Call My Name (21 page)

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“Were you pleased?” Drew asked her later, when the maître d’ had seated the two in a quiet corner of one of the most chic and exclusive restaurants in Washington. It was the very first restaurant she had eaten at in the capital, aside from her hotel coffee shop and the Senate cafeteria. Even now some doubts remained. But the joy of the victory was too great to be blemished by her lingering fear of running into Bill. And, she had reasoned with very mixed feelings, this would be her last night in Washington.

There was no hesitancy in her response, neither in words nor in the spontaneous smile that softened the slim line of her face. “Of course! The bill
had
to pass. It’s what we’ve been working for for so long.”

Looking positively handsome, if still a bit tired, Drew eyed her with gentle chiding. “No, I mean the bill itself. Were you pleased with the final version?”

As she pondered his question, her tapered fingernail absently rubbed the jagged edge of the elaborate menu. “I might have liked to have some parts stronger.” She grinned sheepishly, recalling her own vehement arguments. “But, on the whole, it’s a good bill. Where does it go from here?”

Leaning back in his chair, he explained the rest of the process of turning the bill into law. “The House has to act on it, one way or the other. If the form they pass is different from this one, a joint committee will be formed, consisting of representatives of both houses of Congress. Hopefully they will reach a compromise, enabling final passage of the bill.”

As she absorbed the depth of his gray gaze, locked with her own, Daran recalled how astonished she’d been when, after the festivities in the office that afternoon, Drew had drawn her aside and insisted she join him for dinner.

“But I haven’t anything to wear!” she had protested feebly, remembering one other occasion when she had thrown him a similar argument.

“You’ve got two hours,” he had growled back good-naturedly. Mercifully they were out of earshot of the others. “Buy something.”

That was exactly what she had done. Enjoying herself to no small extent, she had purchased a flowing dress of aqua silk, long-sleeved, deep V-necked, nipped in at the waist, and perhaps the most exquisite dress she ever remembered owning. The approval in Drew’s eyes when he picked her up at her hotel suite was instant reward for the splurge. His own appearance was, as always, breathtaking—his dark suit and tie, and the contrasting light shirt that fit his leanly muscular lines to perfection, his sandy hair groomed carefully, his freshly shaven cheeks a constant temptation to touch. But it was his eyes, with their power to melt and to magnetize, that held her then, as they continued to do now.

“So, what is the final verdict, Daran? Have you enjoyed Washington?” The light lilt to his voice was at odds with the intensity of those eyes.

“Yes,” she began slowly, treading her way carefully as she went on. “I’ve enjoyed every minute of it. It has been a truly educational experience, not to mention the satisfaction of being able to go back home and report favorably to the Advocacy Project executive board.”

Mention of her return to Connecticut was purposely ignored. “You haven’t seen much of the town. Why haven’t you dated?” The bluntness of his query startled her, as did the faintly accusative lowering of his brows.

“I really haven’t had the time.” She shrugged, feigning nonchalance as she prayed he would leave that particular issue alone. This time her prayer was not answered.

“I happen to know that you’ve had invitations.”

“And how would you know that?” Her chin tilted a bit higher in a return of her long-forgotten indignation.

“It’s my job, Daran,” he answered patiently, if evasively. “My staff is a key to my success on the Hill. Assuming that they have the gray matter to start with, they will work up to par and beyond only if they are happy. I try to keep on top of what’s going on.”

Nodding her head, she looked down at her menu. The loose darkness of her wavy hair fell around her face in a soft foil for her innermost feelings. By the time she had made a decision on what to order, her composure was, once more, intact. If Drew had wanted to pursue the matter, he must have thought better of it. It was only after he had given her order, then his own, to the waiter that he spoke again, this time on a more neutral topic.

“When do your classes start again?” His eyes fell to her lips, then quickly caught themselves and lifted once more, leaving her momentarily breathless but otherwise poised.

“Not until the middle of September. There are some department meetings beforehand, though. I’m planning to teach a new seminar this fall.”

