One Night With You (17 page)

Reid walked over to shake hands with the man, skipped the preliminaries and asked, “Why do you want to see me?”

Reginald English stood, tall, gray-haired, chalk-white and blue-eyed. He extended his hand. “I've been trying to find you for a good eighteen months. I was about to give up when I mentioned it to Marcus Hickson, who's rebuilding my son's grand piano, and he told me where to find you. I want to build an office building and a vacation house on the Outer Banks. I want them stormproof, and that means money. You can do it.”

Reid sat down. If he did that job, he could call his shots. “You didn't tell anyone that I solicited this job, did you?”

“Me? Hell, no. I've never spoken to you before. Is there a problem?”

He decided to let it all hang out. Telling the truth never hurt. “Do you know why my architectural firm folded?”

English crossed his knees and leaned back. “Of course I know. When I enter into a business deal, I know all there is to know about the other party. You're back on your feet now, and I assume you're going to contest that judgment. I can recommend a crackerjack lawyer.”

“Thanks. I'll get to that,” Reid said, careful not to show his hand.

“Well? My only reason for coming to Queenstown is to get your signature on a contract, Mr. Maguire. I've had a man examine over half of the buildings you designed, and I'm satisfied that you'll bring me something solid and exquisite.”

“Thanks for the compliment. How may I reach you? You're asking for a decision that I can't make at this time.” Moreover, he wanted to talk with Jack Marks, now that Jack had evidence of his innocence in respect to that accusation. Once you're down, people find it easy to step on you. He was grateful to Marks for giving him a job as an architect in spite of his blemished reputation, but not so grateful as to accept an unwarranted rebuke. He wanted an apology or he was out of there.

Reginald English stood, and in Jack Marks's presence, he said to Reid, “You don't have to work for anybody but yourself. All right, so you got the short end of the stick and you didn't deserve it, but what about the thirty-some other buildings that bear your name? Not to speak of private houses. They're a testament to your competence. I waited eighteen months, and I'm willing to wait another twelve.” He handed Reid his card. “I'll be expecting to hear from you.” He turned to Jack. “Thanks for your help, Mr. Marks. Good day, gentlemen.”

Reid watched the man leave the office, then turned to Jack. “It's your call, Jack.”

“Look. It was unfair of me to accuse you without first hearing you out, and I'm sorry about it. I saw myself losing you, just when I'm ready to accept a job that, frankly, I don't think any of my other architects can do. And it's been so long since I designed a building more than fifteen stories high that I'm probably not up to it, either. But you can do it.”

“That's a tempting offer, Jack, and he'll pay whatever I ask. I won't mislead you. I'm going to give it serious consideration. I appreciate your confidence in hiring me, all things considered, but I have to be honest with you.” He looked Jack in the eye, saw that the man regarded him with heightened esteem and asked him—not because he was seeking advice, but because he wanted Jack Marks to show his integrity or lack of it. “If you were in my place, would you take that job?”

“You don't pull punches, do you? I expect I would, if for no other reason than it would allow me to form my own company again. That's what you're after, isn't it? And of course, it's bound to be a lot of money.”

“I know. The name
English
is synonymous with wealth and has been for generations.”

Jack made a pyramid with his hands and propped his elbows on his desk. “It hurts me not to be able to take on the job of designing the tallest building in Chowan County. But if you leave, I'll have to pass it up.”

“This town won't support two architectural firms, Jack, so I have to think this thing through.”

“Well, let me know your decision as soon as you can. I won't hold you to your contract. That would be unconscionable.”

“I didn't think you would. Besides, it has a release clause that I could probably meet. See you tomorrow.” He couldn't wait for four-thirty; he had to get out in the fresh, clean air, spread his arms and pay homage to life. He didn't remember ever having felt so free, so strong, so capable of changing the world. For two cents, he'd reach up and fly. He got into his car, his very own car, and headed home, wrapping his deep baritone around the words of his favorite song “Shenandoah.” Shock reverberated through his system; he hadn't heard himself sing in years. What a day!

