From the Heart (14 page)

“It's the first present I ever made,” Alison said anxiously. “Rose the kitchen maid taught me. I made some mistakes.”

Kasey tried to raise her eyes, tried to speak, but could do neither. She stroked the awkwardly crocheted scarf with her fingers.

“Do you like it?”

Kasey looked up and nodded helplessly. Her eyes were already brimming over.

“Women,” Jordan said, tucking Alison's hair behind her ear. “Some women,” he corrected, “tend to weep when they're particularly happy. Kasey's one of them.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Kasey managed and took a deep breath. “Alison, it's the most beautiful present I've ever had.” She gathered the girl into her arms and squeezed. “Thank you.”

“She really likes it,” Alison said, grinning at Jordan over Kasey's shoulder. “Do you think she'll cry if you give her yours?”

“Why don't we find out?” Jordan reached under the tree for a small, square box. “Of course, maybe she's not interested in any more presents.”

“Of course I am.” Kasey drew out of Alison's arms. “I'm very greedy on Christmas.” She took the box from him and drew a deep breath. Opening it, she felt her heart lurch for the second time that morning.

She held the gold, finely etched drop earrings, remarkably similar to those she had seen the day she had bought his
unicorn. She looked up at him and shook her head. “Jordan, how did you remember something like this?”

“I haven't forgotten anything you've told me. I thought this went with it.” He handed her another box, this one long and flat, then smiled as she hesitated. “I thought you were greedy on Christmas.”

Kasey opened the box and found three thin gold chains ingeniously twisted together to form one. “It's beautiful,” she murmured.

He took the chain from her fingers and clasped it around her neck.

Kasey swallowed, then laid her cheek against his. “Thank you, Jordan.” She scrambled up. “I'm going to see about some coffee.”

“She liked yours, too,” Alison told him and shifted her guitar. “She was crying again.”

When Millicent brought coffee and croissants into the drawing room fifteen minutes later, she stood balancing the tray and stared. In all her years in the Taylor household she'd never seen anything like it. Papers and ribbons and boxes were everywhere. And Mr. Taylor was wrestling with a puppy in the middle of it all.
Mr. Taylor!
Miss Alison and Miss Wyatt were giggling. No, she'd never seen anything like it, not in this house.

K
asey intended to keep herself very busy when she left Palm Springs. First she was going home. She had made her decision; New Year's Eve would mark her last full day with Jordan. All she had left to do was tell Jordan. After looking at it from every angle—from hers, from his, from Alison's—Kasey had decided to wait until the first of the year. Her flight was booked. It would hurt less if the hours between weren't heavy with the knowledge that they were the last ones. She'd cram everything she could into that final twenty-four hours.

“I'd have had you in the third game of the second set if I hadn't double-faulted.” She swung her racket at the air as she and Jordan walked from the tennis court. “And if you hadn't served to my backhand in the fourth game of the second set, I would have won that one, too. You really are a vicious player, coming into the net like that.”

He took her racket, a bit leery of the enthusiasm she showed in swinging it. “Look, there's Alison by the pool. She appears to be dutifully doing her homework.”

Alison glanced up as they approached, waved, then settled back with a sigh. “Uncle Jordan, I don't know what to do about this assignment.”

“No?” He set the rackets down on the umbrellaed table. “What is it?”

“I have to list five items typical of the nineteen-eighties.
Something I'd put into a time capsule to show future societies what our culture was like.”

“Alison.” He grinned and ran a finger down her nose. “Why ask a writer when you have an anthropologist?”

“Oh, I forgot.” She looked up at Kasey. “What would you put in a time capsule?”

“Let's see.” Kasey narrowed her eyes against the sun a moment. “A stalk of wheat, a container of petroleum, an MOS chip, a cassette of punk rock music and a pair of Gucci loafers.”

Jordan laughed. “And that's your encapsulization of the eighties?”

Alison frowned as she scribbled. “What's an MOS chip?”

“It's a—”

“Oh, no.” Jordan stopped Kasey's explanation cold. “Don't get her started, Alison.”

“Well,” Alison said, frowning at the list doubtfully, “I suppose I'd better think about this some more.” She gave Kasey a look that told her she'd been little help, then left to work out her problem indoors.

“I'm not sure that Alison or her teacher is ready for your opinion on our society,” Jordan commented.

“It was my educated analysis of our culture as it stands today, from technology to fashion. You know, Jordan, you really look hot after that tennis match. You should cool off.”

She gave him a firm shove and sent him backwards into the pool. He surfaced, pushing his hair from his eyes. “Impulse,” she claimed and grabbed her middle as she laughed. “I've never had a firm control over impulses.” Saying nothing, he narrowed his eyes and swam to the edge. “Sorry, Jordan, but you really did look hot. I'm sure the water's wonderful. You're not mad, are you? I'll help you out.”

