Her Unexpected Affair (The Robinsons) (37 page)

But that wasn’t all the good news she had for Court. Instead of only the summer, she’d be extending her stay indefinitely. Forever. The thought made her dizzy with delight.

Upon reaching the doors to the reception hall, Jean stopped and rested a hand over her abdomen. She had one more surprise for Court. One she prayed would thrill him to his bones. One that would give him the leverage to work around his father’s manipulations. Like the song from a few years before, their future was so bright, they’d both have to wear shades. A silly grin crossed her face as she started through the wide open doors.

Soft string ensemble music drifted across the room. The event was exactly as Court had predicted. Proper Englishmen and their ladies talking quietly, mingling, as much to see as to be seen. For a week, he’d bemoaned the fact that instead of seeing her off at the airport, he had to attend this stuffy reception put on by his father’s company. Not interested in the décor, she searched the sea of bodies in semi-formal wear, looking for one particular blond head. The men wore sharp suits of worsted wool with silk ties, the women cocktail gowns in various levels of fashion and expense. The student interns and freshly graduated new hires were easy to pick out, by not only their youth, but by the less expensive clothing and the nervous smiles on their faces. Because Court’s family owned the company, she looked beyond the students and concentrated on the older attendees. The people Court had known since the day he’d been born.

One bright head stood out. Danielle Richards, the hiring contact. If not for Danielle’s call hours before, Jean would have been boarding a plane just then. Jean headed for Danielle, who certainly knew Court and could help Jean find him. She merely had to work her way through to the other side of the large ballroom.

Descending the steps into the crowd, she plowed ahead, exchanging nervous smiles with the three or four people she recognized from classes.

Among the glittering bodies, various scents perfumed the air and queasiness assaulted Jean for a moment. Something that had never bothered her before the past week. She and Court figured she had a mild touch of flu, or possibly food poisoning like she’d had right after arriving in January. The call from the student clinic this afternoon had negated that theory.

A glint of Danielle’s bright copper hair through the crowd assured Jean she was still on the right path. A few more steps and her gaze briefly met Danielle’s. Someone stepped in and cut off the line of sight before Jean could take a second look at what appeared to be mild alarm on the other woman’s face. Jean glanced behind her to see what might be happening that would cause the hiring director’s reaction. No, nothing unusual there. Jean pressed forward once again.

Like the sun prying back a thick layer of dark clouds, she saw his golden blond hair through a parting of bodies. His back to her, he stood near Danielle, part of a circle of immaculately groomed men and women, a mix of older and younger.

Finally, she eased past a knot of distinguished men and stood directly behind Court. On a deep breath, she assessed the situation. The group he stood with contained two older couples, important looking men and their society wives, all perfectly dressed and bejeweled. A younger woman with a sleek blond bob stood at Court’s left. Too close, but he came from people who knew people and had friends he’d been raised with. This could be one such. Across the small circle, Danielle was the only other person Jean recognized. A person who’d been friendly. Although the expression on Danielle’s face wasn’t exactly comforting.

Court began to speak, and Jean was able to hear him clearly, see clearly as his left arm came up to encircle the waist of the blond woman at his side, the action surprising her. If his shoulders looked a bit stiff, the movement a tad forced, she seemed to be the only one who noticed.

“Danielle, I’d like you to be among the first to know, Bea and I will be married next weekend. There isn’t time for formal invitations,”—his chuckle was forced—“we’re expecting, however, we’d love you to attend.”

The timbre was Court’s, but the tone and the words couldn’t be his. Dizziness surged in Jean’s head. She took a step back and clamped both hands over her now roiling stomach. The air had evaporated from the room and darkness framed the edges of her vision.

“Court…” Danielle said, doing her best to keep her face clear of emotion. Jean could see it, could hear the strain, as the other woman’s electric blue gaze locked on her.

Jean swallowed against rising nausea and took another step back, bumping into someone’s chilled glass of something. The shock of cold liquid dribbling down her back froze her in place.

