For Eric's Sake (9 page)

Brandy had been lucky enough to escape Shaw that evening, but she realized it would only be a matter of time before his stronger will won their battle.

Finishing her bath, and with a towel wrapped around her hair, she pulled on his long terry robe. She had heard him leave the apartment and hoped it was to collect her clothes. She took the opportunity to bundle together a selection of his clothes, deposit them outside the bedroom door, and locked herself in again, pulling the bedcovers high over her head so she wouldn't hear him if he began pounding on the door again.

After he returned, she heard him turn the knob at the bedroom door, but when the door didn't budge, he retreated. As nervous as she was, Brandy must have fallen asleep quickly, the strain and anxiety of the long day finally catching up with her, because the next thing she knew, Shaw's alarm clock, which she had set in time to get Eric ready for school, was buzzing her awake.

Brandy sat up in bed, pulling Shaw's robe, which had served as her nightgown, around her bare body.
Will I end up back in this bed tonight, with him
? she wondered. She couldn't decide if that frightened her more than the thought of Shaw in someone else's bed that night.

She shook her head free of the thoughts. Shaw was his own man. He would take what he wanted when he was ready. She had deterred him last night purely for the moment.

In the bathroom, Brandy splashed cold water on her face and checked her clothes. They were still damp, and she was still at Shaw's mercy, confined to his robe.

She was reluctant to parade out into the living room dressed as she was, even if the garment was totally concealing. Shaw would know it was the only thing she had on, and he would probably take advantage of the fact, but she had to wake Eric and get him ready for school. Besides, Shaw had thought of Eric last night during the heat of their lovemaking. If he could do that, then surely she was safe from his advances—as long as Eric was around. But what would happen after she took Eric to school?

She couldn't bear thinking about it, noticing the seductive curves of her breasts reflected in the mirror, and wondering how she would look through Shaw's eyes. Her body was aroused at the mere thought of him, and that angered her. With his countless affairs, she didn't approve of what he stood for.
Stop it
, she told herself, tying the sash of the robe tightly about her waist. She had to wake Eric now. She'd just have to handle things one at a time.

She found the door unlocked.
So he did know how to get to me. Then why hadn't he
? she wondered.

She left the door wide open as she left the bedroom. Shaw had proved a locked door would never stand between him and the woman he wanted: she suspected very little else would either, when he was ready to make his move.

Eric's door was ajar, and when she peered in she found the covers thrown back and the bed empty. The bath was vacant, too, and as she puzzled about where he might be, she heard him giggle from the direction of the kitchen.

Brandy padded across the deep pile carpet to the kitchen to find Eric swinging his legs from his chair, crumbling toast, and laughing at something Shaw had said to him. Her movement at the door caught his eye and he turned and smiled at her.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Shaw drawled, his gaze stripping her of the robe and placing her back in bed.

Brandy blushed, surprised to see Eric fully dressed and hair combed, and breakfast all but finished. "It's not that late, is it?"

"Electricity went off during the night," Shaw explained casually, pouring coffee and offering her a cup.

Brandy, who normally didn't drink coffee, was so surprised by his show of domesticity that she accepted, and sat somewhat awkwardly in the chair Shaw pulled out for her at the table beside him. "Black?" he asked.

"What?" She had been taking in the collection of pots Shaw had added to her mess from the evening before. Evidently he was adept at cooking ham and eggs and toast, not to mention the fresh-squeezed orange juice she noticed in the pitcher in front of them. "No, the works."

Shaw slid the cream and sugar containers in front of her and continued to eye her softly curling hair and full lips as she tended to her coffee cup.

He was wearing jeans and a shirt from the pile she had left out for him.

"I see you found your clothes," she said unnecessarily.

"Hmmm," he answered.

"Where did you sleep?"

"On the couch," he replied, asking Eric if he'd like a refill.

Brandy was tempted to ask whose couch—his own or someone else's—but a second look told her she had better not push her luck.

"What time is it?" she asked, leaning forward to read the hands on Shaw's watch.

"Seven-thirty. Just enough time for me to shave and change clothes before dropping Eric off at school. I thought you'd never wake up."

Brandy blinked. He was acting as if they had been through this routine for years. Had this been what she had glimpsed in Shaw? That ability to take charge of a situation?

"That's kind of you, Shaw, but I'll get dressed… you did bring my clothes up, didn't you?"

He nodded. "In my closet."

Her mouth dropped open. Not only had he managed to unlock the bedroom door, but had actually entered the room and hung up her clothes while she was sleeping. "I—I'll take Eric to school. I don't want to put you out."

"It's on the way for me, and I have to be at the office about the same time he's supposed to be at school, so it's no trouble."

"Still—"

"It's no problem," he cut into her words. "Besides, Eric and I have a lot to talk about, don't we?" He winked at the small head beside him.

