Present Danger (28 page)

It was amazing. His brothers were finally beginning to do what he’d longed for them to do … they were beginning to grow up and take responsibility for their own lives. Paul was getting on track; Bobby had actually made two payments now on the loan James had given him, and Will … Well, Will was still a horse’s ass, but maybe there was eventual hope for him, too. He hadn’t seen him since the day he’d come looking for money for his girlfriend’s abortion and had damned near gotten his teeth knocked down his throat instead.

All of which meant James was getting his own life back, just as he’d loudly claimed to desire more than anything else. It was kind of funny then that he felt just the tiniest bit lost. He still had Aunie’s problems to straighten out, of course, but that was quite a bit different. For one thing, she neither wanted nor expected him to take charge. She did everything in
her power, in fact, to see that he
didn’t
assume control. Her friggin’ independence could be a real thorn in the side for a man who was accustomed to taking command at the first whiff of trouble.

The front door opened. Well, speak of the devil. James watched her over his beer bottle as she backed through the door and then bumped it closed behind her with her hip. She maneuvred the unwieldy laundry basket through the archway and crossed over to the couch, turning the basket on its side and spilling clean clothes all over James and the couch.

“Half of this stuff’s yours,” she informed him. “So you can help fold it.”

James raised one eyebrow. “I just love a domineering woman.”

“Yeah?” She picked out one of the bandannas she used as sweatbands at the gym and whipped it into a rope. Jumping onto his lap, straddling him with her legs, she quickly secured his wrists in the homemade bondage. She removed the bottle of beer from his hand, twisted around to set it on the coffee table, sat back, and grinned at him. “Hah! I’ve got you in my power now, Yankee dog, so you had better show me a little respect.”

“ ’Zat right? Now that you’ve got me, what, exactly, are you gonna do with me?”

She gave him an evil grin. “Turn you into my sex slave.”

“You’re dressed all wrong for this, Magnolia. Where’s the black leather?”

“Well … I’ve got a pair of spike-heeled black leather boots. Will that do?”

The seriousness with which she considered the matter made him laugh. “You got a whip, too? Leather
bra with the nipples cut out? A spiked dog collar, perhaps?”

“I don’t need all that stuff. I’ve got a garter belt, my boots, and … imagination!” Then she regarded him sourly. “How come you know so much about this, anyway?”

“Occasionally, my taste in movies is very lowbrow.”

“
Dirty
movies?” Her eyes were huge as she leaned back and regarded him with fascination. “Really? Ooh, you dirty old man. Do you wear a raincoat and go to one of those sleazy theaters on First Avenue?”

James laughed. “Sorry to disappoint you, baby, but I rent ‘em from a neighborhood video store and watch ‘em on the VCR.”

“Well, the next time you get one, I wanna watch it, too, okay? I’ve never seen one.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, sure.” He’d have to pick out something fairly tame or she’d be shocked right down to her little pink toenails.

“When? Tomorrow?”

The three creases in his cheek deepened as he grinned at her. Whoever would have guessed that his well-bred little darlin’ would have a secret hankering to see a blue movie? “One of these days,” he promised Then he remembered what Mary had said. “Aunie?”

She was grinning to herself over the prospect of seeing one of those movies, but his serious tone brought her head up. “Yeah?”

“Will you go out with me Saturday night?”

“Out where?”

“Out to dinner, dancing … I don’t know. Wherever you want. On a date.”

The smile that lighted her face was like the dawn breaking. “Really?”

“Yeah. We’ve never dated.”

“I know.”

“So, will you?”

“Oh, Jimmy,” she said and raised his bound wrists over her head until his arms were around her. She wound her own arms around his neck and pressed her face into the side of his throat “I would really, really like that.”

Wesley sat in his beautifully appointed, sterilely clean living room, staring deep into his snifter of fine brandy and brooding. That goddam bitch. She’d ruined his entire life.

He’d given her everything. She’d been nothing but a poor, shirttail relation when he’d first met her. From a good family, certainly, and beautiful beyond belief… but still a virtual social
nothing.
He’d showered her with riches, given her standing, bestowed his prestige upon her. And for what?

