Pretense (61 page)

She drove herself over, and as she did, worked at understanding just what she felt for Tom. She wasn't in love, but he had been on her mind lately, and she didn't think it would take too much encouragement for her to fall for him.

By the time she arrived, Mackenzie had decided to tell Tom how she felt. She would tell him she wasn't in love but that she did care deeply, and ask him if he would like to pursue something more. She felt very good about what was in her heart, right up to the moment he answered the door. Something was wrong, and Mackenzie told herself to do lots of listening.

"Would you mind if we talked before we ate?"

"Not at all," Mackenzie told him, going to the sofa. It didn't pass her notice that he didn't touch her at all.

Tom sat in the big chair and looked right at her.

"I need to start by telling you, Mackenzie, that I've never had a relationship like ours before."

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Mackenzie didn't know this, but neither did she comment.

"I've never had a friend who I hugged and kissed the way I do you, and I've never had a girlfriend who I didn't sleep with. For that reason, I can't decide whether I owe you an explanation or an apology."

"I take it something happened?"

"Yes. The type of thing that if you're my girlfriend you've got to know about it. If not, it's really none of your business."

Mackenzie was floored. After all, he'd asked her over; she hadn't pushed her way in. She might have been irritated, but Tom looked as though he was hurting. Mackenzie felt compassion for him.

"Don't tell me anything you don't want to tell, Tom. I guess I don't know how I'd label our relationship either, but don't tell me if you don't want to."

Tom knew he couldn't live with that. He didn't want to talk about this to anyone, but neither could he pretend that nothing had changed.

"The weekend after our fight I went to a bar. I met a woman and we spent the night together." It was out. He was so relieved that he almost sat back with a sigh.

Every drop of her military training came to the fore, even as Mackenzie felt the color drain from her face. If it hadn't been for the paling of her features, she would have looked as calm and collected as any person could be.

"Are you still seeing her?"

"She's called a few times, but I haven't actually seen her."

"But you would like to."

Tom didn't answer, but Mackenzie didn't take that as an immediate yes. And just what was she supposed to say to this?

"Do you feel better now that you told me?" She groped for a reasonable question.

"That depends."

"On?"

"On whether you walk out that door and I never see you again. That wouldn't make me happy at all."

Again Mackenzie was at a loss. She didn't want a man who couldn't be faithful, but he had a fine point: Were they a couple? Mackenzie would have said yes, but not without reservations.

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What if they had been married and he'd gone off in a huff and done this? The question chilled Mackenzie to the bone.

"Trust is such a major factor. I know that," Tom was saying, and Mackenzie tried to attend. In truth, her mind was on the fact that he had been with many women, at least two that she knew of. Was that really what she wanted in a husband? If she became intimate with Tom, she also became intimate with every partner he'd ever had. She wasn't sure why that hadn't been clear to her before, but the films about sexually transmitted diseases she'd seen in high school suddenly came back to mind.

"Mackenzie?" Tom's voice finally got through.

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

He stared at her, telling himself not to cry. "I've lost you, haven't I?"

Mackenzie was miserable, but she had to tell the truth. "I wish I could say no, Tom, but to be honest, I don't think I can do this anymore. I hope we see each other often, but I don't want our relationship to get any deeper."

She almost added that he didn't either. No man, no matter how angry he gets, runs off and sleeps with another woman because of one fight. Or was that the way it was? Mackenzie didn't know if she was naive or idealistic. Right now she was just miserable. Tom's face told her he was no better off.

"I think I'll go now," Mackenzie said. Tom made no comment to detain her. "Thank you for telling me, Tom. Thank you for being honest."

He nodded and stood when she did.

"I forgot to tell you that the next two books will be out next month and that the layout for the first search-and-find is coming along beautifully."

"Great," she said, trying to sound sincere. He looked so hurt. "I'll let Delancey know."

"Okay."

She was quickly at the door, hating the way this was ending and asking herself if it really had to. She left before she had her answer, went straight home, called her sister, and sobbed like a baby over the pain inside her heart.

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Thirty-Four

Chicago

T
he phone rang and Delancey jumped with nerves,

even though she had been staring directly at it. She

had put a call in to Chet Dobson's pager 24 hours

before, regretting it almost immediately. Now it rang five times,

and still she debated. She waited for a few more seconds and

finally picked it up.

"Hello."

"Delancey? It's Chet Dobson."

"Hi," she said softly, trying not to sound winded.

"Did I get you at a bad time?"

"No, not at all."

"I'm glad you called."

"Are you?" She sounded as young and unsure as she was.

"Ohhh-" His voice was soft and smooth. "I can tell you doubted my sincerity at the airport. I'll have to think of a way to convince you that I'd just about given up hope and was ready to hire an investigator."

It was just what Delancey needed to hear. She laughed in delight and felt herself relaxing as they talked about nothing in particular but became familiar with each other again. The relaxation remained until Chet mentioned going to dinner.

"Are you free this Friday night?"

"I think so." Her hand gripped the phone.

"Give me your address, and I'll come for you at 7:00."

"Chet."

"Yes?"

"Would it be all right if I just met you?"

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"Of course," he answered so swiftly that she felt hers relaxing again. "Do you know where the Palmer House is?"

