special for him, it had to have been that way for her, as well.
