My Little Runaway (Destiny Bay) (10 page)

Jennifer stayed glued there for another hour. Nothing much was going on, but it held her with a strange fascination. Her mother and father were inside that house. So near and yet so far.

She fantasized walking up to the familiar front door and banging the huge brass knocker. The maid would be unknown to her—her mother never could keep maids longer than six months at a time. A stranger would open the door.

“May I see Mrs. Thornton, please?” Jennifer would ask, and then suddenly, there she would be, walking quickly on her short legs, always in high heels, always taking two steps to everyone else’s one.

“Jennifer?” she would say in astonishment, her pale blue eyes wide. They would stare at one another for a long moment, and then joy would suffuse her mother’s face. “Oh, Jennifer!” she would cry, flinging herself into her taller daughter’s arms. They would rock each other, holding tightly, laughing through a torrent of tears, laughing as though nothing would ever separate them again.

Jennifer stared at the house below, her eyes huge and dry. “Nice try, honey,” she told herself caustically. “Send it to Hollywood. Maybe they’ll believe it.”

Funny. She’d come to accept the way things were a long time ago. She’d made her peace with the facts. She hadn’t turned out the way her adoptive parents had wanted, and they’d washed their hands of her. It was as simple as that. She knew it on an intellectual level.

But her emotions couldn’t seem to get the picture. The hopes kept springing up, working their way around the certainties she tried to lay down on top of them. That same little scenario had been with her for years. And it was so phony. It could never be.

Someone was walking away from the house. She stiffened, holding her breath and watching intently. He turned, bent to pick up a stick, and walked on. It was her father.

She could call to him right now, lean out the window and yell, and he would turn . . . and she would say . . . She closed her eyes and shook it away. Not yet. She wasn’t ready. But she did press closer to the window, trying to see how he looked.

He was too far away to tell, but it seemed to her his walk, as he disappeared down the beach, was slow and labored, not full of the energy he’d always had in such abundance when she’d been a child.

She sat right where she was until he came back, and she watched him go into the house. And then she got up, grabbed her guitar, and made her way outside, to the garden on the opposite side of the house, where she could sit under the rose arbor and play. She couldn’t cry, but playing would be her release.

She wasn’t sure just how much time went by. She lost herself in her playing, and then, suddenly, there was a man watching her. He was young, in his early thirties, and handsome in a blond, suave way. Dressed in tennis whites, he looked lean and elegant, with a slim gold watch on his tanned wrist.

She gazed at him questioningly, her lips slightly parted, and his eyebrow rose quizzically.

“Who are you?” he asked as though not quite believing what he saw.

“Jennifer Thornton,” she replied openly. “I’m staying with Reid for a few days.”

His dark eyes took in her entire body in one raking glance, and a predatory gleam lit his face. “Oh, I see.”

He didn’t see at all, but she didn’t bother to clarify his misperceptions. It wasn’t worth the effort. If he wanted to think she was some girl Reid had picked up someplace and installed in his house for the weekend, who was she to spoil his little fantasies?

“Who are you?” she returned, watching him. He looked friendly, but she wasn’t sure she trusted him.

“Dan Winslow,” he said. “Reid’s law partner.”

“Oh.” Her smile became more welcoming, but it quickly faded again as she met his gaze. His dark eyes were insolent and frank in their appraisal. Her own eyes narrowed defensively, and then she realized why he was looking at her that way.

She hadn’t expected to see anyone, so she’d pulled on brief shorts and a skimpy tube top that barely covered anything. Not the outfit a young society miss would be caught dead in. She squirmed uncomfortably and wished she’d thought of the possibility of company from the beginning. Why was it that she always seemed to be inappropriately dressed for any occasion?

“Where’s Reid?” he asked, his gaze lingering where her breasts pushed out, high and firm, against the stretchy cloth. “Not at home at the moment, I take it.”

His rude insolence in looking over her body was insufferable, and it was doubly insulting because she knew he would never look at a woman he considered his equal that way. He thought she was cheap and easy and therefore fair game. That made her very angry— both for her own sake and for all the women of the world who didn’t deserve to be treated like meat on the hoof, no matter where they came from or what they did.

