One Night With You (10 page)

She laughed to let him relax, for she supposed he had worried that she might resent his familiarity with her when he had caressed her breasts in front of Mike and the other players. “You really could cause a problem for yourself when you start playing with my breast. So you'd better tell your hands to control themselves when we're on that stage.”

“Hmmm. Does that mean they can play fast and loose when we're not onstage?”

“That question does not deserve an answer. When did Mike say we'll perform for an audience?”

“A couple of weeks from now, and it can't come too soon. I'm tired of tying up my Thursday nights. I love the acting, but…well, you know what I mean.”

“I do, but if we didn't have this, would we be able to see each other without raising suspicion?”

“No, and I'm grateful for it. When it gets a little warmer, we can sit out in my garden.”

“But won't your neighbors on higher floors be able to look down and see us? We can sit out in my back garden on my deck and no one can see us.”

“Damn, Kendra. I'm sick of this secrecy.” He got out of the car and, without glancing back, sprinted across the street. Stunned by his odd behavior, she locked her car, went inside her house and locked the door. She didn't need Reid or any other man to check her house.

“I hear you're a terrific actress, ma'am,” Carl Running Moon Howard said to her when she got to work the next morning. “The first show's two weeks off, and it looks like the whole town is geared up to see you. The mayor's niece is playing your daughter.”

“His niece? I had no idea.”

“You should have suspected she was somebody's
something,
ma'am, because she can't act. She once played my little sister, and you should've seen her. I hear the man playing with you is real good, too.”

She wanted to ask if he was fishing for something, but thought better of it. “Yes,” she said instead. “He doesn't seem like an amateur,” and continued with, “Carl, this coffee is delicious, but I see no reason why we shouldn't make it ourselves. I'm going to buy a coffeemaker.”

“Yes, indeed, ma'am, and don't forget the microwave and the mini refrigerator.”

“I won't,” she said, glad to have deflected his thoughts from her and Reid.

She wasn't getting the results she had hoped for from her acting. One could say that she was doing it for herself rather than for the community, even if she was volunteering.

After hearing two cases that morning that bored her to the extent that she could barely keep her eyes open, one dealing with shoplifting and the other with a man's ruses to avoid paying child support, she decided that if she didn't branch out, she could lose her sanity. At the end of the court's second, third and fourth sessions that day, she announced that she would give free civics classes to high school students at the local school.

“The classes will deal with women's rights and laws affecting them,” she said, “and the high-school senior who scores highest on the exam at the end of the class will receive a one-thousand-dollar college scholarship.”

Eleven girls signed up for the course, which she would conduct twice weekly from three-thirty to five o'clock.

“How'd you happen to decide to give this course and the scholarship?” Reid asked her when they spoke by phone.

“This town is hard to crack, and I figured I have the time, so why not?”

“Is it limited to girls?”

She enjoyed a good laugh. “Don't be so transparent. No, but it's limited to high-school seniors.”

“I hope they learn something. By the way, would you be willing to go with me to the eastern shore of Maryland next weekend? It's warm there. Do you have riding pants or some heavy jeans, and a bathing suit, of course?”

She had been sitting on the edge of the bed when she'd answered the telephone and heard his voice. “What about the boys' chorus?”

“I'll cancel it and give them an extra hour tomorrow morning. Will you go?”

She stretched out on the bed and let herself enjoy hearing his voice while she pretended that she had only to turn over and she could touch him. “You know I will.” It sounded like a come-on.

“Are you lying down? Look, sweetheart, life is hard enough without my getting these…uh…pictures of what you must look like right now.”

She sat up. “I assure you that I am fully dressed, and I am not lying down.”

“Not now, you aren't,” he said.

They talked for over an hour about their work, hinting at everything but their loneliness for each other.

“This is a lousy substitute for having my arms around you,” he said at last, “but my day will come, and I intend to make good use of it when it gets here.”

Laughter bubbled up in her throat and spilled out like a reluctant gurgle. “I can't believe you're talking about me like that. Behave yourself.”

“You're joking. Woman, that's all I ever do. I'm hanging up before I find myself ringing your doorbell. Sleep well.” He hung up, and she sat there thinking of ways to turn their relationship around without jeopardizing her status. She knew that when he'd left her in a huff after the Thursday-night rehearsal without seeing her into her house, he'd been frustrated and tired of their hot exchanges, passion that they needed to consummate. She didn't hold it against him.

“Good night, hon,” she said to him. “You sleep well, too.”

Several days later, when the chairman of the local gas and electric company—a single father with what Carl Running Moon Howard described as an impeccable reputation—invited her to a local fundraiser, she didn't see how she could refuse. She also didn't mention it to Reid.

She had two evening dresses, and she chose the antique gold one, not that she preferred it, but because it seemed more dignified with its wide skirt and modest neckline.