In an almost dreamlike parody of slow motion, Court’s arm dropped from the woman, and he slowly turned. Jean’s gaze flew to his face as it came into view. His skin took on an ashen cast, as his eyes widened above his slackening jaw. For a long moment, it was all she could see.

“Courtland?” The sharply spoken word from the blond woman broke the spell. “What is it, darling?”

Jean’s breath rushed back into her starved lungs, and her heart jolted into triple time, rushing adrenalin into her system. It was the spark she needed to turn on her heel and push through the crowd.

“Jean!”

She heard him call after her. Heard Danielle call after her, but didn’t stop. Escape was the one thought in her head. Later she’d think about Court’s announcement. But now there was room for only one instinct pounding through her veins. Run.

Snippets of his history came to her as she forced her way past people now expressing their shock at her rudeness. The girl he’d practically been engaged to since they’d been in nappies. The horrible break up days before Jean had tripped him in the library. The stories of his family and how he was expected to take over the business one day, like generations of Lynfords and Robinsons before.

Above all, the vision she couldn’t reconcile with the words he’d just said, Court’s face smiling down at her. His voice saying, “I love you. I’ll come for you. We’ll have a wonderful life.”

As she broke through the edge of the crowd and rushed into the lobby, she thought she heard Court call out her name one more time, but from a distance. She didn’t look back. Couldn’t look back. Adrenalin pounding through her veins powered her forward. A doorman opened the heavy outer door.

“Miss?”

His enquiry went unacknowledged as she rushed by, headed for the cab parked at the curb.

“Taxi!” she called out.

Surprised, the doorman who’d recently helped her from a cab, leaped to open the door for her.

“Miss? Everything all right?”

She shook her head and climbed into the cab.

“Where to, miss?”

“Home.” It was all she could think of. She could be at Heathrow in a few hours where she’d wait until a seat opened on a plane headed for New York. From New York she’d get a plane to San Francisco. There, she’d figure it all out.

“Where’s home, miss?”

“Away from here.” Tears blurring her vision, she met the cabbie’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “Just drive.” No one had followed her out the door. Especially not Court. His words echoing in her head tore her heart to shreds. The cabbie turned around and slowly eased into traffic.

Unable to stand it, she gave into temptation and looked back through the tears welling in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. The sidewalk remained empty of anyone she recognized. Only the doorman looked after her.

The image of Court’s face rose in her mind. Merry blue eyes, laughing at her driven need to experience everything Anglo, jokes about her attempts to learn the Brit accent, the little presents of Earl Grey tea, crumpets and flowers he brought her. The rose petals he’d scattered on her bed last night where they made love pretending to be in an English garden. The flower pressed between the pages of her favorite novel, a sweetly scented bookmark and reminder of his promise they’d be together.

From the dark and dreary February day when she’d accidentally tripped him in the library, her world had been filled with sunshine and laughter. He took her places, both physical and emotional, she’d never have discovered without him. Small shops, hidden parks, intimate pubs, classic tea houses, historical sites, and the places known only to locals. To heaven, where he wrapped her in soft clouds of love, like the weekend in the country where they hiked green fields and pretended to be Robin Hood and Maid Marian. A better friend, guide, and lover she couldn’t have asked for.

“I need an address, miss. Or an intersection at the very least.”

Of course the man needed a direction. Jean wiped tears from her cheeks and wrapped her arms around her middle. “Houghton Street,” she said. She needed a direction, too, knew where she was headed in the next twenty-four hours, but had to take baby steps to get there. “Houghton Street and then Heathrow.” One step at a time.

Twenty-two years later

East Bay Area, Northern California

Bent over the open oven, Randi figured only serendipity could have timed her daughter’s arrival for Thanksgiving dinner quite so well.

Already up for six hours, most of that time spent in the kitchen, Randi was ready for her first glass of wine. A real glass, not a sip from the bottle she’d poured over the bird. So much for her resolve to become a new woman in her fabulous forties. A couple years in and she still harbored doubts about how fabulous the forties were. However, a person should always seek to improve herself, right? All well and good, nevertheless, this new woman clung to a few old habits she didn’t want to give up, such as nipping from the bottle of wine intended for basting the turkey.

