Night Whispers (48 page)

He was still smiling about that when he walked into the foyer and Courtney intercepted him at the front door. "I guess this is goodbye," she said, looking somewhat subdued for Courtney. "Paul said he didn't think anything he said made much difference to you. Don't be angry with me for bringing him here, okay? I don't want you to go away angry with me." She leaned up on her toes and to Noah's shock she put her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss goodbye.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were actually going to miss me," he teased.

She shrugged. "I will."

"Really? I didn't know you even liked me."

His suitcases were in the car already, and he reached down and picked up his briefcase. She was watching him, trying to detect his mood, Noah knew, and she was clever enough to pick up on something that was giving her hope. "I would like you a whole lot
more
if you'd forgive Sloan."

Over her shoulder, Noah saw Douglas standing in the living room, watching him with the same hopeful expression on his face that Noah heard in Courtney's voice. Eager to leave and see Sloan, Noah winked at his father and turned toward the door. "Well, okay if it would really make you like me a whole lot more."

That was all she needed to hear. She started pushing her new-found advantage to the limits. "You know," she added irrepressibly as he opened the door, "what I'd really like more than anything is if you'd
marry
Sloan and stay in Palm Beach."

Noah laughed, wrapped his arm around her, and kissed the top of her springy curls. She took that as a "yes" and followed him out onto the porch. "Noah," she called eagerly as he slid into the back seat of the car, "I'd make a really terrific
aunt
!"

His shoulders shaking with laughter, Noah closed the car door.

«
^
»

T
he helicopter's rotor was still whipping when Noah reached the main deck, looking for Sloan. He passed one of the crew who was securing the deck furniture in preparation for getting under way, and rather than waste time looking for her, Noah said abruptly, "Is Miss Reynolds aboard?"

The crewman knew only three significant things about Miss Reynolds—the rumor among the crew was that she'd been a close friend of the FBI agent who'd caused his employer's ship to be impounded; she'd been accused of murder; and she'd been brought aboard by his employer's young sister who told the crew to keep her presence a secret The man decided his safest course was complete ignorance. "No sir, not as far as I know."

Noah nodded and frowning, he walked up the exterior steps to his stateroom. It would have been impossible for the launch or the helicopter to have arrived without the crewman on deck noticing that. Apparently, Sloan had changed her mind about coming to talk to him, which seemed very odd.

Shoving his hands in his pockets he stared at the king-size bed where he'd shared so many hours of stormy passion and quiet conversation with Sloan and he began to wonder how much truth there'd actually been in Richardson's defense of her. The woman Noah had watched on that videotape wouldn't have been afraid to confront him if she were innocent.

Sloan stood in the doorway behind him, working up her courage. She'd had a few hours to think about the reality of what had happened between them, and despite Courtney's belief that Noah would be willing to forgive and forget, and everything would be rosy once he saw her, Sloan didn't think that was true. This wasn't a fairy tale. The reality was that she loved him with all her heart, but she had brought him nothing but public humiliation. The reality was that Noah had never said he loved her, he didn't believe in marriage, and he didn't want children. Besides that, they were from two entirely different worlds. The most she could hope for now was honesty during this last visit and perhaps, someday, his forgiveness.

She stepped forward, shaking with nerves, fortified with determination. Noah had his back to her, his hands shoved in his pockets, head slightly bent, as if he was lost in thought. "I came to say goodbye," Sloan said softly.

His shoulders tensed, he turned around slowly, his expression unreadable.

"I came to ask you to forgive me, and I know that will take you a long time." Sloan paused to steady her voice, her eyes pleading with him to believe her and understand. "I don't blame you for how you feel about me. I wanted to tell you the truth so many times, but Paul was afraid you'd say something to Carter." Trying to keep her voice from shattering with the love and sorrow she felt, she drew a long breath and then went on. "I should have told you anyway, because I knew in my heart you wouldn't. But in a way, it's best that things came to such a quick end for us. It would never have worked out for us."

He spoke for the first time. "It wouldn't?"

"No." She gestured toward the elegant stateroom. "You're you… and I'm… me."

"That's always been a tremendous drawback for us," he said, straightfaced.

Sloan was so shaken that she didn't catch the thread of amusement in his voice. "Yes, I know, but that wouldn't have stopped me from falling more hopelessly in love with you every day. You don't want marriage, and I would have wanted to be your wife."

"I see."

"I love children," she said achingly. Tears were blurring her vision so badly that she could hardly see him.

His gaze on her, Noah reached down slightly and pulled the cover back on the bed.

"And you don't want children."

He unbuttoned the collar of his shirt.

"I would have wanted to have your baby."

He unbuttoned the next button…

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E
very table in the exclusive Palm Beach restaurant was occupied and people waiting for tables were crowded into the bar and in the foyer at the front.

The telephone at the maitre d's desk rang and he picked it up. He listened to the caller, frowning because he couldn't hear. "I'm sorry, who is it you wish to speak to?" he asked, cupping his hand over his free ear in an effort to block out the noise. "Yes, the Maitland party is here now. I'll call her to the phone."

The maitre d', whose name was Roland, was new at the Remington Grill. He located the table reserved for the Maitland party on his chart, then he threaded his way through the restaurant to a table at the back.

Three women were seated there: One of them was a stunning blond in her early thirties; one of them was an elegantly dressed blond in her late forties who looked enough like the other woman to be her mother; and one of them was a dark-haired teenager in an appalling outfit who didn't look like she belonged with the other two women or amidst the exclusive clientele of the Remington Grill, either.

Since Roland wasn't certain whether the caller had asked for Mrs. or Miss Maitland, the maitre d' took the safe path. "Pardon me, Ms. Maitland," he said to the three laughing females. "I have a telephone call at the desk for you."

All three women looked inquiringly at him.

"For which one of us?" the teenager inquired.

"For Ms.
Maitland
," Roland emphasized, a little annoyed at the trouble he was being put through.

"You're new here, so let me explain," the teenager said pertly, clearly relishing his predicament. "You see, I am Miss Maitland, and this"—she nodded to the younger blonde—"is my sister-in-law, Mrs. Noah Maitland. And this"—she indicated the older blonde—"is my sister-in-law's mother, who is Mrs. Douglas Maitland. However," she added, laying down her trump card with a mixture of glee and pride, "she is also,
my
mother."

Roland's brows levitated with suppressed ire. "How delightful."

Sloan slid her chair back and took pity on the man. "That call is probably for me. Noah telephoned from Rome and said he might be able to come home tonight instead of tomorrow."

Noah walked quietly upstairs and deliberately surprised his three-year-old daughter in her bedroom. "Daddy!" she exclaimed, rushing toward him in her robe and pajamas while the housekeeper disappeared into an adjoining room. "You're back early!"

Normally, Noah would have swept her into his arms, but he was hiding a present for her behind his back, so he grinned at her instead.

"Aunt Courtney was here today!"

"I can tell," he said tenderly.

She tipped her head to one side and it made her long blond corkscrew curls dance. "How can you tell?"

"Your dreadlocks."

Sloan found Noah on the terrace with their daughter on his lap. They were sitting in the moonlight, whispering about something. "Daddy's home!" Ashley exclaimed.

Noah looked up and saw Sloan, and his eyes were warm with love and a silent greeting.

"We've been telling secrets," Ashley confided. Beaming, she leaned close for Noah to whisper another secret to her. Then she looked at him and said, "Can I tell Mommy that one?"

"Yes," Noah said solemnly.

Ashley matched his tone. "Daddy says he loves you very, very,
very
much."