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“I certainly hope you’re not speaking from experience,” she replied. But he’d come close to her vulnerable spot, and flippancy wasn’t what she felt, as the memory of Roland Farr’s cunning floated back to her.
In her room, she got a handful of gingersnaps and crawled into bed with Jake’s book, For the Sake of Diplomacy, hoping to find something of the man in his work. She didn’t relish the idea that her interest in him might exceed the professional preoccupation that she normally brought to her work and hoped she hadn’t set a trap for herself. Words danced before her in black-and-white confusion, challenging her to concentrate. When Jacob Covington’s face appeared among the tangled alphabets, she closed the book.
* * *
He’d been ungracious in not asking if she’d like company, Jake decided, and rang her room. “I forgot to ask whether you have friends here, Allison. I’d hate to think of your not taking advantage of this great town. So if you won’t be busy this evening, how about spending a couple of hours with me?”
“Sure. What will we do?”
He welcomed her honest, straightforward answer, because he disliked women who played games with him. She had nothing planned and didn’t pretend that she did have.
“After we eat, we can take in a show, go to one of the jazz clubs in the Village, watch the skaters in Rockefeller Plaza, whatever. Depends on how you want to dress.”
“I vote for food and skaters,” she said, causing him to wonder why she hadn’t suggested the music. He’d been certain she’d choose the jazz, and he’d have proof that he had indeed seen her at Blues Alley, but he didn’t exclude the possibility that her choice could be a ruse.
He hung up, made dinner reservations at a small West Side restaurant, and remembered to call his mother.
“I’ll be down there in a couple of weeks,” he told Annie Covington.
She’d be glad to see him, she said and then voiced what he knew was her real concern. “Son, have you found a nice girl? I hate to think of you always by yourself.”
“Not yet. You’ll be the first to know.” He wanted to get off the subject, because she wouldn’t hesitate to complain about the grandchildren he hadn’t given her.
“Married men live longer than loners,” she warned. “And don’t let your success keep you out of church, Jake; it’s prayers that got you where you are.”
“Plus hard work and my parents’ support,” he said, gave her his phone number, and added, “Don’t forget to keep my itinerary posted on your refrigerator, in the bathroom, and beside your bed.”
Her hearty laugh always filled him with joy, reminding him that she no longer struggled in abject poverty because he made certain that she had every modern home convenience, more money that she could use, and that she worked only if she wanted to.
“That falls pretty easily off your tongue,” she told him. “But don’t you forget that for the first forty-five years of my life—the refrigerator was a zinc tub filled with ice when we could get it, the bathroom was wherever you set yourself down, and the bed had to be moved when it rained. You send me more money every month than I used to make in a year. Your father would be proud of you, son.”
“Thanks, Mom. Tune in to NBC tomorrow evening between seven and nine.”
* * *
If Jake needed grounding, he could trust his mother to keep him in touch with the good earth, and later that evening he had cause to appreciate this. While still a child, Jake had learned tolerance. He’d discovered early that his size invited challenges from the tough boys in his school and even some of his teachers. The experiences had shaped his personality and taught him the wisdom of soft-spoken, nonthreatening manners. Gentleness came naturally, but it threatened to abandon him when the maître d’ at Dino’s rushed forward to assist Allison as though she were unescorted. He liked to know that other men found the woman in his company interesting, but when one after the other stared beagle-eyed at Allison, his temper began a rare ascent. Quickly, he clamped down on it.
She was seated at the small table for two, and he observed her closely. Jet-black hair cascaded around her shoulders, setting off her smooth ebony complexion and large dreamy eyes that promised a man everything. Her simple red dress heightened the beauty before him; and though she seemed unaware of it, she’d captured the attention of nearly every man present. He smiled to himself; at least he wasn’t the guy on the outside. He was about to remark that he liked her hair down, when it hit him that it was indeed she who he had seen in Blues Alley.
Watch it, Jake. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt the need to give himself that lecture. “You’re different with your hair down, softer and—”
“Approachable?”
She had more red flags than anybody he knew. “I was going to say vulnerable, but you wouldn’t like that either, would you? Let’s be friends for tonight and leave aside the one-upmanship, shall we?” He glanced up from his menu for a look at the smoke he expected to see, but to his surprise, he caught her in an unguarded moment, her vulnerability unsheltered. He folded the menu and put it on the table. She might make him eat the words, but he had to say them.
“You’re so beautiful. Lovely. I’d give anything if we’d met under more favorable circumstances.”
“Thank you...I think. We’re going to keep our relationship a business one, Jake. No one knows better than I the folly of doing otherwise.”
He took a few seconds to ponder what she’d revealed. “Nothing’s going to happen that we don’t want to happen. So, there’s no point in losing sleep over it.”
