Blackfoot Affair (9 page)

“And she’s so pretty,” he murmured, as if to himself.

“That has nothing to do with it. The most promiscuous girl in my high school class was also the least attractive. What kind of thinking is that? How old are you, twelve?”

The sarcasm was lost on Jack, who was still sitting in the same position, as if stunned.

“Thinking about changing your tactics?” Tracy asked dryly.

He exhaled heavily. “I guess I’d better do just that.”

“Wise choice,” Tracy said, shoving back her chair. Jack rose in response. “Now don’t let on that I told you this or I warn you, I will be very close to death,” Tracy added.

“Not a word.”

Tracy made a fist. “Good luck.”

Jack smiled charmingly, and Tracy wondered briefly why she was taking all this trouble to hand Jack to Marisa when she might have been going after him herself. Then she remembered. Friendship. That’s what it was.

Tracy walked out of the dining room, pausing to pick up her check, as Jack sank back into his chair, his expression thoughtful.

* * *

When Marisa came downstairs the next morning on her way to Judge Lasky’s chambers she found Jack sitting in the lobby sipping a cup of coffee. She tried to sail past him but he jumped up and blocked her path.

“Please let me go. I’m late,” she said frostily.

“Five minutes,” Jack said.

Marisa kept moving.

“Two minutes.”

She wavered.

“One minute.”

“Oh, all right.” As she sat in the chair across from the one he had occupied she noticed the stack of folded newspapers and the paper napkin littered with crumbs.

“How long have you been sitting here?” she asked.

“A while.”

Marisa looked at him.

“I thought if I came up to your room you would throw a fit, so I chose neutral ground.”

She crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap. “I’m waiting,” she said.

Jack took a deep breath as Marisa concentrated on not staring at the breadth of his shoulders in the thin crewneck sweater or the muscular thighs revealed by his tight jeans. She wound up looking stupidly at the floor.

“Hey,” he said gently. “I’m up here.”

She raised her eyes to his face.

“That’s better.” He licked his lips, which made her look away again.

“Court doesn’t resume until next week,” he said, “and I wondered if in the meantime you would let me take you to dinner.”

Marisa shook her head in wonderment.

“Don’t look like that, I promise to behave,” he said.

“You know it’s a bad idea.”
 

“Why?”

“Well, how have we been getting along so far?” she asked rhetorically.

“We got along great when I slept overnight in your room,” he said softly.

“That was simply an accident. I won’t put myself in that situation again.”

“Look, I’m talking about dinner, that’s all. You have my word that I will not barge into any rest rooms and will refrain in general from making a nuisance of myself.”

She smiled thinly.

“That’s better. What do you say?”

Marisa hesitated. She had vowed never to fall for his blandishments again, but how could she resist him as he sat there wearing the half smile that melted her so effectively? He was winning, and he knew it.

“All right,” she said.

He stood triumphantly. “Eight o’clock tomorrow night. A friend of mine has a boat I can borrow, we can take a sunset cruise up the inland waterway to a restaurant I know on the water. Can you swim?”

“Yes. Will I have to?”

He grinned. “Let’s hope not, but it’s best to make sure first.”

“Is it a fancy place?”

He shrugged.

Marisa gazed at him in exasperation. She had never known a man who could answer that question. “Is a jacket required for men?”

He nodded.

“Okay, that tells me what I need to know,”

“I’ll meet you here in the lobby at eight. All right?”

“Fine.”

He smiled at her one last time and then strode purposefully across the hotel’s Oriental carpet, a man who had achieved his goal.

* * *

“If a jacket is required for men it’s a pretty fancy place,” Tracy said, shoving hangers to the right and left along the rack. “Get something with a little zip.” She selected an azure blue cocktail dress with rhinestone straps and held it up for Marisa to see.

“That’s entirely too much zip for me,” Marisa said.

They were in the hotel boutique looking for an outfit for Marisa’s date with Jack. She had brought along only professional clothes and had nothing to wear. Or at least that’s what Tracy was insisting.

“I could always wear my gray silk suit,” Marisa suggested. “With a fancier blouse it would be all right.”

“You don’t want to look ‘all right,’ you want to look smashing. Besides, gray is for nuns. How about this?” She held up a coral chemise with a side slit and a deep v neck.

“No, thanks.” Marisa pulled out a navy featherweight wool with a white satin bib and satin cuffs. “Look, this has satin on it, is that fancy enough for you?”

“Are you giving the eighth grade commencement speech?” Tracy asked, surveying the garment with distaste.

“I’m trying it on,” Marisa said stubbornly.

“Fine. Take this too.” Tracy handed her a pale blue silk dress with a fitted waist and a tulip hem. The only decoration was a dusting of seed pearls on the shoulders. It was simple but elegant.

“That’s pretty,” Marisa conceded.

“Thank God,” Tracy said fervently.

Marisa disappeared into the dressing room. When she emerged in the navy dress Tracy groaned.

“I like it,” Marisa said.

“You would.”

“It’s very practical. I could wear it to court.”
 

“Exactly my point. What you do
not
want for this occasion is a dress you could wear to court.”
 

“It’s on sale.”

“Honey, you look like Hester Prynne in that dress. All you need is the red brooch. Put it back.”

Marisa returned to the dressing room and came out again in the blue silk.
 

“Now you’re talking,” Tracy said approvingly.
 

