In Serena's Web (13 page)

He had to make a few phone calls one morning to check on his company, and when those were completed, he went to the door to find out if Serena had finished changing. Her things remained in her own room, even though every night was spent in his.

He opened the door and poked his head out, surprised to see a maid coming out of Serena’s room. Serena, dressed in a long terry-cloth robe, stepped out into the hall with her, and they stood talking quietly for a moment.

Watching silently Brian realized that the maid had been crying; she still dabbed at her eyes with a crumpled handkerchief. Serena pressed something into the woman’s free hand with a firm gesture.

Curious, Brian left his room and headed for hers. Seeing him coming toward them the maid
broke off in the middle of an impassioned jumble of words to Serena, sent him an embarrassed look, and scurried down the hall.

Serena stood on tiptoe to kiss Brian’s chin when he reached her. “I’m sorry. Have you been waiting long?”

“No, I just finished the calls.” He followed her into her room, enjoying as always the movements of her slender, graceful body. “What was that all about?” he asked.

Serena was stretched across the neatly made bed, scrabbling through a huge purse on the floor; she always carried it with her while traveling, but left it in her room otherwise. “What? Oh, Peggy has a problem. Did I—? No, here it is.” She sat upright holding a small black address book in her hands, and began searching through it.

Tearing his gaze from the length of golden legs her movements had bared, Brian cleared his throat strongly and leaned against the low dresser. He wondered how long it would take for him to get over this strange inability to think straight in her presence. “The maid has a problem?”

“Uh-huh,” Serena responded absently. “Oh,
here it is.” She reached for the phone. “This’ll just take a minute, darling, then I’ll—Hello, Matt?”

Brian felt his throat tighten as he reflected that she never used an endearment unless her mind was on something else. Consciously Serena never stooped to even the mildest emotional blackmail. Never by word, look, or gesture did she indicate possessiveness toward him.

He forced the thoughts from his mind and listened to her end of the conversation.

“Am I what? Well, I’m sorry I woke you; I keep forgetting the time zones. Of course it’s important! Matt, stop yelling. You’ll wake Diane. Oh, is she? Tell her I’m sorry. All right. All
right
. Well, I have a case for you. The little boy’s name is Scotty Jenkins. Denver. I’ve given your name to his mother; she’ll alert the hospital so they’ll have the records ready for you. No, Matt, it’s just that the bills are breaking her. No, I have a feeling the attending doctor is a little too eager to schedule surgery. Probably—eventually—but it may not be necessary just yet. The foundation can handle it. Right. Well, you did such a good job on—”

Serena’s eyes focused on Brian and flickered slightly; she didn’t complete the sentence.

“Will you, Matt? Thank you. Yes. And I’m sorry for waking you, really. Okay. Bye.”

She put the receiver in its cradle and rose to her feet, smiling at Brian. “Are we still going riding? I know I packed boots—”

As she passed him to go to the closet, Brian caught her hands and stopped her. “What’s wrong with the little boy?” he asked quietly.

Standing between his knees, Serena linked her hands together behind his neck. “A heart defect, poor kid,” she answered readily. “Peggy’s nearly frantic about him. I noticed she was worried about something, so when I saw her in the hall I asked her to come in. She needed to talk. Anyway, I happen to know of a foundation that takes care of hospital and surgical bills for kids with medical problems. Matt’s a cardiac specialist; he’s on the board,” she finished.

Brian searched her face intently. “And who was it he did such a good job on?”

“Lots of people,” she said evasively.

He had never thought of himself as an overly
perceptive man, but Brian had discovered that faculty sharpened in the last weeks—and particularly in the last days. “Who, Serena?”

She stared at him for a moment, then sighed. “Me.”

“You?” He felt shaken, and must have looked it.

“It was a long time ago, Brian. I was a child. It’s not uncommon. I was born with a minor heart defect, which was corrected by surgery. And that’s all.” Her voice was matter-of-fact.

“You don’t have a scar,” he stated.

“Oddly enough, any scars I get fade away after a while. It’s a good thing, too, because otherwise I’d look like a road map. I was a tomboy—always falling out of trees and coming home bruised and scratched.”