Eric nodded up and down like a co-conspirator, and Brandy wondered what the two of them could have in common after such a brief acquaintance. Still, if they were to be living together for the next few weeks, or months, it was probably best that they get to know each other.

She couldn't help wondering what the topic of their conversation was, and challenged, "Like what?"

"Oh, various things," Shaw said vaguely, "like certain people we both know."

She blushed. Shaw was using Eric, pumping him for information about her. What the poor child could be telling him she could hardly guess, but it rankled nevertheless. She'd just have to have a talk with Eric about it.

"Did you know Shaw has an airplane, Brandy?"

"It's Mr. Janus," she corrected him.

"But he said I could call him Shaw," Eric pouted. "He's not my father, but he's like a big brother. I don't want to call him Mister."

"It's okay, Eric," Shaw intervened. "I want you to call me Shaw. Mr. Janus sounds so old."

Eric beamed. "Shaw has an airplane," he picked up the thread of his conversation as if he had never been interrupted, "and he says he'll take me for a ride in it. Won't that be swell?"

Brandy wasn't so sure, but she smiled and kept her opinions to herself. At least they weren't discussing her all of the time; they were talking about her enough, though, to make her feel outnumbered.

"Well." Shaw pushed his plate aside, and got up from the table. "I'm going to have to hurry if I don't want to be late. Do you mind washing the dishes?"

Brandy looked at the mound of kitchenware in the sink and shook her head. She felt as if she were watching a movie of someone else's life.

Shaw was at the door when he turned back and cast a lecherous look in her direction. "What do you have planned today?" he asked.

Brandy blinked, grasping for some sense of reality. Her entire life had turned upside down in twenty-four hours. What was she going to do about it? she wondered. "I'm not sure. Regroup and rearrange, I guess. I need to contact my agent and let him know how to get in touch with me."

"We're going to have a long talk about your 'career' one day—soon," he promised before he left the room to dress for work.

Brandy stared dazedly after Shaw, eventually realizing Eric was trying to get her attention with all of his talk about Shaw's airplane. It was a four-seater, so there'd be room enough for her, too, he was telling her.
Just enough extra space
, thought Brandy,
for one of Shaw's girlfriends, to tag along, also
.

She stood up, deciding that it was time to tackle the pile of dishes. Eric was babbling on about the airplane as if he was planning to take it to class for one of his "show and tell" projects. Her attempts to change the subject and probe into Shaw's investigation of her went unheeded. Eric was too wound up, tighter than a propeller, on the subject of airplanes to want to talk about anything else. Brandy grinned. Maybe Shaw would have just as much trouble changing the subject as she.
Serve him right
, she thought.

She had just finished washing the last pot and had begun drying the plates when Shaw poked his head around the kitchen door. "You must be quite good at method acting." He startled her.

"What?" She turned around, smiling at the complimentary tone of his voice.

"You get so involved in your roles," he commented. "Anyone looking at you right now would think you were quite a happy little wife, but we both know better, don't we?"

Brandy fixed a grin on her face, refusing to rise to his taunts in front of Eric. "I do hope you have a nice day, Shaw. I'm sure I will after you leave."

"Well?" He hadn't moved from the door.

"Well what?"

"Aren't you going to kiss me goodbye?" His brief glance at Eric implied: this had better be good, unless you want Eric to get the wrong idea about his happy new home.

"How could I forget?" She rushed over to him, intending to peck him on the cheek, but before she could, Shaw caught her in his arms, bending her almost double so that she was entirely at his mercy as his lips plundered her own.

She was breathless when he left her, half from the position he had thrown her into, and half from the devastating kiss. Her legs felt wobbly, that same fluttery feeling she experienced last night in his arms invading her entire body.

"I'll see you tonight," he whispered, eyes gleaming at her disheveled appearance, "and we'll establish a few ground rules."

"Don't count on it," her eyes replied, but she didn't utter another word until both he and Eric were out of the apartment and far enough away not to hear her scream of frustration. What could she do? Shaw Janus was her husband in name. It was only a matter of time before he became her husband in deed as well.

After Brandy got dressed she decided the first thing to do was call her agent. As she dialed the number she hoped he would be in and would have some work for her. She was tired of talking to his secretary and being told, "Sorry, but we haven't had calls for a girl with your height." Being two inches short of the high fashion standard was beginning to get her down. It wasn't supposed to be such a hindrance to girls anywhere but in New York City, but she was beginning to feel it was a burden.

Dean Nixon was out the first time she called, and rather than have his secretary deliver a message, which Brandy often wondered if he ever received, she found out when he would be expected back in the office and called later that morning. Although the secretary was reluctant to put her call through to him, Brandy finally heard his voice.