"The hotel? I've heard of it."

"They have a great restaurant. How does that sound?"

"It's fine." She relaxed a little more.

"Okay. I'll see you there at 7:00, or maybe you'd better makeit quarter of. Will that work?"

"Yes."

"I'll see you then," he said softly but didn't say goodbye, can tell you it feels much longer than five weeks since I sat withyou at the airport."

"It does, doesn't it?" Delancey answered, but shebarelymanaged the words. He had been aware of the weeks!

"I'll see you Friday night. Don't be late."

"I won't. Thank you for calling."

"Thank
you.
Goodnight, sweet Delancey."

"Goodnight."

Delancey hung up but didn't move. She felt as though shewere floating on a cloud. The paper that was due in the morning was only half done, but Delancey forgot all about it.eventually floated into her bedroom to figure out whattowear.

"What are you hungry for?" Chet asked Delancey when they had been seated at their table.

"Oh, I don't know," Delancey told him softly. She didn't want to let on that she was too nervous to eat. Delancey thought she remembered everything about him, but when she walked into the elegant lobby of the Palmer House and his eyes met hers, she was amazed all over again at how warm and tender they were and how they looked at her. She felt cherished and desirable all at the same time.

"Did I tell you how beautiful you look?" Chet asked without even looking at her this time.

"Yes." Delancey smiled. He'd said it at least twice. "But thank you again."

He glanced up just long enough to wink at her, and Delancey made herself look down and study the menu. She thought she might be able to eat a little chicken, but when the

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waiter brought someone's steak past, she changed her mind to beef. What she hadn't planned on was the drink waiter coming back first.

"White wine, Delancey?" Chet asked kindly.

"No, just Pepsi please," she said and smiled at the man who hovered near the table.

"Very well. And for you, sir?"

Delancey heard the drink he ordered and wondered what it was. She also wondered if he had far to drive home.

"Delancey, are you worried about getting yourself home? Did the wine at the airport give you trouble?" Chet asked when the waiter left. Delancey wondered if he could read her mind.

"No, but I only drink if I'm in the mood, and I'm not tonight."

"I'm impressed. Most people are not that levelheaded about it."

Delancey shrugged one slim shoulder. "I didn't grow up with it. My parents never drank, and my father warned us against it so strongly that I didn't even try it until my first year in college."

"Is he proud of you now?"

"He died the month before I turned 13."

"I'm sorry, Delancey. That must have been awful for you."

"It was, and ironically, he was hit by a drunk driver."

"Wow. You just never know, do you?"

"Isn't that the truth."

"How did your mom handle it? I mean, were there a lot of you?"

Delancey shook her head. "Just my sister and me, and my mom was remarkable. She went out and got a job and just took care of us."

"That's great. Has she remarried?"

"Actually she did, about two years after my dad died."

"Is your stepfather all right?"

"He was wonderful to us," Delancey said softly, realizing she did not want to talk about this. "But my mother's gone now, and I don't have a lot of contact with him."

Her wonderfully expressive face had closed off, and Chet knew that he needed to back off. She was hurting about something, and he suddenly remembered his comment on the plane

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about the name her parents had given her. The thought made him wonder when her mother had died, but he kept it to himself.

"What did you decide on for dinner?" Chet asked and saw instantly that he'd said the right thing.

"I think a steak. What are you having?"

"The same. Did you want an appetizer or anything first?"

"No, just the salad before the meal will be fine, thank you."

The tense moment was over, and they relaxed into conversation again. Chet had Delancey laughing within minutes. The tall blond had heard of love at first sight but thought it all nonsense. Looking across the table into Chet Dobson's smiling eyes made Delancey ready to believe in fairy tales. He was warm and sensitive and funny. Delancey felt herself slipping away.

Chet was in the same boat. All the women he had known before were suddenly fading from view. He had to work hard in order to advance in the airline, and he was willing to do that, but he was already working on how often he could be with this woman and still meet all his responsibilities. It might take some juggling, but he would find a way.

The evening lasted for hours but felt like minutes to the young couple. When Chet finally walked Delancey to her car, he did so slowly, his hand holding hers. Delancey turned to him with plans to thank him for a wonderful evening, but his head was already bending. It was not a deep, passionate kiss, but one that made Delancey feel loved. She sighed very softly when he straightened.

"I've wanted to do that since I saw you on the plane, sweet Delancey."

"I'm glad you did."

"Thank you for a wonderful evening. Shall we do it again?"

"Oh, yes," she said as a smile stretched her mouth.

"I'll call you," he whispered before turning and moving to his own vehicle. And he did call, but not for two weeks. Nevertheless, Delancey was sitting right by the phone.

Alexandria

It took some time to get over Tom, more time thanMackenzie had figured. She would have said that the first bi of tears was enough, but she was wrong. Always so busy withthebook, she was suddenly at loose ends. She didn't want

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write, and she didn't want to call him and risk getting hurt again. He called once on a business matter but was off the phone so fast that Mackenzie knew he was ready to move on as well.

For a time she did nothing. She didn't run, write, or even eat very often. Never was she more aware of the fact that she didn't make friends easily. Family had always been at the core of her heart, but Delancey was the only one left, and she was busy so much of the time.