So she could turn around and try to destroy his good name with her lies and her sluttish behavior.

He’d had to do everything for her; the tramp never had possessed an ounce of discernment. It wasn’t as if he’d asked her to do anything that would tax her mind; all he’d ever expected her to be was a worthy adornment. Hadn’t he supplied her with the benefit of his excellent taste by choosing her wardrobe?
Hadn’t he counseled her on who was important and who was not? And what had he asked in return? Merely that she be a credit to him.

His eyes burned with a fever that was becoming increasingly familiar to those in his social and business circles. She’d turned him into a laughingstock. First by attending that third-rate college instead of keeping herself available to decorate his lavish functions as a proper wife should, then by openly running around with another man. Wesley hadn’t missed the speculative glances that were cast his way, and he knew exactly where to cast the blame. She was his
wife;
yet instead of being a credit to him, her behavior had ultimately resulted in a public display in court.

Well, she wasn’t going to get away with it. No one made a fool of Wesley Cunningham. Not without serious retribution.

Hers was just around the corner.

The perfect summerlike weather had broken, but even though it was grey and overcast, it was still unusually warm. Aunie and Mary shared a lunch on the shady grass plaza outside the Performance Hall.

“So, anyway,” Mary was saying, “he says to me, ‘Hi, I’m Lance Cameron LaRue’—do you
believe
that name? …”

Aunie was only half listening. Her hand kept creeping to the back of her neck and finally she craned her head around. The short hairs on her nape were standing straight up. Was someone staring at her? She scanned the faces nearby, then those further afield, but she didn’t make eye contact with anyone who seemed inordinately interested in her. She turned back to Mary.

“I feel like I’m being watched,” she murmured, breaking into Mary’s conversation, and her friend’s head snapped up. “Wait a second and then take a look around. See if you can spot anyone, will you?” She paused a beat and then gave Mary a crooked smile. “Lance LaRue?”

Mary laughed. “Yeah. Sounds like the hero of a Western novel, doesn’t it? He had a personality to match. The guy seemed to assume I’d fall into his arms.” Casually, she glanced beyond Aunie’s shoulder, scanning the plaza. She took her time, eyes moving slowly from face to face. Finally, she returned her attention to Aunie. “I don’t see anyone.”

Aunie’s pent-up breath was expelled in a sigh. “I’m probably imagining things.”

“Still,” Mary said.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Still.” She thought a moment. “Lola is picking me up today,” she finally said. “We’re supposed to go shopping for nursery goodies. I think I’d better give her a call and tell her to implement plan REI.”

“Oh, wait, don’t tell me,” Mary murmured. “Something dreamed up by the crusading cartoonist, right?”

“You got it.”

One corner of Mary’s lips quirked up in a wry smile. “This I gotta hear.”

Aunie and Mary met after their last class. They walked together as far as the southwest corner of the reservoir where Mary turned left to retrieve her car. Aunie turned right, crossed the street, walked to the middle of the block, and entered Recreational Equipment Inc. through its main doors.

REI was to Seattle sportsmen and outdoor enthusiasts what Cartier’s was to a serious jewel fancier. Aunie had been fascinated by the place ever since the first
time James had walked her through it while he laid out operation REI.

She couldn’t pinpoint why the store interested her, exactly. It wasn’t as if she’d ever been camping or had participated in any sports except tennis and, back in her school days, a little field hockey. Until her divorce, she hadn’t owned a shoe that didn’t boast at least a three-inch heel, and she was accustomed to navigating the pavements of cosmopolitan cultural centers, not hiking through the hills or shooting the rapids.

Perhaps that was the very reason she found this Mecca for the great outdoorsman so interesting.

It catered to just about every interest group, from backpackers to kayakers. It was housed in a big, rambling building, with ramps to here, stairs leading there. Down in the basement was a bargain outlet incongruously labeled The Attic, and the salespeople in each department seemed to her extremely knowledgeble. They sold sports equipment, clothing, dried foods, and accessories for just about every nature-related hobby known to man.

