Dancing in the Dark (16 page)

Her features softened, her expression becoming unconsciously private and sensual.

His gaze met hers. “I want to touch you.”

The longing in her eyes was all the answer he needed. The physical pull between them was like a golden chain, connecting them ever tighter, drawing them to each other by an incontrovertible force.

“But we can’t,” he said.

“No,” she whispered. “We can’t.”

The chain snapped, broken for the moment.

He grimaced. “All my life my actions were controlled by how other people would react. My mother, my sisters, my ex-wife. The damn jobs. Now I finally free myself from all that and I’m
still
controlled by something other than me.”

Charity’s smile was sympathetic. “Your actions are controlled only by your integrity now, Jake. You’re an honorable man. You know it’s not right to be personally involved at this time, just as I know it.”

“How did we get mixed up in this?”

She grinned. “You convinced me work was the perfect place to meet men.”

He laughed. “Well, I wasn’t wrong, was I?”

“That’s debatable.”

“Nope, just timing. Obviously, we’re lousy at it, like you said.”

“By the way, thank you for getting Georgia Billings help with her son’s bills. She told me about it this afternoon.”

“I was happy to do it.” He didn’t tell how many private resources he’d had to contact to get it. He was glad Charity was pleased with him on this one thing at least.

He looked around the other tables. No one seemed interested in them, which was a relief. Since they weren’t under a microscope, he and Charity actually might be able to reach a settlement. Desperate to do exactly that, he turned to the business at hand. “Okay, so Wayans is going to be a bad guy. I think I can handle that and the board. I have no idea how, but I will. Your interview today was excellent, by the way. Some of the board who saw it had to admit you sounded very reasonable. They’re hopeful.”

“Well, so are my people. What will it take to get the health benefits back for everyone?”

“Right now?”

She nodded.

He eyed her steadily. “You’re not going to like it. A twenty-percent layoff in workers.”

“You’re right. I don’t like it. Can the company carry the benefits for one year and then reassess?”

He frowned. “You’re looking for us to pull out some solid business between now and then, right?”

She nodded.

“I don’t know. Let me look at the figures.”

“Okay.”

He sat back in the banquette. “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you and I can get back to where we left off. Maybe this is a test to see if we can survive the worst.”

“There’s another problem,” she said. “Has the board said they’ll fire us if we don’t go back to work?”

He muttered a barnyard curse. He should have known she’d get wind of that. He told her the literal truth. “There was no adoption of any motion to fire the striking workers.”

“But they talked about it,” she said perceptively.

“A couple of them made noises, led by our friend Mitchelson.” He scowled. “Obviously, they decided to hold their own press conference. They don’t speak for the entire board. I think,” he began carefully, “that we’ll see and hear a lot of spouting-off on each side that isn’t gospel. I think our job, yours and mine, is to cut through that, impart the facts to our people, and reach a settlement or a compromise based on those facts.”

“The thing is, is everyone else as reasonable as you?”

He chuckled. “I didn’t say the job was easy, love. I’ll give you a tidbit. Management at Wayans discovered today that the secretaries run this company. The place is a madhouse.”

That was an understatement, he thought. It was practically in a state of collapse. None of them had had any idea of the amount of work and paperwork the women handled with such efficiency.

Charity chuckled. “Maybe having to muddle through will teach all of you a lesson.”

“Just tell us how to keep the copier in office services from jamming.”

“No way.”

“I’ll trade you Dave for a settlement.” He made a face as he said it. The man wasn’t all his position made him up to be.

“Forget it. But since we’re imparting tidbits …” Charity’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Everybody’s feet hurt a lot more than they thought they would.”

He laughed.

“Also,” she said, “we did not call in the WNO.”

“Maybe we can get this settled with very little pain,” Jake said, grateful for the news.

He hoped so. For everyone’s sake.

Charity tossed and turned restlessly in her bed, pulled the sheet and light blanket over her, then minutes later kicked them off. Her body cried for sleep, but she couldn’t turn her mind and adrenaline off.