They gave their orders and ate in silence, each aware that he’d admitted the possibility of their becoming involved emotionally and that she hadn’t denied it.
Her gaze followed his hand as he brushed aside the black strands that hung over his eyes. “That’s the second time you’ve alluded to that,” she said as her soft musical lilt caressed him and he thought he heard a tone of resignation in her voice.
“Probably won’t be the last time, either. But, as I said, you’ve nothing to fear from me.” Her broad smile sent his heart into a tailspin, and he wondered, not for the first time, whether he shouldn’t cancel his agreement with The Journal. And with her. He aimed to find a caring woman who radiated peace, and that ruled out the contentious female before him.
They finished what he considered an average meal and he fished in his pocket for a credit card. “Do you have any pets?” he heard himself ask.
She knitted her eyebrows and shrugged her left shoulder, a habit that seemed like a protective reflex. “I have a one-eyed goose that follows me around, but she’s mean. When I don’t give her the attention she wants, she attacks me.”
He stared in disbelief. “You’re kidding.”
She shook her head. “Definitely not. I wear a lot of goose-inflicted scars as proof of her devotion.”
He grinned at the picture floating through his mind. “A half-blind goose that gets temperamental and turns on you. I’ll be doggoned.” Standing, he held out his hand to her, and after seconds of hesitation, she took it. Sensations raced from his fingertips to his armpits, and he knew he’d erred.
“What about the bill? I’m on an expense account, too, Jake.”
“I was raised—”
She groaned. “Don’t bother; I know the rest. And since I was taught not to draw public attention to myself, I’ll let it slide. For now.”
They walked toward Rockefeller Center, and he couldn’t help marveling at the change in her. She exuded youthful joy, unconsciously seducing him, alerting him to the softer, gentler woman who he suspected lived somewhere inside her and whom he’d like to know better.
* * *
Here and there in the crisp, calm night, Christmas lights still twinkled from trees that had been decorated with them almost a year earlier; a horn blared its impatience and a hundred others replied; a tall man wearing a white sheet draped over his body strolled along with a python slung around his neck and a sign in his hand that proclaimed The End Has Come and Gone; This is Forever. Why had she never noticed that walking along a street could be such an exhilarating experience? Allison wanted to laugh aloud at the shocked expression on a woman’s face when, thinking her a beggar, she reached into her coat pocket for one of the dollar bills that she’d put there for the beggars she met and handed it to the woman. The bizarrely dressed woman had stood with one empty hand outstretched while the woman beside her proffered a flier. When she and Jake stopped for the corner light, Allison glanced at the flier, saw an advertisement for a triple-X-rated show, and let the laughter that bubbled up in her throat have its way.
She’d barely recovered from her mistake when a painted man on stilts grinned down at her and said, “Hello, lovely thing. Come fly with me.”
Caught up in the fun, she surprised herself by answering, “Sorry. I forgot to bring along my wings.” She couldn’t refrain from laughing as he strutted on his way.
Jake’s fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around her arm, and she glanced up to see a smile aglow on his face. An intimate smile, not the studied brightness that he wore for his public. A pervasive contentment enveloped her, but when her mind warned of danger, she tried without success to push back the feeling. She’d traveled that road before, and she knew she’d better dispel the sense of rightness that being with this stranger, a business associate, gave her.
* * *
“What is it, Allison? Am I losing you already?” Jake asked her, resisting the temptation to sling his arm around her waist.
“Not...not really,” she said with seeming reluctance, and he knew he’d disconcerted her; she wouldn’t want him to understand her so well. Her unexpected feminine softness reached the man in him, and against his better judgment, he took her hand in his and clasped it tightly as they walked along Forty-ninth Street. At the Plaza in Rockefeller Center, they gazed at the flags of all nations, the chrysanthemums, lilies, and shrubs, and the crowds—people from all over the world—that milled around looking for something to happen.
“Oh, Jake,” she said, her voice warm with enthusiasm, “this is the first time I’ve seen Rockefeller Plaza at night with the lights and flags. It’s...like a fairyland. Gee, I wish I had my camera. Listen! That’s Gershwin’s ‘Love Walked In.’ Where’s it coming from? This is wonderful.”
She didn’t resist when he pulled her closer. But she’ll probably go into a rage if I try this tomorrow morning, he cautioned himself. The gaiety and childlike stars in her eyes played like tiny fingers on his heartstrings. Squeezing. Tugging. He gazed down at her, thinking of the change she’d undergone since they left the restaurant. How could a person have two such distinct personalities? “Is there anything you’ve always wanted to do in New York and haven’t done?” he asked her.