“No,” she replied stiffly, hoping he would take a hint and leave soon. “He had a meeting. But he said he’d be back this afternoon.”

Dan nodded, seemingly oblivious to the barb in her voice. “I just flew in from Washington myself, and haven’t been to the office. We have a tennis date at three, and I thought I’d catch him here.”

“A tennis date?” Despite her anger, she smiled
.
She remembered those.

“Doubles,” he pointed out unnecessarily, and her smile disappeared again.

Doubles could mean only one thing—two lovely ladies would be waiting for these two handsome gentlemen to join them. “He didn’t mention anything about a tennis date to me.”

 
“Well, no, but he wouldn’t have, would he?” His smile was supercilious.

He really thought she was a bimbo! Her eyes narrowed and her tongue came out, catlike, and she licked her lips. There must be some way to pay this insolent character back in kind.

“I suppose not.” She deliberately made her eyes very big and batted the lashes at him. “I’m not real good at tennis.”

He chuckled, leaning arrogantly against the post holding up part of the arbor. “Don’t worry, honey,” he drawled. “I’m sure you’ve got plenty of talent in other areas to make up for it.” He sank down on the chair across from where she was sitting, the guitar still in her lap.
     

“Where’d you pick up—I mean, meet Reid, anyway?”

“You mean this last time?” she asked, making her voice kitten-sweet.

“There’ve been others?” He grinned, looking more and more like a lascivious wolf with red meat in his sights. “You must be good, sweetheart.”

She looked down, pretending modesty. “Reid’s been a good friend to me,” she said.

“I’ll bet.” He reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear so that he could get a better view of her pretty face. “I wouldn’t mind having something as cute as you waiting for me at home every day. That ought to make work fly by.”

She gazed at him. “Why don’t you get married?” she suggested dryly, noting the absence of a ring on his finger.

“Married?” After the first shock he laughed and pulled back to slap his own knee. “Don’t be silly, darling. This is my decade. I’m like a starving man at a banquet. There’s no way in the world I’d stay home with a meat and potatoes dinner when I’ve got a wealth of gourmet delights to choose from.”

Ah, the legendary “swinging single.” She’d found him at last. She wished they both were at his mythical feast right now so that she could turn the punch bowl over on his head. What an obnoxious man! How in the world had Reid become tied to him?

“How long do you think you’ll be . . .staying with Reid?” he asked, giving her what he probably considered his bedroom look.

And she had no doubt it worked, She had to admit he was a good-looker. Too bad he couldn’t be stuffed so his physical attributes could be enjoyed without having to wade through his atrocious personality.

“Just another couple of days, I think. Why?” Her eyes were wide and innocent.

He leaned close, touching the strings of her guitar, his gaze caressing the silky expanse of naked skin on the inside of her thigh. “I could be a ‘friend’ to you, too, Jennifer. Give me a call when you’re finished here. I’d love to have you as my guest for a few days.”

“Gee, that sounds nice.” She blinked at him as though she hadn’t quite heard correctly. “But what exactly do you have in mind, Dan?”

He frowned suspiciously, then decided she was playing games. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you. You won’t go away dissatisfied.” He grinned. “In any department.”

She played a few chords and gazed at him sideways. “What kind of guarantees have I got?” she asked quietly.

“What? You want references?” He put a hand on her knee, his index finger moving in a rhythmic circle that left no doubt as to where his interests lay. “Or a demonstration?”

She wanted to slap his hand away, but she forced herself to leave it alone for another moment. “I just want to know your intentions.”

“My intentions?” He grinned. “Strictly dishonorable, believe me.” His fingers tightened on her flesh. “I intend to give that luscious body of yours the treatment it deserves.”

At last resort she could always hit him with the guitar, she decided. He needed hitting. But not quite yet.
 

“What do you mean?” she asked innocently.

His puzzled look contained the first seeds of doubt. She knew he was beginning to wonder if maybe she wasn’t half-witted, after all. He took her chin in his hand and stared hard into her eyes. “I want to take you to bed, baby . . . What did you think?”

There was the sound of a footstep on the flagstone walk, and Jennifer glanced beyond Dan’s head.
 

“Oh, hi, Reid.” She waved a cheery welcome, and Dan jumped to his feet, whirling to face his law partner.