Already, as he drove, he sensed that mental stress—something he hadn't felt since he went to Dickerson Estates—had begun to creep up on him as his mind dangled his options by the weight of their positive aspects. A building's design and its plans represented a hefty percentage of the cost of any building, and Reginald English would erect a building that was a credit to his name. As for the summer house, that would surely be a mansion. But could he risk leaving a sure position with a promise of a junior partnership—Marks, Connerly and Maguire, Architects—for a job that, although it would carry fame and prestige, was unlikely to last more than two and a half years, if that long. He didn't need that dilemma.

At home, he parked in the underground garage of his apartment building, rode the elevator up to the first floor, walked slowly into his apartment and closed the door behind him. Everything looked the same, but he didn't feel the same. As if he were tied to a bag of helium, he could hardly prevent himself from floating up to the ceiling. If only his father were alive to rejoice with him. He was, at that moment, experiencing his psychological ascent from that deep, dark pit, and he needed to shout it to someone who would appreciate how far down he'd been. He telephoned Philip.

“I just had to share this, man,” he said to Philip after they'd greeted each other. “You're the only person who knows how far down I was, so I want you to be the first to hear this.” He told Philip about Reginald English's offer and Jack's counteroffer of a junior partnership less than an hour after having accused him, in effect, of lacking integrity. “I've never been easily overwhelmed, but, man, this is a plateful.”

“Surely you're not wondering what to do?”

“In fact, I am. Mad as I was at Jack, I still have some allegiance to him because he gave me a chance when others didn't.”

“How many places did you apply to before you got a contract with Marks and Connerly?”

“Five. Four firms turned me down, and I received an offer from a fifth one after I signed on with Marks and Connerly.”

“As far as I'm concerned, Marks hired you because he knew you'd be gunning to prove yourself, and he'd get a bargain. He knew your history as an architect. Look, it's up to you, of course, but I'd go for it. What does Kendra say?”

He scratched his head. Why hadn't he called her before he phoned Philip? Then he remembered: Kendra didn't get home until around five o'clock. “She's still in court, so I haven't told her, but I pretty much know what she'll say. I asked Jack what he'd do, mostly because I wanted to test his integrity, and would you believe he said he'd take English up on that offer?”

“If he's an honest man, he couldn't have said otherwise. I can see that a partnership at this stage of your life, the past considered, sounds tempting, but don't forget that your status as an architect has been higher than that. When do you think you can get back down? I bought a summer place right on the bay. If the weather's good, we can fish and swim for a whole weekend.”

At the moment, a weekend on the Chesapeake Bay held about as much interest as the art of catching butterflies. He had to decide what to do with his life. “As soon as I get my head straightened out, man, I'll let you know. Thanks. Somehow, the estate is the place that means home to me, so I'll get down there whenever I can.”

“Make it as often as you can, brother. Your room will always be empty.”

Reid went outside and sat in his garden, which had been his reason for taking the terrace apartment. He kicked off his shoes, pulled off his socks, stepped on the lawn and let the blades of grass tickle his toes. He had a sense of being completely alive. The Dutch irises, planted by some previous occupant of his apartment, bowed in reverence to the brisk wind, and he turned to face the breeze and receive its exhilarating magic. Ah, what a day!

“I think I'll go down to the Sound,” he said to himself, but when he looked at his watch, he saw that in a few minutes Kendra would be home. He put on his shoes, locked the door of his apartment, got into his car and headed for the market. He wanted to do something special for her, something different. He walked through the supermarket, but could find nothing that interested him, so he went to the fishmonger and bought four large lobster tails, then went back to the supermarket and got what he needed to complement the lobster. Finally, “I'll take that nice red one,” he said to the woman who sold roses beside the newsstand.