She'd no more than offered her hand when she realized her mistake. He took it firmly, then grinned at her as he gave it a quick tug and sent her headlong into the water. She came up sputtering.

“I had that coming, I suppose.”

“So you did. How's the water?”

“Terrific.” She treaded water with one hand and pulled off a sneaker with the other. “I've always thought”—she tossed
the sneaker over his head and out of the pool—“that when you find yourself in an inevitable situation, you should make the most of it.” She lofted her other shoe, then, doing a surface dive, streaked along the bottom.

She jerked when Jordan's hands took her waist. He turned her, and she found herself tangled with him in an underwater kiss. Her heartbeat jumped from normal to frantic, and she clung to him. When she surfaced, her pulse was still soaring.

“I was making the most of an inevitable situation,” Jordan murmured and caught the lobe of her ear in his teeth.

“You scared me.” She took a deep breath. “I should never have seen that shark movie.”

“We don't stock sharks in the winter.” He ran a hand through her hair. “It's nearly copper when it's wet and the sun hits it. The first day you were here I stood at my window and watched you swim. I couldn't get you out of my mind even then.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder. It was so difficult to be strong when he was gentle. She wanted to tell him again that she loved him, that it was breaking her heart to have to leave him. She didn't know, even then, what she would do if he asked her to stay. Or perhaps she did, and that was why she had made her plans without telling him. They couldn't go on as they were, and she saw no future for them. If he could love her . . . . But Kasey shook her head and drew away from him.

“I'll race you,” she challenged. “I'm a much better swimmer than tennis player.”

He smiled. “All right, I'll give you a head start.”

Kasey lifted her brows. “That is an assumption of male superiority.” She pushed her hair from her eyes. “I'll take it.”

She was off like a rocket in a flurry of water. Even with her advantage, Jordan reached the far edge two strokes ahead of her. Kasey wrinkled her nose at him. “Of course,” she began and stood in the shallow water, “if I'd grown up in a pool . . .”

She noted that he was paying no attention to her words. Following his eyes, she glanced down.

The T-shirt she had worn modestly enough on the tennis court now clung to her breasts. Rather than a cover, it was an
erotic invitation. Her brief shorts were molded wetly to her hips and upper thighs. Naked, she would have been less of a temptation. Water ran slowly down the sleekness of her hair.

“I think this sort of swimming apparel belongs in deeper water,” Kasey decided and pushed away from the edge.

She was in his arms before she was halfway across the pool. His mouth took hers, hungry, quickly desperate. They lowered below the surface again, tied to each other. Kasey hung on as a mixture of fear and passion ran through her. There were sensations of weightlessness, of claustrophobia, of helplessness. She might have fought against them, but the will had slipped from her, and she held him tighter. He brought them up, and air rushed into her lungs.

“You're trembling,” he noticed abruptly. “Did I frighten you?”

“I don't know.” She held on and let him keep them above surface. “Oh, Jordan, I want you,” she breathed. The need was unexpectedly urgent and powerful.

His mouth found hers again. His excitement was doubled by the desire he felt pouring out of her. “How long can you hold your breath?” he murmured.

“Not long enough.” She gave a shaky laugh and searched for his lips again. “Not nearly long enough. Will we drown?”

“Probably.” His hand ran down her side, to her hip, to her thigh and back to her waist. “Do you care?”

“Not at the moment. Just kiss me again. Just kiss me and don't say anything.”

She couldn't bear it. By that time the next day she would be on a plane. She wouldn't be able to reach out and touch him, to feel his hands on her. She would have the taste of him only in memory. These three months out of her life would be swallowed up by whatever was to come. How could she leave? How could she stay? Already the price she was going to have to pay seemed overwhelmingly high. Then she'd take something else for the bargain, she thought. One last night. One full, last night.

“Jordan, let's not go to that party tonight.” She drew away from him, wanting to see his face. “I need to be alone with you, the way we were in New York. Can't we go someplace,
just for tonight? Tomorrow's a whole new year. I want to spend the last night of this one with you. Just you.”

“A suite at the Hyatt?” he murmured. “Champagne and caviar? I seem to recall you're rather fond of caviar.”

“Yes.” Her grip around his neck was quick and desperate as she brought her cheek to his. “Or pizza and beer at the Last Chance Motel. It doesn't matter. I love you.” She couldn't stop herself from saying it. “I love you so much.” Her mouth fastened on his before he could speak.

“Jordan!”

Beatrice's voice broke through the quiet. Jordan drew his mouth from Kasey's without hurry.

“Mother.” He glanced up, keeping an arm around Kasey.

“Back so soon?”

“What are you doing?”

“Why, I'm swimming,” he told her easily. “And kissing Kasey. Was there something you wanted?”

