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Her gaze roamed over the lean, beautifully structured form of him, lingering on his muscular thighs, his broad shoulders and, finally, lifting to his mouth. Dear Lord. His mouth! It was the most sensuous thing she had ever seen. Unable to stop herself, she finally, if unwillingly, looked into his fern-green eyes and gasped, audibly. Those green eyes blazed with blatant desire, obviously triggered by her appraisal of him. She looked first at the floor and then toward the ceiling—anyplace but at him.
“Have you eaten?” he asked, attempting to put her at ease.
“No, I haven’t. Thank you.”
Splaying his fingers at her lower back, he guided her to the buffet table of hors d’oeuvres. Somewhat wobbly from their visual caress, she was grateful for his support. He handed her a finger sandwich of smoked salmon, cream cheese and dill on pumpernickel and seemed fascinated as she managed to nibble it without touching her lips. He dipped a crab claw in some pink dressing and then into his mouth.
“Mmm, but this is good,” he said gazing at her. He cleaned his top lip with the tip of his tongue. She knew he hadn’t meant to be provocative, but that gesture was the epitome of provocation.
She stared at him. Was his every move a sexual innuendo? Maybe she was just reading sensuality into it. In all her twenty-eight years, she had never responded to a man this way. She probably didn’t even know what a woman’s response to a man was supposed to be. Lord knows, her one short abysmal experience with Joshua had been devastating.
“The annual Second Avenue festival starts Friday. Have you ever been?” At this point, she would’ve said anything to change the focus of her unruly thoughts.
“No. Why?” he asked.
“You seem to enjoy eating, and some of the food at that festival is so fantastic that I just throw caution to the four winds, forget the guilt and dig in.”
Jon sensed that she wanted to find neutral ground, that the electricity passing between them had made her uneasy. But he’d be damned if he was going to chitchat about something so banal as a street fair. He’d choose his own safe topic.
“You were great on camera,” he said. “You looked good, too. After I recovered from the surprise of seeing you, I listened to what you had to say. Your message was impressive. If you ever want to change careers, I hope you’ll consider EIS. Believe me, the door is open.”
She made no effort to hide her pleasure at his remarks. “Thank you,” she said, simply. “I was a little nervous, as I’d had less than an hour’s notice that my talk would be televised. And I was excited when I realized that it would be broadcast to the States.” And that it was your network and that you would probably see me, she added silently.
“What do you think of Ian MacKenlin?” Now, why had he asked that? What could she think? Ian was competent and always did his job well. He was also hell with women or had been before he married the year before. What was it to him, anyway? What she did was her business. He made an effort to straighten out his mind and get it going in the right direction. He hardly knew this woman, and it was foolish to be thinking about what man she’d seen or hadn’t seen, liked or hadn’t liked. “Did he, uh, show you around, some sightseeing, that sort of thing?” He winced at his own transparency.
“Why? Is that company policy?”
“Well, for someone who’s never been to the place before…” He stopped himself. He wouldn’t continue that inane conversation. And what she did, he reminded himself again, was her business. Still…
“Mr. MacKenlin introduced me to his wife, who took me shopping in the local marketplace and on home to dinner with them. It was a wonderful evening, and I’m hoping that she and I will remain friends, even over long distance.” She wondered why Jon Ecklund was asking her about MacKenlin. Could he possibly care who she was with? Her mind wondered on. She’d bet her PhD that Jon Ecklund was a thorough man. Thinking that if he made love to a woman, he’d do a man’s job of it, she felt her mouth go dry and her face heat up. She tried not to look at him, but her eyes disobeyed her, and she stared into those fern-green pools of sensuality. God help her, she didn’t want this.
“Do you like music?” he asked, bringing her out of her reverie.
“Yes,” she said. He had rescued her again. “I like the classics, especially Mozart, most of Puccini’s operas, blues and classical jazz. I love jazz.”