“Ride through Central Park in a hansom,” she blurted out. “I always dreamed of doing that, but...” To his amazement, she appeared shy. Was this the same woman with whom he had ridden up from Washington that morning? He could hardly believed what he saw.
“But what?” he prompted.
“I don’t...” She tugged at his arm. “Say, wasn’t that guy sitting diagonally across from our table back there in the restaurant?”
Jake controlled the impulse to whirl around and look at the man. “What guy?” he asked with all the nonchalance he could muster. “Where?” From the corner of his eye, he followed the direction of her gaze, but didn’t see anyone he recognized.
“The one who’s leaning against the railing just beside the stairs going down to the rink.”
He didn’t turn his head; best to let the man think he hadn’t been noticed. “What makes you so sure he’s the same fellow?” he asked her, knowing she’d give him the man’s description.
“Same gray suit, green-and-red tie and handkerchief, and the same dark, bushy eyebrows. Also, he finds us very interesting.”
He kept his voice even. “You can’t blame a man for looking at a lovely woman. What else does an out-of-town guy do on a night like this after he’s had a good meal? Go back to his hotel?” However, his concern far exceeded the casual interest that his voice and words suggested. She’d pegged the man correctly, and her description perfectly described a man he’d seen in the restaurant, but he didn’t share his thoughts about it with her. He would have dismissed the likelihood that he was being tailed if the man hadn’t fit the description of an agent. But who was he and what did he want? In the restaurant, the stranger wore glasses, though he removed them in order to read the menu, but he apparently wasn’t wearing them now, out of doors, which meant they were a disguise. Their ride through Central Park would have to wait; he had to call the chief.
“Let’s take a rain check on that horse-drawn carriage, Allison. I just remembered I ought to call a friend before too late, and his number’s in my briefcase.” A strange tightness squeezed his chest when a look of disappointment clouded her face, her expression suggesting that he was deserting her. He had the urge to put his arm around her but, as much as the effort cost him, he didn’t give in to it. He put his hands in his pockets where they were less likely to get him into trouble.
To her credit, he thought, she didn’t pout, nor did she insist. “Next time, maybe. But isn’t it a bit late to phone anyone?”
“No. He’s a night person. Shall we go?”
He walked with her to the door of her hotel room and made himself smile and appear casual, but the possibility that a man might be tailing him had dissolved the amorous feelings he’d had earlier in the evening. He held her hand for a second.
“You’re a woman of many sides, and I could get used to the one I’ve been with tonight. Thanks for a more than pleasant evening. See you in the morning.”
Her lips parted and then closed before she whispered, “Good night, Jake.”
What had she left unsaid? He walked off with the feeling that unfinished business remained behind, that they hadn’t dealt with something important, and from the look of disappointment that had clouded her face, he’d bet she felt the same.
He didn’t use his cell phone to call the chief at his home, so he made certain that he wasn’t being followed, took a taxi to the Hilton Hotel, and went straight to the bank of public telephones. He had to use a third set of codes before he could reach the chief.
“What’s up?”
Jake described the man he’d thought was following him. “I can’t figure out why a hit man would wear such a loud tie. And he must have had a few chances to take a shot, so why didn’t he?”
“Maybe he wasn’t a hit man. You haven’t been hanging out with anybody’s wife, have you?”
Jake snorted. “Your sense of humor’s getting rusty. Are you suggesting this is a coincidence?”
“Just checking. I’ve yet to figure out what blows your whistle. That business about the glasses intrigues me. Was he wearing them at Rockefeller Center?”
Jake thought for a minute. “No. And if he couldn’t read with them on and wasn’t wearing them out of doors, they were a disguise.”
“Right. I’ll put a couple of men on him. But watch your back.”
“Sure thing,” Jake said and hung up. He left by the side door, walked up to Central Park South, hailed a taxi, and went back to the Drake Hotel. Sometime later, he stood at the window of his room and stared down Park Avenue toward St. Bartholomew’s Church, almost ethereal in its solemn majesty as it stood shrouded in moonlight. The vision mocked him, dredged up his near-surface discontent over the loneliness of his existence. Did the emptiness that always haunted him account for his mistake in letting Allison accompany him on his tour? For he now saw it as a serious error, and he could only attribute it to the feelings she kindled in him. One way or another, that decision would one day haunt him. He closed the blinds and got ready for bed.
* * *
Allison stood where he’d left her, unconcerned about the ringing phone. Transfixed. Her gaze lingered on her room door long after she’d closed it. Jake had behaved correctly, precisely as she should have wanted. And she did want a strictly platonic relationship with him, didn’t she? Then why did she feel as though he’d let her down, had promised her what he’d later withheld? Why did she have that big hole inside her? She had to get Jacob Covington off her mind, and for want of a better method, she telephoned Connie.