She sat up and glanced at her digital clock. The LED numbers read 2:14
A.M
. She groaned and covered her face with her hands. It was easy to put a name to her insomnia: Jake.

He had said they’d opened the floodgates. He wasn’t wrong. The deep ache in her body told her that. She had only to close her eyes and she could feel his hands on her again, feel the way he moved inside her, the explosion of emotions between them. She had kept up her defenses so long because she hadn’t wanted to “settle” for a man. Well, she hadn’t settled. And she was worse off than ever!

She wanted him so badly, she couldn’t stand it. How she left him at the restaurant earlier that night, she didn’t know. The whole thing had held a nightmarish quality as they had stood in the parking lot and said good-bye. She wanted to get into her car and drive to his house and pound on his door until he woke up and let her in. She wanted to know he ached for her as much as she did for him.

But there was another disturbing factor that she’d realized that night. He was still a man and he very much believed in the man’s world, a world that didn’t accommodate women very well—if at all. She didn’t expect him to be a feminist, and she had some doubts about the wisdom of what the strikers were doing. Still, it was obvious Jake was more sympathetic to the company’s plight than to the women’s. His attitude had roused a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach—and a lot of confusion about him and her.

How would he stand on other issues? On her? Would she find herself being told not to continue college because he’d take care of her? Would she be discouraged from other things she wanted to do
because they didn’t fit in with what he wanted to do? The questions provoked by the strike were insidious, creeping into their relationship. She couldn’t help seeing a chasm opening up between them, one that might never be bridged. Maybe they weren’t right for each other despite the lovemaking. Maybe they were too different. Maybe this was why Jake had seemed so dangerous from the first. Because he was the wrong man.

She threw off the covers completely and got out of bed, determined to cure her insomnia by reading. Something dull, she told herself, to put her to sleep. Maybe her apartment lease …

Somebody pounded on her door, as if trying to break it down. Charity screamed and spun around, right into the bedroom door, jamming her toes against the wood. She grasped them, rubbing them and hopping around on one foot.

“Dammit!” she cursed, hurrying to the front door. She peered through the peephole, then immediately swung the door open. Jake stood there, caught with his hand half raised to knock again.

“Jake!” she exclaimed. “What are you—”

He strode inside, shut the door, and pulled her into his arms, kissing her senseless. His mouth was a fire, his tongue plunged inside to taste her. Charity froze for an instant, then gave herself up to the kiss without reservation. The feel of his arms around her, the taste of him, the way he made her senses spin with excitement, was so right, he could never be wrong.

It went on for endless minutes, their hands clutching, testing that the other was real.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, spreading kisses across
her face and throat. “I shouldn’t be here. I know it. I couldn’t stay away. I love you, Charity.”

“Perfect timing,” she murmured back, throwing all her doubts away. “I was in my bed, wanting you there.”

He lifted her into his arms and carried her to her bedroom. Everything that was forbidden, every bit of integrity, was shredded in the onslaught of love.

Much later Charity raised herself up from his side and laid her head on his chest. She leisurely ran her bare foot up and down along his leg, marveling at the feel of hard bone and muscle and the tickle of hair along her nerve endings.

His arm tightened around her, his fingers caressing the base of her spine.

“Don’t fall asleep,” she said in a lazy voice.

“I won’t. I’m sorry—”

She pressed a finger to his lips, then leaned up and kissed him. “Don’t. I don’t regret this, and I don’t want you to, either.”

“It won’t happen again,” he promised.

“It can’t,” she agreed. Her heart told her differently, and she forced the tempting idea away.

“I just couldn’t sleep; I couldn’t stay away.” He chuckled. “Hell, it was as if I couldn’t do anything else.”

“I know. I couldn’t sleep.”

“It’s the primitive instinct,” he said. “Men and women with their ancient—”

She whacked his stomach. “I don’t want to hear a thing about men and women. It’s rotten timing, Jake. And perfect timing. Got it?”

“You really have a bossy streak, you know.”

“Thank you.”