“You're gorgeous,” Clayton Anderson said when he called for her. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

Alarm streaked through her, for she hadn't thought he'd be a shallow and frivolous man. Her disappointment increased as the evening progressed. The man had a pair of swiveled hips, and insisted on dancing every dance.

What a show-off,
she said to herself.
I'm not going to let him make a dunce out of me.

The band played “Mary Ann,” a famous West Indian tune, and he stood, dancing around her chair in his eagerness to begin the dance.

“I don't care to dance this dance,” she said.

“You're not serious,” he said. “I never sit out a dance.”

“And I never allow myself to become a spectacle,” she said, her temper rising. “I am not going to dance this dance with you, Mr. Anderson.”

He went to the next table and asked a woman to dance with him.

“How did I get myself into this?” she wondered.

“Dance with me?”

At the sound of that familiar and beloved voice, her eyes widened. “Yes, I'd like that very much.” He held out his hand, she took it and knew once more the comfort of Reid's arms as he guided her to the sensuous rhythm of the tune “Mary Ann.”

She couldn't believe it when Clayton tapped Reid on the shoulder, having left his dance partner. “This is my date, buddy, and I'm claiming this dance.”

Reid stepped back. “We'll settle this another time, Anderson. Thank you for the dance, Judge Rutherford.”

“I would appreciate it if you would take me home this minute, Mr. Anderson. If you don't, I'll go alone.”

“What did I…I was only demanding my rights.”

She forced a smile. “
What
rights? Shall we go now?”

She didn't see Reid and didn't look for him, but she knew that whatever he was, he was incensed.
I'll hear about this,
she thought.

“I'm a judge,” she told her date when they arrived at her house. “An officer of the law, and I cannot afford the company of a man who would challenge another in a public place. Good night.” She didn't wait for his response, nor did she thank him for the evening.

Minutes after she pulled off her evening gown to prepare for bed, the telephone rang. Her first reaction was that she should ignore it, but then she realized that her caller could be Reid.

“How'd you happen to be with that guy?” Reid asked without preliminaries.

“He called me at my chambers, told me the affair was a fundraiser for an important charity, and asked if I would go with him. I had no way of knowing that he was a jerk, and I thank you for not taking up his challenge. I know it galled you not to give him what-for. I'd already told him that I did not want to dance that dance with him, because by that time I wished I'd stayed home.”

“I was there with the Marks and Connerly group. The boss bought a table and the less-senior architects on staff had to fill the seats. I was surprised to see you there.”

“Not nearly as surprised as I was to see you.”

“What did you do with him? I noticed that you left immediately.”

“I reminded him that I'm an officer of the law, and that was enough to sober his judgment. What time are we leaving Friday?”

“I get off at four-thirty, and I'm going to work with my suitcase in the car. We should be there by nine-thirty.”

“Okay. I'll be ready when you get here. I'm so excited, Reid.”

“I certainly hope you are, woman. After all, you're going to spend an entire weekend with your man.”

“I
wish somebody would tell me why I'm so nervous,” Kendra said to herself when Reid got out of the rented car and pressed the bell at the iron gate that would allow them to enter Dickerson Estates.

“Who is it?” she heard a voice ask.

“Reid. How are you, Max?”

“Couldn't be better. Come on in, man. We're all in the living room waiting for you.”

The big letter
D
atop the gate lit up, and the enormous iron barrier against outsiders swung open.
Well,
she thought,
I'll bet I'm in for some surprises. Something tells me I'll remember this visit for as long as I live.

“In midsummer, this is a beautiful driveway,” Reid explained. “The big trees are willows, and the smaller ones lined in front of them are crepe myrtles. The ground cover is a field of phlox, blue bonnets and a maze of other colorful flowers. It's breathtaking.”

“I didn't realize that you like flowers.”

“I didn't until I came here. This entire environment was so calming, so tranquil. Imagine living among people who wanted nothing more from you than your well-being and comfort. Oh, I had a job to do, but I was so glad for that that I didn't see it as work.”

“Wow,” she said when the big white Georgian mansion loomed close. “This house is really something.”

“Yeah, and shrouded in moonlight this way, it looks mysterious.”

“I'd say it looks romantic.”

He glanced at her, his white teeth flashing a smile. “That, too.”

“Who's this?” she asked Reid when a tall, Texas-size white man stepped out of the front door and ran down the steps.

“That's Philip.” He braked, reached over and unhooked her seat belt, got out of the car and went to meet Philip. She watched while they greeted each other with what was clearly a heartfelt warm embrace. They spoke for a minute, and then Reid came back to the car and opened the door for her. Ordinarily, she wouldn't have waited for that courtesy, but she didn't want to interfere with their conversation.