Under Drew’s gentle and interested prodding, she described the proposal that had been approved last spring. His enthusiasm for the new course seemed as genuine as hers, by the time their food arrived. The rest of the dinner proceeded with easy conversation and superb cuisine. To her own elaboration of her fall schedule, Drew added a summary of the work he would be doing during the next few weeks. With the exception of one sticky confirmation hearing, which prompted a return of the worry lines to his bronzed forehead, he told of a schedule of hearings, meetings, lectures, and two trips.

As they lingered over coffee, Daran wondered what was to come in the saga of her heart. The warmth of the coffee as it penetrated the inner chill that suddenly gripped her did little to sustain her. The presence of this dynamic man across the small table from her became torturous, wanting as she did to be with him, knowing as she did the unlikelihood of that. As though sensing her train of thought, he leaned forward, forearms on the table. In the atmospheric intimacy of the restaurant, his nearness sent quivers through her.

“I’m glad you wore the earrings. They sparkle in tune with those amber eyes of yours.” Deeply husky, his tone stole rational thought from her. More than anything she wanted to forget all else and surrender totally to him. More than anything she wanted him to help her, once and for all, overcome the past and its lingering fears. More than anything she wanted
him
.

The silence between them was soft and gentle, a soul-reaching interaction as loud as the thunderous hammering of dual pulse beats. Words were superfluous to the visual give and take. When his long fingers stretched to touch the tip of her earlobe, it was in unspoken encouragement of her thoughts. The slow smile that curved her lips was extended to his. It was a beginning. Then she froze. A movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention, and she shifted her gaze to the face at a table not far from theirs. It was Bill! After all this time and on the first occasion she had dared take the chance as blatantly, her worst fear had become reality. The man she had wished never to see again had now, by virtue of his mere presence, destroyed the moment.

“What is it, Daran?” All huskiness had evaporated, replaced by a deliberate evenness.

With monumental effort she dragged her eyes away from the horror of nightmares relived in those few short instants of recognition. “I-I think I’d like to go b-back to the hotel now.” Eyes averted from both men now, her hand took her purse and she stood quickly, waiting only long enough for Drew to stand before heading for the door.

No word was spoken until they were in the car again. “What happened back there?” he demanded, his anger and frustration barely held in check. “I thought—”

“I’m sorry, Drew.” Frantically she rubbed her forehead in attempt to settle herself. But the shock of seeing her former husband was too great. “I just have to go back. It’s something … very personal.” No more than a whisper, her words seemed to infuriate Drew.

Jaw tensed, fingers white-knuckled on the steering wheel, he sped through the evening traffic, pulling up with a lurch in front of her hotel. Inhaling deeply, she took the hand that was offered her and submitted to its punishing grip as he helped her from the car and drew her into the lobby, up the elevator, then down the corridor to her door. Searching her soul for the words to explain, she could find none. A shaking hand fumbled for the key, then relinquished it to Drew’s steadier one. She passed ahead of him into the living room, head bowed, innards quivering. Seeing Bill was bad enough; but at that particular moment …

“Look, Daran. I’m headed for Montreal in the morning. A plane will be at my disposal. If you were planning on taking the shuttle back to Bradley anyway, let me drop you there on the way. It will give us some time to talk.” His form seemed to tower against the door frame as she turned to look at him. Maybe a good night’s sleep would give her the courage to explain her sudden turnoff.

When she raised her eyes to his, he held them closely, studying, delving, trying to read into her soul. To her dismay he stiffened. His voice was a low order when he finally spoke.

“Be ready at seven-thirty. We’ll have breakfast when we’re airborne.”

This time he did wait to hear her agree, as if he half-suspected she would bolt before dawn. The eyes that pierced her were cold, hard steel, the shoulders were as rigid.

“That’s fine,” she heard her own voice whisper tremulously. Whether it was a smart move, she did not know, but she simply did not have the strength to refuse.