“You're aware that we have servants who could wander out here at any time?”

“Yes. Was there something else?”

Beatrice's eyes flared, but she kept her dignity. Kasey was forced to admire her for it. “Harry Rhodes phoned. He needs to see you in an hour on business. He says it's quite important.”

“All right. Thank you.”

“You've made her angry, Jordan,” Kasey commented when Beatrice left them.

“I'll probably make her a good deal angrier,” he mused. It was time for some changes, he thought. Some definite changes. The house was his inheritance, but it might be wise to turn it over to her and take Alison elsewhere. And Kasey . . . Kasey was something else. Well, they had the whole night to talk about it, he decided and pulled her close again. “If you're ready when I get back from talking to Harry, we can start early.”

“Talk fast,” Kasey told him.

 

Kasey had just dried her hair when the knock came at her bedroom door. “Come in.” She opened her closet. The green
dress again tonight? she wondered and pulled it out. “Hello, Millicent.”

The maid hovered in the doorway. “Miss . . .” Millicent folded her hands in front of her and looked uncomfortable. “Mrs. Taylor would like to see you—in her sitting room.”

“Now?” Kasey fingered the material of the dress she held.

“Yes, please.”

I might as well get it over with, she thought and hung the dress back in the closet. It was going to be unpleasant. If she hadn't known it already, the maid's face told everything.

“All right, I'll go right now.”

Millicent cleared her throat. “I'm to take you.”

Kasey sighed. She could hardly blame the maid. “Lead on,” she invited, and followed her.

Millicent knocked on Beatrice's door, turned the knob, then hurried away. Kasey took one last deep breath and entered.

“Mrs. Taylor?”

“Come in, Miss Wyatt.” Beatrice never turned from her ivory toned desk. “And shut the door.”

Kasey obeyed and found herself itching for a cigarette. The room was oppressive and, she thought, as difficult to live with as the woman. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Taylor?”

“Sit down, Miss Wyatt.” She waved her hand toward an Edwardian chair. “It's time we had a chat.”

Kasey seated herself and awaited the inevitable.

“You've stretched your time here as far as possible.” Beatrice turned to her now and folded her hands on the desk.

“Are you concerned with Jordan's research, Mrs. Taylor?”
You can't hurt me today,
she told herself.
It's my last one.
“Why don't you tell me just what's on your mind, Mrs. Taylor, and spare us both,” she said aloud.

“I've checked your credentials.” Beatrice tapped a gold pen against the desk. It was her only outward sign of emotion. “You seem to be considered an expert in your field.”

“You checked up on me.” Kasey could feel the anger rising and tried to stem it.

“In doing so, I learned you're Samuel Wyatt's granddaughter. I'm slightly acquainted with his daughter, your aunt. There was quite a scandal years back concerning you. A very unfortunate affair.” She tapped the pen again. “A pity you
didn't stay with your aunt rather than being raised by your grandfather.”

“Please.” Kasey's voice had lowered. “Don't make me angry.”

Beatrice noted she had cracked Kasey's calm. That had been her first objective. “You weren't in your paternal grandfather's will.”

“You have done your share of checking.”

“I'm a very thorough woman, Miss Wyatt.”

“But not one to quickly come to the point.”

“The point, then,” Beatrice agreed. “Apparently you're financially solvent but hardly . . .”

“Loaded?” Kasey suggested.

“In your vernacular,” Beatrice conceded. “Your stay here has been a very lucrative arrangement for you. It's quite understandable that you would pursue the possibilities of future rewards by ingratiating yourself with Jordan and with Alison.”

“Future rewards?” Kasey felt the burning start in the pit of her stomach.

“I didn't think I'd need to be graphic.” Beatrice set down the pen and folded her hands again. “Jordan is a very wealthy man. Alison will come into a very healthy inheritance at maturity.”

“I see.” Kasey struggled to keep her hands still. “You're implying that I hope to benefit financially by developing a relationship with Jordan and Alison.” She gave Beatrice a long, level look. “You're a hard lady, Mrs. Taylor. Doesn't it occur to you that I'd care about them regardless of the size of their bankbooks?”

“No.” Beatrice let the word hang a moment. “I've dealt with your type before. Alison's mother was one, but my son wouldn't listen. He chose to marry her over my objections and move halfway across the country. Of course,” she said as she sat back and eyed Kasey, “the problem is different in this case. Jordan has no intention of marrying you. He's satisfied with an affair. Again, in your vernacular, you overplayed your hand.”

Kasey wanted to throw something. She wanted to rip some holes in the perfection of white that surrounded her. She sat
rigid with control. “I'm aware of the boundaries of my relationship with Jordan, Mrs. Taylor. I always have been. You don't have anything to worry about.”