Aunie meandered through the various departments. Upstairs, she hung over a case filled with Swiss Army knives; she admired the naturist artwork hung in the stairwells; she listened to a customer and a salesman discussing rappelling. Then, at 3:12
P.M.,
she wandered down the ramp to the men’s clothing section.

Fingering a rack of bright Gortex jackets, she kept an eye on the ramp, watching for a tail. One minute passed, then two, and no one appeared except one young man in a plaid flannel shirt who only walked halfway down before he suddenly snapped his fingers as if he’d just remembered something, pivoted on his
heel, and retraced his steps. Aunie slipped through another department past a lone cash register, and exited onto Pike Street at exactly 3:15. Lola pulled up to the curb and Aunie climbed in the car. It immediately shot out into
the
traffic before she even had her door closed. She twisted around to watch the door she’d exited.

“Did you see anyone followin’ you, woo-mon?” Aunie turned back to a normal seated position as soon as they turned a corner. “No,” she murmured. She glanced at Lola. “All those damn self-defense lessons and Jimmy’s little quizzes must be affecting my mind. I probably imagined the whole thing.”

A second later, unseen by either woman, a young man in a plaid flannel shirt rushed out of the Pike Street exit of REI and looked up and down the block. He walked to the corner and scouted that block also. Then he swore, pulled a small black notebook out of his breast pocket, and irritably scribbled a swift notation.

Trust James to have his own ideas about dating etiquette, Aunie thought in amusement as she peeked through the peephole at his knock. She opened the door. “Why didn’t you use your key?” she asked as she looked him over admiringly.

“This is a date,” he informed her, doing some inspecting of his own. “You don’t go barging into your date’s home, you ring for her.” Or so he imagined. Actually, his courting practices had always leaned more toward casual pickups than prearranged engagements. If Magnolia wanted a real date, however, then he was determined to do it right. He brought his hand out from behind his back. “Here,”
he said coming as close to diffident as a man of his temperament ever got as he handed over a cellophane florist’s box, “This is for you.”

“A corsage,” she said weakly. She would not laugh … she would not. She hated corsages, but she would bite her tongue in two before she said so. He was treating this evening out as though they were high school kids going to their senior prom, and she found his sweetness so touching that tears rose in her eyes. She lowered her head and took her time extricating the corsage from its container, refusing to look up until she had herself under control. “It’s very pretty,” she finally whispered. “Thank you.”

He took it from her and picked up her hand. “Look, it goes on your wrist,” he said, sliding it into place and admiring it against the paleness of her skin. “I thought the other kind was sort of dumb, since it was bound to get all squished when we dance.”

Aunie brought the corsage up to her nose and inhaled its heady fragrance, then held out her hand to admire its adornment. Okay, she’d admit it: This one was different. It looked pretty against her wrist, and she loved it. Unlike many of the large, fussy corsages she’d worn in the past, he’d picked one that was dainty and restrained, just two tiny white gardenias nestled in a few of their deep green leaves. It looked old-fashioned and gracious. She raised her eyes to his and smiled, her dimples slowly denting her cheeks. “Thank you, James.” Standing on tiptoe to give him a kiss, she then stood back and trailed her fingertips over his smooth-shaven cheeks and jawline. “You look great.”

He did, too. No conservative suit for James Ryder; his formal attire was as individualistic as he was. She’d never seen him in anything but casual wear, but
tonight he was wearing a pink shirt tucked into pleated slacks. A superfluous but snazzy pair of narrow, powder blue suspenders clung to his broad shoulders, bonded to chest and flat stomach. His tie was funky: blue to match his suspenders, with an old-fashioned sugar cone at its southernmost tip supporting four scoops of pastel-hued ice cream. He wore a raw silk jacket with the same casualness that he wore his habitual T-shirts, and in the lapel was a bouton-niere, a dainty pink rosebud.

Standing close to him, Aunie brushed her hands over his broad shoulders, adjusted the knot in his tie, and smoothed its tail down his hard chest and abdomen. “I’ve never seen you in a tie,” she murmured. “I’ve never seen you dressed up at all.” She fluttered her lashes. “Ah sweah, suh, you look good enough to eat.”