*   *   *

The night’s sleep was neither good nor restorative for either of them. When Drew appeared on her threshold promptly at seven-thirty, his glower spoke above all else. Daran had slept very little; her makeup barely disguised that fact. They picked up where they had left off the night before—in a heavy silence that cast its gloomy mantle over an already overcast day. Her only surprise came when they boarded the small plane and learned that, aside from its crew, they were the only passengers. Drew seemed not at all perturbed. His arms were laden with bags and papers, briefcases and notebooks; this trip was evidently to be made with the noticeable absence of a legislative sidekick.

Doubtful weather conditions did not lessen Drew’s resolve that they take off immediately. The continental breakfast that Daran found before her swayed from side to side as they reached their cruising altitude amid thick, ominous clouds, high winds, and abominable air pockets. It was, in hindsight, the worst flight she had ever been on. Ironically it was just that discomfort that alleviated, then remedied the storm within her.

Sitting beside her, Drew could not miss the death-grip she held on the arms of her seat, her eyes wide and glued to the window and the nothingness beyond. “It’s all right, Daran. You’re not frightened, are you?” His voice had softened, miraculously, giving her the courage to look at him.

“I hate flying anyway. And in this type of weather…”

His gaze fell to the typed memoranda on his lap for a minute before he reinserted them in their manila folder and put them back into his briefcase. Shoving the arm between their seats back and out of the way, he took her hand, which hovered unsurely. “Come here.” His head cocked enticingly, yet there was none of the sensuality in his eye that there might have been. “You’ll feel better. Lean against me.”

It had an instant calming effect, the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear and the firm clasp of his arm around her shoulder, holding her securely in defiance of the plane’s sporadic bobbing. It was a peaceful haven, one which she needed badly. Between the comfort of the pose and her fatigue, she lost track of time. It was only when she darted a glance at her watch that she bolted upright.

“We’ve been in the air for more than two hours. Where is Bradley Field?” Had they been on course, they would have touched down long since.

Drew hesitated, a breath drawn, before he answered. “You’re coming to Montreal with me.”

It was a gently spoken statement, made with neither humor nor smugness. Yet it unleashed a well of emotion within her. “But I can’t go to Montreal. I’m expected back home. There are too many things I have to do.” Every excuse was a lame one; Drew knew it as did she. In response he merely pulled her head back against the solid wall of his chest and held her tighter than ever.

“Please, Daran. Don’t fight me all the time. I’m trying to do what is best.” There was a pleading note in his voice that she had heard on only one or two occasions in the past. As it had then, now it affected her deeply. The strength of the man was unfathomable; even in that hint of vulnerability, it showed through. When he saw that she would not argue, he continued, gently stroking her hair, tucking each strand behind her ear.

“I have to attend some important meetings in Montreal. But they shouldn’t take more than several hours on each of Saturday and Sunday. This is Friday; we have nearly the entire weekend to ourselves.
I
need this time, and
you
need this time.
We
do. Just trust me.” Hypnotized by the soothing touch of his fingers on her face, she forgot even the intermittent buffeting of the airplane. “I made a promise to you that I would never hurt you. And I have every intention of holding to that promise. We are going to land soon. I have made arrangements for us to stay at the home of a friend of mine in the city. He is away now.” When she tried to pull away in protest, he strengthened the hold of his arm. “No, don’t run yet. If at the end of the weekend you want to return to Connecticut, I will take you back there with no questions asked. Fair enough?”

The old battle waged again. This time, however, the sides were grossly mismatched. While the small voice within told her to protest this compromising arrangement, the louder voice praised it. The soft laugh that came from Drew puzzled her. The hand at her head drew it back so that their eyes could meet. “I can feel the war this time, Daran. Don’t worry. There are five bedrooms in this home, all available. You can have your choice. I won’t bother you … if that’s what you truly want.”

*   *   *

If that’s what you truly want. If that’s what you truly want
. The words gnawed at her all afternoon and evening. The drive through the city was an easy one, taking them directly to the address that Drew had given the French-speaking cabbie in passable French. The apartment itself was large and lovely. It didn’t pass her notice that he put her bag in one room, his own in another. Biting her lip, she let it be.