The hands at her waist drew her suddenly closer, and Brian rested his forehead against hers. He felt cold. “There isn’t any danger now?”

“None at all,” she said cheerfully. “I have a perfectly normal heart.” She kissed him; only when they were alone together was she demonstrative. “Now, are we going riding?”

“Maybe we—”

Serena stopped him with another kiss. “That’s why I hadn’t told you,” she said softly. “Brian, I’m fine. Ask Josh. Or call Daddy. Look, didn’t I beat you at tennis yesterday?”

He smiled slowly. “Your backhand beat me.”

“Well, then.”

Brian hugged her hard. He still felt shaken, almost sick, as though someone had kicked him in the stomach. And his compulsion to hold her now made it nearly impossible to release her and smile as if he were reassured. “All right. We’ll go riding this afternoon. I’ll call the desk and arrange for the horses.”

“And I’ll get dressed.” She grinned at him and headed for the closet while he sat on the bed and made the call.

She went into the bathroom to dress, and it was, Brian realized, yet another subtle indication that Serena would not attempt to tie him to her. As familiar as he was with her body now, and even though she was never shy with him, Serena was also never casual.

If she undressed in front of him, it was because he started things—and she always responded
instantly to whatever he initiated. In bed with him, she abandoned herself, always warmly responsive and eager, and only there would she allow herself to be the first to touch, the first to kiss. If he touched her in public, she responded; the very rare touches of her own were made only when something had distracted her.

In effect, she claimed none of a lover’s rights, except when she lay in his arms.

Brian wanted to tell her, strongly, that those rights were hers. That it was her right to touch him on impulse, no matter where they were or who was watching.
“Treat me like your lover!”
he wanted to say.
“Share my room as well as my bed. Don’t leave me to dress, as if even that small part of our lives is separate. Let me brush your lovely hair for you, fasten your dress. Let me watch while your tilt your head in that curiously feminine way while you put on earrings. Let me share all the casual, unguarded gestures of lovers….”

He couldn’t tell her. He had denied any future for them; she had accepted that.
He
had no right to demand.

Brian heard Serena humming in the bathroom;
he knew she would be completely ready when she came out. Dressed, hair arranged in whatever style she’d chosen, light makeup and jewelry in place.

She was a woman who would notice the distress of a maid, care enough to find the source of that distress, and offer compassionate help. A woman sensitive enough to see the fine distinction between an affair with a future, and one with none. And to act accordingly.

No matter what it might cost her.

Brian knew now that Serena would never again allow him to see any pain he would cause her. She had seen his pain that first morning, and she possessed the special quality of wanting to protect others from hurt whenever she could.

She didn’t speak of the future, she imposed no emotional demands, and on the rare occasion that she spoke of the pleasure they found together, the word she used was a cheerful
chemistry
.

She had not spoken of love since that first morning.

When they were together, when he could look at her lovely, tranquil face or hold her in his arms, Brian forgot his own emotions. It was during the
moments he spent alone that he felt tense and unsure, that his mind was groping toward something it couldn’t see, couldn’t recognize.

“You’re such a patient man,” Serena told him readily. “Are you starving? I am.”

“What else is new?” Brian said, his voice dry as he rose to his feet.

Refusing to be offended by this reference to her remarkable appetite, she preceded him to the door. She was wearing jeans that could have doubled as her skin, and a filmy silk blouse the exact shade of her gray eyes. Her hair was worn in a single braid, the style emphasizing her delicate bone structure.

Brian wondered if breathing was truly necessary to life; he didn’t seem to do much of it around her.

He caught her hand as they walked toward the elevators, and held it firmly. It was only when the elevator opened to the lobby that he remembered a question he had wanted to ask her. “This foundation you mentioned—”

“Oh, damn! I’m glad you reminded me; I need to call the director. Why don’t you get us a table
while I use the phone?” She waited for his nod, then headed off toward the bank of telephones near the desk.

Brian made certain the private investigator was on duty in the lobby, then headed for the restaurant. He ran into Josh as the other man was leaving, and while they stood idly talking he asked Serena’s brother about the foundation.