Neither of them mentioned their positions as negotiators for opposing sides. She didn’t even want that or her other doubts to exist in this private world of theirs, and she suspected he felt the same.

“I should go,” he said, stroking her more firmly.

She sighed. “Yes.”

But he didn’t move. Instead, his hand strayed lower and he pulled her on top of him.

She met his kiss eagerly.

Reality sure could set in with a vengeance, Charity thought early the next morning as she walked the picket line. She’d gotten almost no sleep the night before and her feet protested every move. Her conscience wasn’t any better, either. In fact, it was worse. Added to her guilt was the contented lethargy in which the rest of her body was currently delighting.

She didn’t regret what had happened the previous night, but it couldn’t be repeated. They both understood that.

Still, it didn’t feel right, walking with her fellow employees. Mary smiled encouragingly at her. Several others grinned ruefully in shared agony. She forced herself to smile back, feeling like a sneak thief as she did. She prayed the settlement would come before the end of the day.

Halfway across the entrance drive a stone caught in her sneaker. She stopped, untied it, and took it off. A car pulled up, halting because it couldn’t get past her as she stood in the middle of the drive. Standing on tiptoe in her sock, she frowned and felt around inside the sneaker, trying to find the
small pebble. No luck. She ran her finger around the edge, taking care to feel every millimeter of the inside rim between side and inner sole. Nothing. Women walked by her, giggling. She became aware of the car’s engine purring ominously close and sending out a wave of metallic warmth. Still, she couldn’t find the elusive stone. Finally, after a good two minutes, her sneaker yielded its stony treasure.

“Ah-ha!” she exclaimed in triumph, holding up the pebble. She flicked it away, then slipped on her shoe. Well, she thought, she couldn’t very well walk with an untied shoe. She might trip. She bent down and tied it carefully. Her mother had taught her long ago that it was far more intelligent to stop and tie one’s shoes than to rush ahead and trip. Of course, in her mother’s place it had been buckles, tied shoes not having been in fashion in the seventeenth century. But the principle was still the same.

When she was satisfied her sneakers were permanently welded to her feet, she straightened and looked around to find Jake in his car in the middle of the drive, glaring murderously at her.

She smiled cheerfully at him. She just couldn’t resist.

As soon as she moved enough for him to be able to squeeze by, he roared past with a blast of exhaust.

“Now, what’s he mad about?” she muttered. “He didn’t have to be on the picket line at six-thirty.” In fact, at nearly ten o’clock, he was very late. She wondered what had kept him that morning, then smiled wryly. The stinker had overslept.

The women hooted with laughter at her, diverting her attention to them. She grinned. “I had a stone in my shoe.”

“No kidding,” Mary said.

The good mood lasted until the first police car showed up half an hour later. Several followed behind it. Charity raised her eyebrows as she watched them park on either side of the Wayans entrance. With a sinking feeling in her stomach she wondered what they wanted. The women had been peaceful, so what had brought the police?

The answer was a completely unexpected one.

“There’s an injunction against this strike,” the officer in charge announced. “All of you will have to move off the property and stop blocking the entrance to the building.”

“But we’re not blocking the entrance,” Charity said, moving to stand in front of the women.

“Lady, you’re to move off the property now, or I’ll haul you in,” the man snapped. He stared at her with her own reflection staring back in his mirror sunglasses. He loomed over her, like Godzilla in blue.

Fury shot through Charity at the man’s attitude. Unfortunately, this wasn’t a messenger she could shoot and get away with the crime.

“Ladies, we need to move,” she called.

“And you can walk only three at a time across the drive entrance,” the cop added. “And if any of you are standing around, I’ll haul you in. You must be moving all the time, otherwise you’ll be loitering and you’ll be arrested. You understand?”

She smiled sweetly. “Oh, yes.”

The cop pointed a finger in her face. “Lady, you so much as blink and I’ll nail you.”

She pulled her own sunglasses out and put them on. Then she smiled. The cop’s face went livid red, but he turned away.

When the cops were settled in their car to watch that the strikers followed the injunction, Charity looked over at the office building. She knew now why Jake had been so late for work.