Reid put an arm around her waist in what she didn't doubt was both a signal to Philip and a show of possessiveness and walked with her to meet his friend. “Kendra, this is Philip Dickerson. I've told you a lot about him and what he's meant to me.” He tightened his arm around her. “Philip, from eight-thirty to four-thirty, Mondays through Fridays, Kendra is Judge Kendra Rutherford.”

She liked Philip Dickerson. His smile covered his entire face—and what a face in the moonlight—and he shook her hands with both of his. “You can't imagine how happy I am to meet you, Kendra. I'm glad you came.” He looked around. “You brought a suitcase, didn't you?”

“It's in the trunk,” she said. “Reid has told me wonderful things about you, Philip. It's a pleasure to meet you.”

“Come on in, I'll send someone for it.”

“What's all this?” Reid said when they walked into the living room, a vast chamber with ceilings almost two floors high and wide windows from which hung antique-gold satin drapes. At least a dozen men and a lone woman of about fifty and with the elegance and self-confidence of a fashion model stood when they walked in. They all greeted Reid simultaneously, and rushed to hug him and shake his hand.

Philip walked over to Kendra. “You won't remember anybody's name, except perhaps Doris's—she's my housekeeper and surrogate mother—and Rocket's.” He took her to an older man who stood nearby. “This is my dad, Arnold Dickerson. Dad, this is Judge Kendra Rutherford.”

She shook hands with the man, thinking that an apple didn't fall far from the tree, for Arnold Dickerson had passed his good looks to his son.

Philip clapped his hands to get the group's attention. “Look, everybody, as much as I'd enjoy doing it, I'm going to let Reid introduce his lady friend, because I remember that he's a man who stands on protocol.”

Reid walked over to them holding Doris's hand. “Kendra, this is Doris. She's the mistress of this place, and that man over there with the blond hair and white T-shirt is Max, her husband and Philip's foreman.”

They greeted each other warmly, and then Reid said, “Everybody, this is Kendra Rutherford, and she's one of the reasons why life is good. Officially, Kendra is a criminal court judge.”

“Welcome, Kendra” were words that sounded over and over. “Way to go, man,” several said to Reid in lowered tones.

Max came over and shook hands with her, and she observed from his carriage that his status was higher than that of anyone in the room other than Philip and his father. “I'm so glad to meet you, Kendra. You're the proof of the pudding, and I couldn't be happier for Reid.”

“Come on, let's get it together,” Doris said. “Reid and Kendra must be starving. It's kind of late in the evening for barbecued pig, but that's what Reid likes, so that's what you're getting.” She looked at Kendra. “Learn to barbecue. Anything. He doesn't care what it is so long as it's barbecued.”

The group followed Doris to the dining room where the barbecued pork, buttermilk biscuits, crabmeat salad, roasted corn, fried chicken, green field salad and apple pie covered the center of the table. At one end sat half a dozen bottles of wine, a tub of beer and several bottles of Moët & Chandon champagne, and at the other she saw a large urn of coffee.

When no one moved toward the food, she asked Reid, “Who starts?”

“They're waiting till Doris comes back from the kitchen and says the grace. Not even Philip risks Doris's lecture by eating before she prays over the food. This place operates like a family.”

Reid put a generous helping of shredded pork on his plate along with three biscuits.

“Is that all you're eating?” she asked him, enjoying the expression of joy on his face.

“I can get that other stuff most any place, but not this barbecued pig. Marcus did spareribs, but wait till you taste this freshly killed pork.”

She did. “I concur that this is exceptional, so you haven't misplaced your passion for—”

“Of course I haven't,” he said, making it clear that he was not speaking of roast pig.

“Doris will show you to your rooms, Reid,” she heard Philip say. “You're across the hall from each other. I hope that's all right. Your bags are in your rooms.”

She pretended not to hear Reid say, “Somebody guessed which was which?”

Philip grinned at him. “What does it matter? Both of you can damned well walk.” He opened three bottles of champagne, rapped one bottle with a knife. “Welcome home, Reid, and welcome to our home, Kendra.” He poured a small amount in a glass, waited until the others filled their glasses and then drank it.

Kendra clicked glasses with Reid, drank half of the champagne and said, “I'm ready to turn in.” She thanked her host and followed Doris up the stairs and down a long hall toward what was clearly an addition to the house's original structure.

“Here you are,” Doris said. “Sleep well. And, Kendra, when I saw Reid walk in here with you, I knew he'd made it, that he was back on his feet. If you don't already know it, you'll discover that he's as solid as they come—a hardworking, capable and decent man.”

She thanked Doris, and opened her room door as Reid walked toward them. She waved at him and went into her room, but she didn't expect him to ignore the fact that she'd be asleep across the hall from him.
If he does ignore it,
she said to herself,
I'll be in that rented car and gone before he wakes up. If I could have only one more thing in this life, I'd ask for one night with Reid.