“Why, thank you, Miz Scarlett,” he replied, inserting a rough-tipped finger into a shining curl of hair and gently pulling on it. “So do you. I’m glad you wore that dress.”

It was the same one she’d worn the night she and Mary had celebrated finals. She had debated wearing something instead that he’d never before seen, but of the several outfits she’d tried on and discarded, this one had simply kept calling out to be worn. She’d curled her hair, carefully applied more makeup than usual, including glossy red lipstick, and donned her sheerest hose and tallest pair of heels.

“Give me one little kiss to tide me over and then we’ll hit the road,” James said. “Our dinner reservations are for eight.”

Laughing at a remark James made as he held open
the
apartment house’s front door for her, Aunie slipped beneath his arm. She grabbed his hand to
pull him down the stairs with her, then stopped dead at the sight of a long white limousine double-parked in the street. Bobby, in uniform and cap, climbed out of the driver’s seat, walked around the hood, and held open the back door. She turned to James, dark eyes sparkling with delight. “For us?”

“None other.” He guided her into the plush interior and grinned at his brother when he gave them a respectfully solemn salute before he closed the door. “Can’t have a dress this hot ridin’ around in an old Jeep.” He handed her a fluted goblet of champagne and leaned over to press an impulsive kiss into the exposed portion of one white shoulder. “God, you’re beautiful.”

For once those words were music to her ears. She wanted to be beautiful in James’s eyes. She hoped he saw other, worthier attributes as well when he looked at her, but for tonight… she could live with beautiful.

He took her to the Space Needle. It was a mild May evening and the rotating view was spectacular. After dinner, they walked around the Center. James insisted on a game of put-put golf, and after tripping around the tiny course in her inappropriate heels, Aunie retaliated with bumper cars. Ultimately, they ended up in a dimly lighted bar in Pioneer Square, swaying to the smoky rhythms of a blues band.

It was around midnight when he heard her murmuring into his tie. He tightened his hold and lowered his head. “What?”

They swayed in place for a couple silent heartbeats. Then Aunie rubbed her cheek against his chest. “I love you, Jimmy.”

Ah God. James took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut, heart pounding into overdrive. He had tried—God knows he’d tried—but he just couldn’t
fight this anymore. His hands slid upward until they were framing her face and he bent down to kiss her, there on the dance floor. “God, I love you, Magnolia,” he said hoarsely.

Aunie stopped dancing and her forehead dropped against his chest. Her arms exerted more and more pressure around his neck. Finally, he heard her mumble into his shirt, “I was beginnin’ to think I’d never hear you say that.”

“Yeah, well.” James’s laugh was more an exhalation of breath than an actual verbalization of humor. He struggled with second thoughts, knowing he probably shouldn’t have said anything. Nothing had really changed, after all. Hell, all the reasons he’d had for keeping his feelings to himself were still valid.

“Don’t make the mistake of thinking they’re magic words, Aunie,” he felt compelled to warn her. “Just admitting it out loud isn’t gonna make anything easier. It won’t make your problems go away.”

“Speak for yourself, James. Hearin’ it makes things a whole lot easier for me. Tell me again.”

There was so much pressure in his chest. “I love you.” The words were forced out through a constricted throat.

She seemed to pick up on his tension. Dark eyes searched moss green ones. “Are you sure, James?”

Was he sure? The pressure started to ease. He might have reservations about his timing, but he wasn’t the least bit uncertain of his feelings. “Oh, yeah,” he replied. “I’m positive.” His smile was crooked. “How about you? Are you sure?”

“Oh, yes.” She pressed tiny, smacking kisses along his neck. “I’m very, very, very sure.”

“God.” His arms closed so tightly around her she squeaked in involuntary protest. “Sorry, baby,” he
murmured as he loosened his hold. His hands slid up her slender arms until they connected with her wrists behind his neck and he pulled her hands loose. Slipping them down to his chest, he pressed them against his shirtfront, one long finger nudging the browning petals in her corsage as he looked down at her. “Let’s get out of here, Aunie.”