He listened to her low, soft voice. It warmed him. Yes, just being with her warmed him. Maybe she wasn’t as cold as she always looked. He took her hand, and although she offered no objection, he sensed the tension in her.
“Will you dance with me?” He wanted her in his arms. He knew that he should go slowly, but he couldn’t. His instinct told him that he was vulnerable to her, but he pushed the warning aside. “Come with me,” he said softly, her hand still wrapped in his. She said nothing and didn’t remove her hand, but she went with him.
Nels had converted the dining room for dancing, and several couples were on the floor. As the band began to play “If I Loved You” from Nels’s sound system, he turned to her and opened his arms. She walked into them. For seconds, they didn’t move. Then he began a slow two-step. Though she was tall, at least five feet ten inches, he had to bend a little. She reached up and put her arms around his neck, as if in an embrace and, as he moved, she began to sing the words in a sweet, sultry contralto. She had him spellbound. Her beautiful voice reached into his heart and grabbed him, and her soft body molded perfectly to his. He knew he should put on the brakes, but he wanted more. He didn’t know where it would lead, but he wanted to know her, all of her.
They realized that the music had stopped and that they still held each other.
“You must be a magician.”
“Who, me?” He couldn’t believe that anyone would describe him in that manner.
“Yes, you,” she bantered. “You’ve cast a spell on me. I don’t hug strange men,” she continued, laughing. He grinned. Then he laughed a clear, soul-cleansing laugh.
She stared at him, captivated. “You ought to laugh all the time,” she blurted out. “You’re very attractive when you laugh.”
He stopped laughing and just looked at her. Was she making a pass at him? She was dead serious. She thought he was good looking, at least when he laughed.
“Keep me happy, and I’ll laugh all you want.”
She didn’t respond.
“I was jesting, Haley, I don’t mean to step out of line with you,” he said softly.
“Step out of line? I thought you were being witty. What does it take to keep you happy? I can imagine that you don’t want for the company of beautiful women.” They walked off the floor, but the closeness that they had felt was gone.
He thought for a moment. He wanted to be truthful without seeming arrogant. “Beautiful, sophisticated women are not what it takes to make me happy or, for that matter, even to alleviate boredom.”
When she didn’t respond, he asked himself how they had gotten into something that personal. She had been teasing, and his response had been way too serious.
Nels rescued them. “I see you two have been getting acquainted. Supper is being served. Come on back in the kitchen. I’ve set a table for the three of us back there.”
“Are you deserting your other guests, Nels?” Haley wanted to know.
Nels grinned, effectively admitting that he was matchmaking. “The only guests of importance are right here with me. I see the rest of them as often as I like. Let’s plan a time when we can get together, Jon. I want to know what you’ve been doing these past five years.”
“Okay, we’ll plan something.” They bantered and joked as if they had always been a threesome. When they’d finished the roasted pheasant, grilled mushrooms and steamed artichokes, they had a green salad and Blue Stilton cheese.
Haley leaned back and sighed. “Nels, if I had a butler, I’d want you to train him. You’re the perfect host.”
“He is, if he happens to want to pick your brain, like now,” Jon observed.
After raspberry sherbet and coffee, Jon stood. “It’s time to call this wonderful evening to a halt. May I see you home, Haley?”
“Oh, I live way over on the west side.”
“Where on the west side?” Jon asked her.
“Well, Riverside Drive. That’s probably out of your way.” It was twenty-five blocks out of his way, if he was concerned with distance. But his instincts told him that it was the most direct route to where he wanted to be.
“No, it isn’t out of my way. I’ll give you a call, Nels.”
Haley hugged Nels and thanked him for the party, and it annoyed Jon that she put her arms around Nels and kissed him on the cheek. He refused to ask himself why he should get sore about a thing like that.
“Shape up, man,” he said to himself. She didn’t belong to him and never would. What had he been thinking all evening, anyway? As they reached the elevator, he felt himself withdrawing.