“Look who’s here,” Jennifer went on, eyes burning with devilment. “Your friend Dan. He’s just asked me to sleep with him. What do you think, Reid? Should I do it?”

Dan’s face turned a fiery red, and Jennifer stifled a chuckle. She was glad she’d had an opportunity to give him some of his own medicine.

Reid looked utterly mystified. “What the hell’s going on here?” he demanded.

Dan opened and shut his mouth twice before he got started on his explanation. “We were just having a talk, just kidding around.”

“He thinks I’m your bimbo,” Jennifer said brightly. “He offered to take over when you drop me. I thought it was awfully decent of him. Don’t you agree?”

A storm was brewing in Reid’s icy eyes. “This is Jennifer Thornton, Dan,” he said coldly. “As in Thornton Electronics. She’s an old friend.”

“Oh . ..” Dan cursed, glanced at Jennifer, and swung away. “Listen”—he turned toward Reid—“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I—what can I say, Reid? I had no idea . . .”

“I think Jennifer is the one you owe an apology to,” Reid said, but when his gaze met hers, there was condemnation for her also.

Dan apologized, and when he turned to Reid, she could see that there was a solid relationship between them that she’d tampered with. Suddenly, she began to realize what she’d actually been doing here. It hadn’t really been fair to either one of them to trap Dan this way. All her satisfaction fled.

“Tennis doubles at the club,” Dan reminded Reid, still a bit red-faced.

Reid nodded. “Give me a few minutes to change.”

He threw a piercing glance at Jennifer. “You change, too. You can come along.”

“But what if someone sees me there?” Jennifer protested. “One of my parents’ friends ...”

“You won’t run into anyone,” Reid told her abruptly. “Your parents don’t see anyone anymore.”

With a sigh she relented. She didn’t really want to go at all. It was too great a risk. But she was feeling so remorseful for what she’d done to Dan—and indirectly to Reid—that she went meekly up to her room and searched diligently for tennis whites, even though she knew she hadn’t packed any.

“Here.” There was a brusque knock on the door to her room. When she opened it, Reid handed her a tennis outfit of his mother’s. “She’s a little rounder than you, but these ought to fit.”

She took them. “Thanks.” She searched his eyes. “I’m sorry,” she began, but he shook his head.

“It’s those silly clothes, you know,” he exploded all of a sudden. “If you dress like a tramp, you can’t really blame people for taking you for one.”

She stared at him, hurt. He was exaggerating just a bit. She wasn’t dressed like a tramp. Her only sin was that she wasn’t dressed like a rich woman either. Still, she got his point. Turning, she let him close the door, and she put on the clothes he’d brought her.

Looking into the mirror, she frowned at the unfamiliar picture she made.

“Tennis, anyone?” she murmured sadly.

CHAPTER SIX:
 

Tennis Anyone?
 

The atmosphere was warm and congenial. Rich leather, highly polished wood, and plush carpeting provided a quiet yet extremely elegant decor. Clearly, it was a country club for the very wealthy. It made a most definitive statement.

Reid watched Jennifer speaking to an old friend, and his gaze lingered on her, enjoying how she looked in the tennis dress, its white blouse edged with powder blue. Her irrepressible curls were tied back with a blue velvet ribbon, and fluffy white socks were turned down to meet white tennis shoes, setting off her long, golden legs.

Reid thought back to the anger that had assailed him when he’d walked into the rose arbor and seen Dan touching Jennifer, looking as though he were about to kiss her. His first instinct had been to kill Dan. A primitive urge. But that was how he felt about Jennifer. Primitive. He always had.

He was still angry—angry at himself, at the situation, at Jennifer. He knew she thought he was angry because she’d worn a sexy outfit that had brought out Dan’s worst instincts, but that wasn’t really it. She looked so darn cute in those shorts and the stretchy tube top—he’d blazed with jealousy to think that she might respond to another man, when he wanted her so badly.

So now he’d dressed her up in the proper clothes and brought her here to the club to show her off to everyone.
 
What was he doing . . . going crazy or something?

“Down this road lies madness, Carrington,” he mumbled under his breath. “It’s about time to clean up your act.”