“Serena’s?” Josh nodded. “They do a hell of a lot for sick kids. She conned me out of an endowment years ago, and Stuart too. Started it with her own money, of course, but—”

“You mean it’s
her
foundation?”

“Sorry, I thought you knew.” Josh looked at him rather curiously. “It’s one of hers. I’m a trustee, and so is Stuart. Serena set up the policies, and of course she made sure we could help every kid with a skinned knee.” He chuckled.

Brian cleared his throat carefully. “Look, I know Serena is a hell of a lot more intelligent than she lets on, but just
how much more
? I mean, foundations, policies—”

Josh looked at him seriously for a moment. There had been no constraint between the two
men since Brian and Serena had become lovers, probably because Josh was an unusual kind of brother. And also because he genuinely liked Brian.

He smiled faintly. “We both know she is a multilayered creature, our Serena.” He waited for Brian’s nod, then said dryly, “One of those layers just happens to be composed of a keen business mind that I would dearly love to have on any or all of my corporate boards. She graduated from Stanford, you know. Top honors. She minored in business.”

“Her major?”

Josh was clearly amused. “Electronics.”

Brian sighed. “Dammit.”

“I don’t suppose you ever asked her?”

“It never came up.” Brian swore aloud. “I just assumed she’d been traipsing all over Europe having a good time. Then I found out about her foster kids. Now you tell me—what
was
she doing over there?”

“Well, she set up two foundations. And I believe there was a hospital in Switzerland….”

“Hell.” Brian wondered rather desperately if
he’d ever get to the bottom of Serena’s enigmatic person.

Josh pulled out his cigarette case and looked meditatively at its polished surface. “She uses my lawyers to go over her drafts of by-laws, organizational charters, and so forth,” he said absently, “but they tell me it’s sheer busywork; Serena knows what she’s doing. And even though she couldn’t teach Stuart about electronics, there’s damn little he could teach her. She’d be a sterling asset for somebody in that business. Any business.”

“Don’t
you
start,” Brian snapped.

Surprised, Josh said, “Serena’s been extolling her virtues?”

“No.” Brian ran a hand through his hair. “The opposite, in fact. She’s so closemouthed about herself, she’d give a clam rough competition.”

Josh bit back a laugh. “You sound offended.”

“Well, she might have told me. At least about having a degree in electronics; she knows damn well that it’s my business. It’s something I just
might
have been interested in, after all. Why the hell didn’t she tell me?”

Replacing his case in an inner pocket without opening it, Josh offered quietly, “Maybe she doesn’t want to be accused of listing the ways in which you two are compatible. See you later, Brian.”

Brian went into the restaurant and waited for Serena. He pushed Josh’s last statement out of his mind, unwilling to think about it. But it hardly meant he didn’t want Serena to answer his question.

He said nothing about it until they were seated across from each other, their coffee poured and their meal ordered. Then he spoke casually. “So tell me about this foundation of yours.”

Serena opened her mouth, closed it, then stared at him with an absurdly guilty expression. “Josh passed me in the lobby. You talked to him, didn’t you?”

“I did.”

She toyed with her coffee cup. “Oh.”

Since she was clearly reluctant to say anything more, Brian aired his grievances. “Foundations. Charters and by-laws. Stanford—graduated with
top honors. An
electronics
major. Serena, did you deliberately play dumb with me?”

“You know I’m not dumb, Brian.”

“Well, it isn’t any of
your
doing that I know. I’ve had to piece things together from the beginning. I’ve heard of hiding your light under a bushel, but, really.”

Serena smiled. “It didn’t seem important, Brian. It still doesn’t.”

His mouth gaped in surprise as he realized that he’d come within a hair of breaking one of his own rules. If he claimed Serena’s business and electronics knowledge was important, then he would also be claiming two points of compatibility between them.

Ties.

For a moment, a split second, he felt a peculiar leap of his senses. An odd, tense, cliff-hanging cessation of everything. As if the world stopped for an instant. The feeling left him bewildered and disturbed.

Serena, whether deliberately or not, didn’t let him dwell on it. She began talking about the foundation, specifically about the doors being opened
to little Scotty Jenkins even as they talked. She was casual, genial, offering no further information on her own involvement.