They were silent as the elevator descended the twenty-two floors to the lobby. She didn’t look at Jon, but he looked at her. Why hadn’t he told Nels that he’d be busy? He’d had a suspicion that she would be there. Damn, he’d wanted her to be there, had wanted to see her again. He knew that she sensed his withdrawal and was hurt by it, but he made no move to bridge the chasm that he had deliberately erected between them. He was never going to give another woman the opportunity to crush him—and that included the elegant Dr. Feldon.
As they reached the street, Haley sighted a taxi, flagged it and reached for its door.
“Now, wait a minute, here. I told you that I would see you home.”
“No, thank you. I am perfectly capable of seeing myself safely home, and I won’t have to contend with any lightning fast mood changes, since I don’t have them.” She closed the door and gave the cabbie her address. The taxi moved away from the curb, leaving a stunned Jon staring at its taillights. No goodbye, no see you, no nothing. Well, what should he have expected?
“You young people are always quarreling. Now, me and my Beth, we never had a cross word from the time we met, and we’ve been married forty-three years. Soon as I set eyes on ’er, I knew she was for me. Your man seemed like a nice one,” the cabbie said. “What’s the problem? Think you two can work it out?”
Haley blew out a long breath. “The trouble with him is that he goes from tepid to hot to cold in a couple of minutes, and I like dependable personalities and stability in my life. Anyway, he isn’t my man.”
“From what you just said, I can tell he’s ’bout hooked. You listen to me, here. When a man acts like that, he’s interested—don’t want to be and fast losing the battle. You’ll see. Well, here ya are, little lady. That’s thirteen-eighty. Mark my word, you ain’t seen the last of that one.”
Haley leaned back in her desk chair and let her gaze sweep the autumn colors that beautified her office. She’d been in that rut ever since Nels’s party. Three weeks down the drain. If she didn’t get that proposal written, she could just forget about the health education program for reservation children. She swore vehemently. Why couldn’t she get Jon Ecklund out of her head? She couldn’t think of anything except the way she’d felt in his arms when he held her and danced with her. She’d felt his masculine strength, the force of his personality and his barely controlled passion. She knew he wanted her, and she also knew that something restrained him. She told herself that it was best to forget about him. Come hell or high water, she would.
The ring of the telephone invaded her thoughts. “Yes, Amy?” Amy had been her secretary since the doors of IISP first opened. The stunning fifty-year-old redheaded grandmother had a husband who had practically worshipped her for 28 years. She was fiercely loyal to Haley.
“Mr. Andersen. Can you take it?”
“Hello, Nels. What can I do for you?”
“Well, you can begin by being less officious. What in heaven’s name have you done to Jon? He came over yesterday, asking all kinds of questions about you. But he didn’t want any answers. I think he just wanted to get tanked, and believe me, he got tanked. And he didn’t even get high once when we were in college. I still can’t believe he did what I saw him do yesterday.”
“You were in college with him?”
“Yeah. We were roommates and best friends for four years as undergraduates and two years in graduate school. We both got degrees in journalism. Haley, Jon is about the finest man I have ever met. If I had a sister, I would do my best to make him my brother-in-law. He’s straight. And you’ve got him spinning. We’ve got to talk about this.”
“Nels, I’ll talk about anything you want after I finish this grant proposal. I am trying to get funding for a project to improve health education among reservation kids in the first through ninth grades.”
“Are we speaking every kid on every reservation?”
“No, I’m just going to try two or three pilot projects, just to demonstrate what can be done with a small investment.”
“Are you going to include the Comanche, since they’re your own people?”
“Nels, the Comanche do not live on a reservation, though most of us are settled out in Oklahoma.”
“Haley, I’m not about to go into the geography of the Native Americans right now. I want to talk to you about Jon.”
“Nels, give me a break. I don’t want to talk about Jon Ecklund. Period. That man is the reason why I’m struggling with this proposal and getting nowhere.”
“Why, what did he do?”
