An Indian Affair (11 page)

“Yeah, I have to drive up to Alabama for an extradition hearing. The state police just located the guy and it’s set for first thing Monday morning. I can’t get a flight in time so I have to take my car. The town is a long distance from the nearest airport and it’s actually faster to drive.”

“Drew, you can’t drive. You’ve had no sleep for two nights running,” she said, distracted by visions of him gliding onto off ramps and into telephone poles.

“Cindy, I have to get there. Unless this creep is extradited to Georgia he’ll get away with defrauding a bunch of old people in his nursing homes of all their retirement funds. He fled jurisdiction when the feds caught on to him, and I want to make sure he is punished for it.”

Cindy took a breath. “Drew, is your life always like this?” she asked him.

“Pretty much,” he answered. “I’m not exactly what you’d call reliable.” He paused. “But I guess you’ve gathered that.”

“When will you be back?”

“I don’t know. It could be over fast, with just the hearing, or it could take several days.”

She didn’t know how to handle it. How could she press him for information he didn’t have?

“Cindy,” he said, “you’ll hear from me. I don’t know when, but you will.”

“Okay, Drew.” What else could she say?

“Cindy?”

“Hmm?”

“It’s nice that you care what happens to me. I like that.” A smile came into his voice. “Look for me...”

“Yes, I know. When the sun goes down.”

“That’s my girl.”

“Drew, be careful. Take care of yourself.”

“I will. Goodbye, princess.”

“Goodbye.”

Cindy hung up, falling back on the pillows. She glanced at the lamp which lay in a heap, its shade askew, on the rug. Automatically, she got out of bed and righted it, standing it back on the table.

Could she take this? Could she take Fox’s lifestyle, the pattern of leaving at a moment’s notice with no set time of return? He was going off into danger every time he left, and no amount of rationalizing could dismiss that fact.

Cindy shook her head and climbed back into bed. It appeared that she was going to find out if she could live with his precarious adventures.

Because whether she liked it or not, she was falling in love with Andrew Fox.

Chapter 6

Five days later Cindy was seated on the floor of Paula’s living room with a stack of index cards. She was methodically sorting the cards and then clipping them to the typed pages they outlined. A casual observer witnessing her apparent concentration would not have guessed her inner turmoil.

Paula entered the room and displayed her hand like a model on television selling dishwashing lotion. “How do you like it?” she asked. “Mango frappe.”
 

Cindy glanced at the iridescent orange nail polish and nodded. “It’s very... shiny.”

“Not to mention seductive, long wearing, and non chip,” Paula added dryly, quoting from the sales copy.

She watched Cindy bite the cap of her pen, holding it between her teeth and nibbling at it like a ferret.

“Is that what you do instead of smoking?” she asked.

Cindy looked at her uncomprehendingly. “What?”

“Never mind. I take it you haven’t heard from him.”

Cindy shook her head.

“You have nothing to add?” Paula probed.

Cindy shrugged. “What is there to say? I have no claim on him; he doesn’t have to report to me daily as if I were his mother. He said I would hear from him, and I will. Eventually.”

“How very mature,” Paula said. “And how understanding. Everyone knows there are no phones in Georgia. Or post offices or Western Union operators.”

Cindy threw her a dirty look.

“I know, I know,” Paula said, holding up her hand. “But if you ask me, he’s using this trip to put emotional distance between you.”

“Nobody asked you,” Cindy pointed out.

“Has that ever stopped me from offering an opinion before?” Paula asked rhetorically.

Cindy sighed and uncoiled her legs, stretching them. “Paula, look at it logically. As of this moment, I have been out with him twice, only once on an actual date. Why should he feel compelled to keep me posted on his every move? I believe that he’ll call me when he gets back, and that’s sufficient.”

Paula nodded patiently. “All that sounds wonderful, but I happen to know that you haven’t eaten a square meal since he left. You may be convincing yourself with your splendid reasoning but I’m not buying it.”

“Then don’t,” Cindy said shortly, getting up. “Go back into your bedroom and frappe your toenails.”

“Oh, oh,” Paula said. “Getting a little miffed, are we?”

Cindy put her hands on her hips and stared her down. “I’m getting a little miffed, yes. Your attitude toward Fox changes with the light. One minute you’re wishing me luck and urging me onward, and the next you’re making wisecracks about his disappearing act. What’s going on, Paula? Are you trying to drive me crazy?”

Paula considered that. “Okay, you’re right. I am vacillating about this whole thing. Sometimes when I see how happy you are with him, I want it to work out and I encourage you. Then, at other times, I remember what he used to be like…” She left the sentence unfinished for Cindy to draw her own conclusions.

“People can change,” Cindy said. “They grow up and different things become important to them.”

“Possibly,” Paula said, her tone unconvinced.

“Definitely,” Cindy confirmed. “Now go back to your manicure and let me get this work done.” She sat back down and started shuffling papers.

“I guess I know when I’m not wanted.” Paula sniffed and marched out of the room.

Cindy looked up after she’d gone, and her expression was thoughtful.

* * * *

The next afternoon Cindy was sitting at a table in the back of the reference room when a long shadow fell across the page she was reading. She glanced up and Fox was towering over her, his expression wary, as if he were unsure of the reception he was going to get.

“Hi,” he said. “I’m back.”

Cindy smiled. “Hello, Drew. I’m glad to see you.”

“Yeah?” he said, tilting his head to one side and looking at her askance.

“Of course. How did the trip go?”

He pulled out a chair and turned it around, seat forward. Lifting one leg over the back of it, he dropped into it.