“This is Reid,” he said when Kendra answered the phone. “Did you eat yet? No? That's good. May I come over in about forty minutes for a while?” He listened more to her voice than to her words of welcome. At times, the sweetness of her voice captivated him. He hoped that he would never get used to it. He showered and dressed, steamed the lobster tails and put them in the picnic basket along with the remainder of the meal, got the rose and two bottles of white wine and walked through the alley to her house.

“I was watching for you at the front door,” she said, and took the rose from him and kissed his cheek. “Oh, Reid, sometimes, you touch me right where I'm most vulnerable. Thank you.” She saw the picnic basket. “What's that?”

“Allow me the pleasure, ma'am, of serving your dinner.”

He shifted his gaze, for he was sure that her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and if one teardrop left her eyes, he knew that—considering how he was feeling—that lobster would be ice-cold by the time they ate it.

T
his man had more ways of locking himself into her heart. She was in trouble, big trouble, and she knew it. She had looked at him standing there with a rose in one hand and a picnic basket in the other one and told herself that she had better not cry, that crying because a man showed that he cared was juvenile behavior. But she couldn't help expressing her feelings, so she kissed his cheek, took his hand and pulled him into her house.

She kissed the rose and asked him, “Are we having a picnic?”

“No, madam, I have prepared your supper, and if you will lead the way to the dining room, I will set the table and feed you.”

A funny, drunken sensation settled in her stomach, and she leaned against the wall in the hallway that led to the kitchen and looked straight into his eyes. “I'm a strong woman, Reid, and I've proved it to myself many times, but when I got a broken heart wasn't one of those times. You shower me with affection and caring, but if it's…if it's because there's nobody else available, I want to know right now.”

He put the basket on the floor and stared at her. “I came to you because I'm bursting with happiness, because my ship came in today, and I want to celebrate it with you. Why do you think I would hurt you? Do you doubt me?”

She shook her head. “I'm feeling so much in here, Reid.” She pointed to her heart. “It just scared me all of a sudden.”

“Let me hold you.” His lips brushed her forehead, but she could tell from the tension in his body that he was using an inordinate amount of self-restraint. “You will hurt me long before I hurt you.”

Regretting her moment of weakness, she said to him, “Come on in here. When you called, I had been wondering what to cook for my supper.” She put the rose in a bud vase and watched, marveling, as he set the table with utensils from the picnic basket, and placed the warm lobster, a bowl of butter sauce, steamed tiny waxy potatoes rolled in butter and minced parsley, asparagus tips and a green salad. He poured two glasses of Château de Rodet, a rich white burgundy, bowed and held a chair for her.

“Madame, dinner is served.” She sat down and dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. “What's wrong, Kendra? If you cry, I won't be able to eat.”

“I'm not crying. My eyes do this sometimes. This is wonderful, and I love lobster. I wish something good would happen for you.”

“Something good has happened.” He told her about his day and added, “Sweetheart, I feel as if I could fly with my own wings. If you knew…

“Ten months ago when I left Dickerson Estates, I saw a rough road ahead. I'd been so far down. When I stopped Philip on the street in Baltimore, I was ready to commit suicide. I hadn't eaten in almost three days, but I wouldn't stoop to stealing. I asked him for a dollar, and he asked if I wanted a chance to rebuild my life. I had nothing to lose, so I went with him. And now this.

“Loyalty is deeply ingrained in me, Kendra. My father poured it into my head. Jack needs me, but I need to work at my full potential. If I take a junior partnership, I'll be fixed for a long time, because Marks and Connerly are the top firm in this entire region. But I'll be selling myself short.”

“I can't believe you'd even consider turning Reginald English down. Tell Jack you'll design that building for him as a consultant, if he likes, and reestablish your own firm. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn't sweat over that.”

“You're serious, aren't you? Even knowing that after a minimum of four years I could be without work, you think I should do it?”

“If Jack Marks has a dozen of the best architects around, and he thinks none of them is as capable as you, why would you worry? You can do anything you set out to do. Anything. Only such a man as you would be able to pull himself up—even with help—and come out of pure hell unscathed.”