“Nothing” was the nettled response. She said goodbye and placed the phone in its cradle. It was enough to have to think about the man; she’d be damned if she was going to spend the afternoon talking about him. Besides, anybody with sense could see that Jon Ecklund was more than man enough to fight his own battles and win his own wars.
What I need, she thought, after a moment of reflection, is better information about the schools on these reservations. She punched the intercom button. “Amy, please tell Spencer that I want to see him now.”
“Right, Haley.”
“Spencer, I want a report on the national ranking of primary and secondary students attending school on these three reservations—students per teacher, average attendance and annual education expenditure per student. And I want it by ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”
“You don’t want much,” a chastened Spencer observed.
“No, I don’t. See you at ten o’clock in the morning.” As Spencer walked out, it occurred to her that she would probably fire him within the next six months. His arrogance was becoming intolerable.
Maybe she should make on-site visits to the schools, using Spencer’s report as preparatory material. Where was she going to get all of this time? Her mother might have some ideas. Haley telephoned her in Washington, and indeed she did. Gale Feldon had taken early retirement from her university post as professor of history, but retirement didn’t sit well with her. Haley wasn’t surprised when her mother offered to make the trip out to Oklahoma and undertake an on-site investigation. Unlike her daughter, Gale understood and spoke the language and had good contacts among her own people. That was all the entrée she would need to speak to the neighboring tribes. They agreed that she and Gale would leave Wednesday morning, carrying Spencer’s report and a consultant’s contract from IISP. Haley would visit schools of the other two tribes.
Haley was back in her office the following Monday morning with everything she needed for the proposal. Gale Feldon’s highly professional report awaited her. Now, she only had to put it together and polish it off. “Yes, Amy.”
“Mr. Ecklund. He’s called half a dozen times since you left on Wednesday. I left the notes on your desk.”
“Thanks, I’ll take the call. Hello, Jon.”
“Hello, Haley.” She had forgotten the beauty of his deep, velvet baritone. It warmed her all over. It soothed her, wrapped her up in warm contentment.
“Haley, would you have dinner with me tonight? I want to see you again. Something went wrong between us. Will you please let me clear it up?”
“Jon, I’m terribly busy. I’m sorry.”
“Just like that? But you will eat, won’t you? I know that I am responsible for the hostility that you must feel toward me, but—”
She interrupted him. It wasn’t exactly hostility that she felt toward him, but he had hurt her, and she didn’t want to expose herself to any more hurt from him.
“I do not feel hostile toward you. I told you. I’m busy. I have to finish a proposal.”
“All right. When will you have dinner with me?”
“If I agree to have dinner with you, are you sure you won’t change your mind, lose your appetite, get an urgent call to leave town or something?”
“I deserve that.”
“My, my, such humility. I have to get back to work now. Goodbye.” She hung up.
“Amy, come in and take a letter, please.” Amy’s pleasant smile disappeared abruptly as she walked into the office, and from her demeanor, Haley knew that Amy had detected her distress.
“This is to the Brayton-Rogers Foundation. The usual salutation. I am writing to request your support of educa…” She couldn’t stop the tremors in her voice. Horrified, Amy moved forward to comfort her, but embarrassed, Haley stepped away from the desk.
“Amy, please excuse me for a few minutes.”
“But, Haley—”
“I’ll be fine. Please, Amy.”
Amy left. Haley went into her private bathroom and calmed herself. She hadn’t wanted to hurt Jon, only to preserve her sanity. How must he feel? She had never hung up on anybody, not even people whom she disliked. Why had she reacted so harshly?
When she had regained composure, she acknowledged to herself that she should apologize to Jon. After looking through her personal address book, she dialed a number from it. Nels answered on the first ring.
“Haley here. Can you give me Jon’s telephone number?”
“Home or office?”
“Wherever he’s likely to be right now.”
He gave her both. “Haley, what is going on?”
She thought for a moment. “Nels, I really don’t know. Please be a friend, and don’t ask anything of me just now.”