“Fine,” he replied, folding his arms across the top of the ladderback. “We put that guy away where he’ll never cheat anybody again.”

“That’s good,” she said, closing her book carefully. She couldn’t help comparing this return with his previous one, when he’d opened his arms and she had run into them. But that was before the lake, before they both realized how much was at stake.

He glanced around at the floor-to-ceiling stacks nervously, as if viewing a lineup of his enemies. “Looks like you’ve got a few books here,” he said, raising his eyebrows. Cindy thought he looked out of place in this arena of higher learning—his tough, lean exterior bespeaking knowledge of a very different kind.

“A few,” she replied, making a note in the margin of her pad and putting her pen away. “I like to work here, where I have all the information I need at my fingertips.”

“How’s the paper coming?” he asked.

“Fine. Right on schedule.”

He fell silent and studied her face, while she looked back at him. He was wearing a gray T-shirt with the sleeves cut off, exposing his muscular arms. His jeans and moccasins might have passed for student wear, but despite his clothing he looked about as much like a student as she looked like a fan dancer. He wore his aura of danger like an ornament, and like an ornament, it drew attention. Out of the corner of her eye Cindy saw a couple of girls at the next table staring at him and conversing in hushed whispers. She could guess the subject of their conversation without trying very hard.

“I wasn’t going to come here,” he said suddenly.

“What do you mean?”

“When I called the apartment Paula told me you were here, but I was going to wait until you got home.” He shifted restlessly in his chair. “These places make me jumpy.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Schools, churches, libraries. I was always getting thrown out of them.”

The reference librarian chose that moment to advance on them and glare at Fox.

“You’ll have to keep your voices down or go outside,” she said sternly. “People are trying to work here.”

“See what I mean?” Fox asked Cindy as the woman walked away. “They see me and freak. You’d think I was going to set fire to the joint.” He stood, shoving his chair back into place with a loud scraping noise and staring defiantly at the librarian when she looked up.

“Let’s get out of here,” he concluded, lifting her back pack and shouldering it.

Cindy gathered the rest of her things and followed him down the narrow aisle, then out through the double doors to the hall. Once out of the room Fox expelled a breath, as if he’d been under some tension that had just been released.

“The last time I was in a library was ten years ago,” he said, glancing at her. “I was looking up some deeds for my uncle.” He smiled and tugged on a strand of her hair. “What were you doing ten years ago?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Studying geometry, probably. Or algebra. Math was never my strong point. What were you doing besides looking up deeds?”

He thought about it for a second. “Raising hell, I guess. Making a fool of myself. That was my usual occupation in those days.” He pushed open the outer door and they stepped into a flood of sunshine. “Have you got Paula’s car?”

Cindy nodded. “It’s in the row next to the concrete abutment,” she said, pointing.

“I have to go back to my place and check the mail. I’m expecting some legal papers that can’t wait.” He eyed her speculatively. “Do you want to come along?”

“To your house?”

“Yes.”

Cindy hesitated.

“You’ll be safe with me,” he said quietly.

“I know that,” she replied, making her decision. “Should I leave Paula’s car here?”

Fox shook his head. “Better follow me. The car will be okay in the lot at my building.”

Cindy did as he said, trailing him out of the university lot and following his sports car along the boulevard lined with palm trees that ran parallel to the school. He drove for about two miles and then pulled into a condo complex with its buildings scattered along the edge of the water. He parked behind a sparkling white highrise, and Cindy pulled into the space next to his. When he got out of his car to meet her he said, “I’m on the fourth floor.”

Cindy walked at his side, observing the scenery, which was gorgeous. Rich plantings abounded, with many palms and flowering shrubs contributing a riot of color.

“Did you think I would call you while I was gone?” Fox asked suddenly, and Cindy looked at him. He was watching her with that alert expression she had already come to know. It meant that the casual question carried more import than the listener could guess from his offhand tone. Was this a test?

“I know you were busy,” she said carefully. He looked away and dropped the subject. Cindy couldn’t tell anything from his demeanor. She was getting mixed signals from him; on the one hand, he seemed to want her attention very much, but on the other, he acted as if any sign of possessiveness would cause him to bolt. He was a complex man and she knew that he would always defy easy categorizations.

Fox pushed open the outer door for her, and they entered the lobby. It was lush, with pearl gray carpeting interspersed with walkways of rich terrazzo tile. Vivid contemporary paintings were mounted on a background of beige grass cloth walls, and hanging baskets of ferns were everywhere.

“Drew, this place is something else,” Cindy said, staring unabashedly.

He flashed her a delighted grin. “Yeah, I know. Everybody who lives here is blue chip, except for me. You should have seen the looks on the faces of the other happy home owners when I moved in with my three duffel bags of T-shirts and jeans.”

Cindy got a sample of what he meant as a middle aged couple passed by on their way out. They were extremely well dressed, and the woman wore so much gold jewelry that it was amazing she was able to move at all. They both nodded stiffly at Fox, their expressions glacial.

“My next door neighbors,” Fox said out of the corner of his mouth to Cindy. He waited until they were out of earshot and added, chuckling, “They haven’t decided whether I’m a hit man or a white slaver.”

Smiling, unable to resist his relishing their confusion, Cindy said, “Why don’t you just tell them what you do?”

“And ruin all the fun? No way,” Fox replied, pressing the button for the elevator. “Besides, they would hardly regard my real line of work as any better than their imaginings. The fact that they inherited all their money and don’t work at all doesn’t prevent them from looking down on those who do.”

“Are you going to tell me how you wound up in this place?” Cindy asked archly, as the elevator arrived and they got into it.