He lifted his glass of wine with fingers that he could barely control. Finally, he had to steady the glass with his left hand. “I brought us some dessert,” he said, and couldn't let himself lock gazes with her, an indication that his composure had slipped, “but if you continue to say these things to me, I…doubt we'll eat it tonight.”

“Please, Reid,” she said, and he knew that his eyes mirrored the desire that threatened to strangle him. “I can't afford to slide into an affair with you.”

“We're having an affair whether you can afford it or not,” he heard himself say in a voice that seemed to him unnatural, more like a growl. “I want you this minute so badly that I think I'll explode. You can't know what it does to me when you—a woman of your accomplishments—let me know that you believe so strongly in me. No other woman ever made me feel as if there's nothing I can't do. Kendra. I need to give myself to you.”

“Honey, we're headed for heartbreak. Both of us.”

He stood and walked around the table to her chair. “Why? We're both unattached. Why can't we love each other? I'm tired of sneaking around to spend time with you. A judge is human, and a female judge needs male company as much as any other woman.”

“Yes, but suppose your case comes before me? I could be fired as a judge and disbarred as a lawyer. I want to do all I can to ensure that you get a fair trial.”

“I hear you, but you're overstating it. I'll get a fair trial, because I've done my homework.” He pulled her chair back from the table and lifted her into his arms. “You gave me heaven, and now you tell me I can't have it? Until that night in your arms, buried inside your body, I didn't know who I was.”

Tremors raced through him when he recalled the minute he had exploded inside her. “For the first time in my life, I held back nothing, and I didn't want to, because you gave yourself to me without reservation. I'll never forget it, and I want it. I need it. I need
you.
” He could feel her relax as the tips of her nipples hardened against his chest.

“You said we'd go to Cape May. Even if we went public, so to speak, you shouldn't be seen leaving my house late at night.”

“I'll never knowingly expose you to censure or ridicule. You mean too much to me. And I'll do what I can to avoid it.”

“You didn't eat all of your potatoes,” she whispered, grabbing at anything that would reduce the tension between them.

“Potatoes are not what I want in my mouth right now.” He let his eyes mirror his feelings, wrapped his right arm around her shoulder and let his left fingers stroke and pinch her erect left nipple. She grabbed his wrist, and though he knew what she wanted, he didn't accommodate her, but waited until, frustrated, she guided his hand into her scooped-neck blouse. He freed her breast, lifted her to fit him, sucked her nipple into his mouth and suckled her until she undulated against him.

“Reid. Honey. Get into me.” She locked her legs around his hips and pressed herself to his erection.

“Not here, sweetheart. I need more than this.”

“I can walk,” she said when he picked her up, but he ignored her and carried her up the stairs to her bedroom. He hardly glimpsed the lavender taffeta in a sea of white, including carpet and window treatments, as he unzipped her dress and let it slide to the floor. When she stepped out of it, he rose to full readiness, threw aside the covers and put her on the bed. “You said you love me, Kendra, and I'm holding you to it, because I need you to love me.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her lips. “You're everything to me.”

Her arms opened, reached out to him and happiness suffused him. In a flash, he shed his clothing and lowered his body into her waiting arms. How had he been so fortunate as to find a woman like her? Her fingers stroked his back, his buttocks, every place that she could reach, and then she let him know that she wanted him to lie on his back. With her tongue, she fired his libido as she teased and sucked first one aureole and then the other. Warm, feminine fingers danced on his belly, promising him heaven if she would only move lower. She skimmed his inner thighs, barely touching him, until his body rose to meet her hand, but she ignored his rising frenzy and explored his testicles.

He heard his moans as she toyed with him. Finally, when he thought he'd go insane, she grasped his penis in her hand and stroked him. Nearly mad for the feel of her moist lips, he cried out, “Take me. One way or the other, but stop tormenting me.”