Philip Dickerson had class, and the pink rosebuds on her night table, the champagne service, grapes, cheese and crackers were further evidence of that fact. She kicked off her shoes, sat on the chaise longue and stretched out her arms. She'd had faith in Reid, but this trip strengthened it. She reached over to answer the telephone, aware that Reid was the caller.

“I understand you've got a cold bottle of Veuve Clicquot over there. Are you planning to drink all of it?”

“If I thought that was a serious question, I might try. I'll share it, but I need half an hour.”

“Works for me. See you later, sweetheart.”

She opened her suitcase, unpacked, took a quick shower, brushed her teeth and had just managed to slip into a green silk jumpsuit at about the time the phone rang.

“I'll be over in a minute. Thought I'd alert you so I wouldn't have to knock too hard.”

She lowered the light a notch and opened the door as Reid was closing his. “I haven't had a kiss in ages,” he said, closing the door.

“It's early yet,” she said. Her kiss on his cheek was intended to take care of his complaint. She stared at him in an open-collared shirt, his belly as flat as the back of his hand and his trousers tight enough to emphasize his muscular legs. She swallowed hard and told herself not to rush him. “Mmm. You smell so good that I feel like sniffing,” she said, and she could see that the comment pleased him.

“You always say things that make me feel great,” he told her. “It's interesting that they put the goodies in your room and not in mine. Somebody figured out that you're a woman who doesn't have to go to a man. Shall I open the champagne? Neither of us has to drive.”

“Let's not kill the whole bottle,” she said. “You, at least, should stay sober.”

Both of his eyebrows shot up as he caught the bubbles with the towel. “I can take that a lot of ways.”

“Sure you can,” she said, making herself comfortable on the gold-colored chaise longue, “but you're a clever man.”

“Really?” He poured champagne into each of the long-stemmed crystal glasses. “I hope I'm clever enough not to make any mistakes with you.”

“I don't imagine you will.”

He clicked her glass with his own. “I don't aspire to be as wealthy again as I was before, but I do want to be able to treat the people I love with as much grace as Philip has shown us tonight.”

She wondered what had brought on that thought. “You will be.” She patted the place beside her. “Sit here with me. Are you sleepy?”

He looked hard at her. “Sleepy? Me? Has something happened to your sense of humor? Sweetheart, if I could have only one thing, I'd ask for one night with you. This night!” He put his glass on the table to the left of the chaise longue, reached down and flipped on the radio. “Let's finish that dance we started at the fundraiser.” The orchestra was halfway through a famous waltz, but she didn't care what tune they danced to; she only wanted to be in his arms. Nonetheless she remained seated, mesmerized as he stood before her with his legs apart and a lover's smile on his face. His masculine aura overwhelmed her, destroying her will to do anything but let him love her. She rubbed her hands up and down her thighs and bathed her lips with the tip of her tongue as her imagination went rampant.

“Are you nervous?” he asked. “I've been talking to myself. Come here to me.”

She sprang into his arms and laid her head against his shoulder, eager to let him lead her wherever he would.

“I'm not nervous,” she said, but she didn't believe her own words.

He stopped dancing. “This is the first time you've ever been totally submissive to me. Baby, why are you trembling?”

“It's been a long time since I…Please, don't ask me any questions.” She moved closer to him and kissed his neck.

Reid stopped dancing. “Sweetheart, if you're planning to send me back to that room across the hall before daybreak, I'd better leave here right now.”

She looked at him from beneath lowered lashes. “You haven't given me a single reason to invite you to stay.”

“I haven't…” She could feel tremors racing through his body, his breaths came faster and shorter, and his nostrils flared, signaling his rising passion. He bent his head, tightened his arm across her shoulders and traced the seams of her lips with his tongue. “Open up to me. I want my place inside you.” She parted her lips for what he'd give her, and he thrust into her. His tongue sent the fire of desire shooting through her, and she sucked him deeper into her mouth.

She needed more, much more. If she could only get him all the way into her. She'd waited so long for this. Years of wanting, longing to love and to be loved, and when he began to stroke her and to move against her with the rhythm of his stroking, a wild and wanton feeling possessed her, and she undulated against him, moving to his beat. She heard her moans of frustration and didn't care.

She wanted him worse than she wanted to breathe, and when he stepped away from her, she moved into him—mindless of what she did—grasped his buttocks and held him while she danced against him.

“Kiss me,” she said.

“What? Tell me what you want.” She unbuttoned the jumpsuit, exposing to him her firm, round breasts.

“Oh, sweetheart!” He lowered his head, covered her left nipple with his warm mouth and began to suck as if his life depended on it. Hot darts danced in her belly and slithered down her thighs until she felt an unearthly heat boiling in her vagina. Groaning from the sweet torture of his biting and sucking, she reached down and stroked him.