“Mom!” Birdie’s voice rang through the house like a bell.

“In the kitchen,” she called back. Steam from the oven frizzed her hair and bathed her face as she basted the bird. There went the efforts of an hour spent plucking eyebrows and applying her makeup just so. Well, instead of a fashion plate, the picture of a sophisticated California hostess, she’d be Wyatt’s picture of the perfect woman—glowing from the heat of the kitchen and probably smelling of turkey as well. Too bad he wasn’t here to celebrate. Death had a way of ruining family gatherings.

Instead, Randi expected her father and Birdie, both bringing visitors from out of town with no place else to go. Strays had always been Randi’s specialty, especially for holiday dinners.

“Smells great, we’re starving!” Birdie moved into Randi’s peripheral vision. As bright as a sunny day with her long, honey blond hair, Birdie lit up any room, especially with her smile, cheerful disposition, and her clothing. Occasionally, Randi considered her child’s bubbly nature positively nauseating. But not today. The semester had dragged on and contact with her daughter remained too infrequent. Stanford may have been a mere hour across the Bay, but it might as well have been across the country for all the time Birdie had to spare.

Randi shoved the heavy bird back into the lower of the stacked double ovens and straightened with a hand on the small of her back as she lifted the door shut. Yeah, cool sophisticate she so was not. Had she wanted to present such an image, she would have ordered the complete meal, cooked and ready to serve, delivered from the upscale grocery store down the hill. “Bird should be done on schedule this year. This time I bought a fresh one, not frozen.”

“Your dinners are always perfect, and thirty minutes late doesn’t count. Mom, come meet our guests.”

Ah yes.
The mysterious Drew, a grad student from overseas Birdie had met the previous week after tripping over his big feet in a coffee shop. Not only Drew, but his father, as well, visiting the states on business, timed for Drew’s first big American holiday. The widowed father. A match to her widowed mother status.

Great. It was bad enough her father also asked to bring a guest, a single man of a certain age. In other words, old enough for Randi. But now her daughter had joined the game? Lately, it seemed as if an invisible milestone had passed, one declaring her mourning period complete, and, apparently, someone had declared open season on finding dates for her. Funny, her heart hadn’t reached the same conclusion yet.

Well, let these possible future dates get a good look at the new woman. The one thinking about thinking of dating again.

Since Birdie generally preferred jeans, Randi raised an eyebrow at the dress her daughter wore. Navy flats were more in keeping with her personality, though Birdie showed off a pair of still nicely tanned legs. Randi was about to comment, but Birdie beat her to it.

“Wow.” Birdie stopped and stared for moment. “Great look,” she whispered, then took Randi’s arm and dragged her into the foyer where two tall men stood. So the extra hour of shaving, shining, plucking, and painting had been worth it? Despite the steamy glow she certainly sported at the moment, and no time to powder it away.

Not wanting to acknowledge the matchmaking attempt of her daughter—the man was a foreigner for crying out loud and wouldn’t be around long enough to get to know—she wiped her hands on her apron, then extended one to the younger of the two. Dark blond, he had deep blue eyes and a smile every bit as cheery as Birdie’s. As Randi gripped his hand, hers warmed with dreaded perspiration. She made her shake firm and brief, dropping his hand almost immediately.

“Mom, this is Drew. Drew, my mother Rand—”

“Jean?”

“—ee Ferguson,” Birdie stumbled to a stop.

Drew hadn’t interrupted. No, it was the man behind him. The boy’s father. The one Randi didn’t want to look at. The resonance of his voice, the rich British accent that made the plain name she’d used for one semester sound exotic, it was an illusion, an echo from the past, a hallucination induced from too little sleep.

Reluctantly, Randi let her gaze slide past Drew’s startled eyes and collide with those of the older man one step back, looking more stunned than startled. More amazed than surprised.

“Not Jean Dailey?” he asked, head tilted a fraction as his gaze bore into her.

There was only one thought in her mind as her heart thudded to a momentary stop, and her blood froze into crystals.
It can’t be
.