His body nearly sprang upward when her breath, warm and sweet, fell on him. She wrapped her arms around his hips, imprisoning him, and took him into her mouth.

“Oh, my sweet, sweetheart.”

He steeled himself, concentrating on self-control. She had no technique, but she made love to him as if he were the most precious…“Kendra. Easy, honey. Stop. Listen to me, baby. St—” He pulled away from her, using force to separate them.

“Come up here, love. Did I hurt you?”

“No. Why? Can I…?” She didn't finish the question, but evidently realizing her advantage, she mounted him and took him with her to a shattering climax. She fell over onto him, clearly exhausted.

“Why did you decide to do that?” he asked her later when he was able to get his breath back.

“You needed me.”

He turned over, putting her on her back and looked down into her face. “I'm having trouble believing that any woman could be as selfless as you were a few minutes ago. You didn't want anything for yourself. You only wanted to make me feel good. If you're serious about not wanting an affair with me, you just killed the possibility. I'd have to have a Herculean will to stay out of your arms.”

She had given him everything a man could want, and he meant to repay her in full and then some.

“Are you tired?” he asked her.

She shook her head. “Who, me? No, indeed.”

To his mind, her reply gave him license to love her until she screamed for relief. After leaving nothing to her imagination, stimulating every nerve ending in her body, he tested her for readiness.

“Do you want me?”

“What do you think I am, a piece of wood? You can ask me that when you know I'm going out of my mind?”

He wanted to shout for joy because he had her where he wanted her, irritated and frustrated. “Take me in, baby,” he whispered.

She swung her body up to him, grabbed his penis and he sank into her. Within minutes, she began thrashing wildly beneath him, begging for completion, and he took her on a wild ride to that place reserved for them alone. She flung her arms wide and gave herself to him.

“Are you all right?” he asked her when he could get his breath.

“I guess so. Oh, Reid. That was…Is this going to get better each time?”

“The more we learn about each other, the more skilled we should become in pleasing each other.”

“I don't want you to get any more skilled than you are now. Believe me, that's skill enough for me. You had me feeling as if I was going to die sure enough.”

“Yeah? What do you think you did to me?”

She wrapped her legs around him and purred like sated feline. “You got what you asked for.”

He stared down at her, a warm bundle of sweet mush. Compliant and yielding. His lover. “I love you,” he said, and for some reason his willingness to say that without provocation seemed strange, even worrisome.

Kendra didn't doubt that her heart belonged to Reid Maguire. Her problem was the unknown. She believed that Reid would protect her from any semblance of harm, to the extent that he could, but if she behaved in-discreetly, he could not protect her from the law. And “the law” would respond to anyone who decided to complain that, for a judge, her behavior was unseemly.

Deciding that she needed a focus other than Reid, she telephoned her sister, Claudine, and invited her to spend a week, now that school had closed for the summer. “It's very nice here, and you can swim in the Albemarle as often as you like. It's only four short blocks from my house. We can go boating, too, but not very often, because the winds tend to come up suddenly. How about it?”

“Okay, but don't let me cramp your style.”

Wasn't that precisely why she'd called her? “When are you coming?”

“I signed up to teach summer school because I didn't have anything else to do, but I don't start till Monday week, so I could come this weekend. Sure I won't be in the way?”

“Listen, Claudine. You're talking to Kendra. Am I in the habit of deliberately making problems for myself?”

“Well, no. What's the nearest airport?”

“Caution Point.”

“Okay, I'll let you know what time I'll get in Friday afternoon.”

On Friday, with the county clerk sitting in her court, Kendra was reluctant to adjourn an hour early in the afternoon in order to drive to Caution Point to meet her sister. She recessed for ten minutes, went to her chambers and called Reid.

“Are you going to Caution Point today?”

“Why?” She told him of her difficulty in meeting her sister. “All you have to do is ask, sweetheart. I have an office right in the airport terminal building, and I can work there as well as here. What's her name?”