Marisa turned and looked at herself in the three way mirror. The material clung to her in all the right places, the color lit her eyes and flattered her complexion, and the skirt described a graceful arc above her knees.
 

“Pilgrim, your search has ended,” Tracy said.
 

“It’s too short,” Marisa said feebly.
 

“Buy it,” Tracy said firmly.
 

Marisa glanced at the price tag and gasped.

Tracy opened her purse, took out her wallet, and extracted a credit card.

“If you don’t buy it, I will,” she said.
 

“Don’t bully me, I’ll make up my own mind,” Marisa said, annoyed. She marched into the dressing room and came out a few minutes later attired in her own clothes. She brought the two dresses over to the clerk and said, “I’ll take the silk.”
 

Tracy chuckled.

“I needed something dressier anyway,” Marisa said defensively.
 

“Of course. Who doesn’t?”
 

“I’m not sure which shoes will go with it.”
 

“We’ll find something.”
 

“I don’t have the right jewelry.”
 

“My pearl earrings will be perfect,” Tracy said. She giggled and rolled her eyes. “He is going to die when he sees you in that. I’d love to be there.”

Marisa said nothing, wishing that she were as confident as Tracy that the outfit would be a success.

* * *

Marisa’s doubts were erased when she saw Jack’s expression as he met her in the lobby. She had resisted the temptation to put her hair up and instead let it fall loosely over her shoulders, and she wore her highest heels. Jack’s eyes passed over her from head to foot and then back up to her face.

“You look incredibly lovely,” he said softly.

He was wearing a navy jacket with a white shirt, tan slacks and a rep tie. The combination with his vivid features was memorable. Cochise at Choate. Marisa had to restrain herself from running into his arms.

“Shall we dance?” he said, extending his hand.

She took it and they walked out into the balmy night.

Chapter 4

“The boat is docked right across the street,” Jack said, indicating the public pier, which was within view of the hotel.

“Should I have brought another pair of shoes?” Marisa asked, glancing down at her highly unsuitable pumps.

“No, it’s high tide. You can just step into the boat. When the tide is out you have to climb down a ladder.”

“Quite a trick in this outfit,” Marisa said.
 

“That’s why I suggested this time of day,” Jack said.

“You mean you had already checked the tide charts?” Marisa asked, as they walked down the wooden dock.

“Yes.” He took her hand and helped her step over a coiled rope someone had left in their path.
 

“You were confident.”

He stopped and looked at her, his form backlit by the blazing sunset. “Hopeful,” he corrected.

Marisa let it go at that. She stood looking across the water, her hair lifted by the light evening breeze, the sound of gulls and other seabirds filling her ears. She inhaled deeply of the salt air.

“What is it?” Jack asked.

“Everything is so beautiful,” she said softly.

“Yes, everything is,” he agreed, gazing at her.

“I love the sea,” she said.

“Maine natives usually feel that way.”

She smiled and nodded.

“Did you have boats while you were growing up?” Jack asked.

“Sailboats. My grandfather thought powerboats were an abomination.”

Jack jumped down into the boat and then held out his hand to Marisa. “He would never have approved of this one.”

Marisa stepped into the boat and watched as Jack undid the spring line and then flipped on the blower switch. He lifted the cover on the engine to check it for leaks and then switched on the motor. The boat rumbled into life.

“Are you sure you know how to operate this thing?” Marisa asked nervously, feeling the vibrations beneath her feet.

“Do you doubt it?”

“Oklahoma has never been famous for its coastline,” she pointed out uneasily.

Jack grinned. “I have a local friend who has taken me out in this several times,” he said.

“How many times is several?”

“Will you relax? For a Maine lady you’re very twitchy.” He undid the bowlines and fixed them to the posts in the slip and then freed the stern lines and tossed them onto the dock.

“Here we go,” he said, stepping behind the wheel and guiding the boat out of the slip.

“What kind of boat is this?” Marisa asked, watching as they passed the fuel dock and headed out into the river.

“Twenty-foot Sea Ray Bowrider, dual two-fifty Mercruiser engine,” he replied.

“That was a big help.”

He chuckled. “You asked.”

Once on the open water, the breeze picked up and Marisa became fascinated with the river traffic flowing around them. Jack cruised slowly until they had passed the No Wake area and then gunned the motor, accelerating until Marisa’s hair was flying behind her like a flag. He looked over at her and she grinned delightedly.

“Like it?” he called.

“Love it,” she replied.

There was little conversation for most of the trip since it was difficult to be heard over the roar of the motor and the wind. After about ten minutes Jack slowed the boat and turned into a narrow passage hemmed in on either side by marsh grass and weeds.

“What’s this?” Marisa asked.

“The inland waterway. It was dredged by the Army Corps of Engineers, but even at high tide there are some shallow areas. It can be tricky in here.”

“Tricky?” Marisa said warily.

“Relax, counselor. Open up that compartment and hand me the chart inside, will you? It looks like a map with lots of numbers on it.”

“I know what a chart looks like,” she said stoutly.

“Forgive me.” He extended his left hand and Marisa gave him the chart. He unfolded it, frowning slightly, and then stabbed at it with his finger.

“See here? Four feet deep. This boat draws three feet, so even if the chart is just a little bit off, or if the bed has shifted, we could get into trouble.”

“Trouble?” Marisa said weakly.