“You’ve got that handsome hunk all to yourself, and you’re calling me?” Connie asked.
“How do you know he’s a hunk? Have you met him? Listen, Connie, the Kennedy Center Honors program is scheduled for next month, think you could get us some tickets?” The thought had just occurred, but she had called her friend in order to get her mind off of Jake, not to talk about him.
“The firm might be able to get us some. Say, guess who surfaced recently, all cloaked in respectability?”
For reasons Allison couldn’t fathom, apprehension gripped her. “You’ll tell me.”
“Roland Farr. I thought he’d be in jail by now, but he was at Chasan’s with Penelope Wade, Senator Wade’s daughter. I wonder where he’s been.”
“I don’t. I had hoped I’d heard the last of that man. What else is new?”
Connie’s chuckles would lighten anybody’s burden. “Plenty, I suspect, but nobody’s given me the lowdown. Hurry back.”
Allison hung up, pressed the red button on her phone, and got her message. Jenkins wanted her to call him. She looked at her watch. Ten-forty at night. Not on his life. She moved around the room, her thoughts on Connie’s news of Roland Farr. She shrugged. No point in wasting time wondering where the man got money to hobnob with Penelope Wade. She turned on the television, tuned to a local station, gazed at crowds milling around the streets of New York, and flicked it off. Restless. Such a magical evening as she and Jake had enjoyed should have had a different ending. And she’d thought...
Wait a minute. Jake had said that they would ride through the park, then he’d suddenly remembered he ought to call someone. Tension began to build in her, and she dropped to the edge of the bed and sat there. This wasn’t the first time she’d sensed something mysterious, even false about him. She telephoned his room. No answer. Air seeped from her lungs. Maybe the friend of whom he’d spoken was a woman, and maybe he’d spend the night with her. Not that she cared. She had no interest in him as a man, she told herself, reached for a notebook, and began recording the events of their day. But the image of a tall man with hazel eyes, the skin color of unshelled peanuts, and a wicked, out-of-control wink danced across the pages, daring her to fall in step with him and grab hold of life. She closed the notebook, opened the bathroom door and turned on the light, and went to bed. Her fear of a darkened room was absolute. It didn’t matter whether she was alone or with someone, a dark room terrified her, and she would neither enter nor remain in one.
* * *
Dozing off to sleep that night, Jake remembered their early morning program, sat up, and dialed Allison.
“Don’t tell me you were already asleep. I’m sorry if I awakened you, but I wanted to remind you that I have to be at the TV station no later than six-thirty in the morning. You remember that the taping is at seven-thirty.” Her soft groan—or was it a purr?—sent hot darts of sexual tension leapfrogging through his body, and he turned over on his belly. “Allison, wake up.”
“Hmmm?”
“Don’t forget we’re meeting downstairs at six-fifteen. I’ll have a taxi waiting.”
“Okay. I’ll...okay. Night.”
“Damn!” He turned off the light and fought for sleep that wouldn’t come, thanks to visions of her thrashing beneath the covers, beckoning him to her with arms outstretched. The streaks of light that at last filtered through the venetian blinds had never been more welcome.
* * *
Allison crashed into Jake as she raced into the breakfast room for her life-giving cup of coffee. “’Scuse me, sir. Uh... Oh, Jake. You’ve already had breakfast?”
Jake regained his balance, picked up his briefcase, and shook his head. “The Washington Redskins might be interested in a good linebacker like you. Lady, you’re dangerous.”
“I didn’t expect to run into anybody this time of morning. Sorry about the pun. What’s the fastest way to get some coffee?”
He looked at his watch. “We’ve got eight minutes. I’ll get two cups while you find a table.”
She couldn’t believe he’d said that. Find a table? They could have any one in the dining room. Jake brought her a glass of orange juice with her coffee, and she told herself that it would be safer to hate him for causing her to get up before daybreak than to soften up and like him when he revealed this kind, thoughtful side of himself.
“Thanks, but I don’t have time to drink all this, do I?”
“We’ll take the time. It may be afternoon before we get anything else.” He sat facing her, waiting patiently while she sipped the juice and drank the coffee. A deep, dangerous feeling welled up in her. In all her life, only her brother, Sydney, ever placed her needs before his own.
After the taping of his interview that morning, Jake conferred with his publisher, leaving Alison with free time. She went back to the Drake and returned her boss’s call of the night before.
“Took your sweet time getting back to me. I wanted you to dash over to the United Nations and get an interview with the president of Ireland, who’s speaking this afternoon, and find out what that dame’s got going for herself. Well, it’s too late now. Next time return my call, even if it’s three o’clock in the morning.”
