Mad About The Man (22 page)

Insisting on attending the meeting alone had been a master stroke. He would enjoy telling Bart and Rita how right he
'
d been to think people would see him as more accessible without an entourage. Too bad he
'
d had no choice but to go in the tux. Bart had called on the car phone to say Napoleon Paradise was canceling until further notice, but by then Jacques was already driving into Goldstrike and it had been too late to go back and change.

Slipping a finger beneath his starched collar, he twisted his neck uncomfortably. Black tie was fine in its place but not in Goldstrike.

On the edge of town he drew to the side of the road, trying to make up his mind which way to go. Straight ahead and home, or to the right and Gaby
'
s house.

When he
'
d left the hall, Char Brown had been the
one to collect Mae. Gaby was nowhere to be seen, and he hadn
'
t liked to ask Char where she was in front of the child.

Gaby hadn
'
t said more than two or three short sentences to him all week.

But maybe she
'
d be looser now he
'
d given the local people the hearing she
'
d so badly wanted.

The minute he
'
d made eye contact with her, she
'
d walked out.

Damn.
He gunned the engine and pointed the Jeep
'
s nose straight ahead. Let her be the one to make the next move. He
'
d never had to run after a woman and he didn
'
t intend to start now.

The evening was gray. A fine rain misted the windshield. Jacques settled his elbow on the window ledge and drove the road instinctively. Why hadn
'
t he gotten involved in the town before?

No reason to, he guessed. That and the fact that he used to feel completely involved with Ledan
'
s. But no man with imagination could be expected never to crave new ventures, ventures conceived and executed by himself.

Ahead, something moved.

Jacques leaned forward and peered. The road rose and fell gently at this p
oint and the failing light flat
tened everything.

A figure knelt on the shoulder beside a pile of something he couldn
'
t make out.

As he drew closer, Jacques slowed down. Then the person stood up.

"
Gaby?
"
It was Gaby. She waved. The pile consisted of her bicycle, resting on its side with one wheel unattached.

Jacques pulled over and got out. Immediately the
rain, heavier now, buffeted him.
"
What are you
do
ing,
woman?
"
He strode to stand over the cycle.

"
Trying to fix this.
"
Gaby sounded doleful as she pointed to the dismembered machine.

"
Out here?
"
He looked in all directions.
"
Why are you riding out here?
"

"
I like to,
"
she said, without inflection.

A thought struck him. She
'
d ridden out here
hoping
to see him. Why else?
"
It is pretty scenery, isn
'
t it?
"
His heart warmed. He
'
d wanted her to make a move. This was it. But he mustn
'
t spook her by letting her know he
'
d guessed.

"
I don
'
t suppose you know anything about bicycles.
"
The resigned way she spoke suggested she doubted he
'
d ever done anything practical in his life.

"
Let me take a look.
"
This wasn
'
t the time to tell her he came from very sensible stock who believed in self-sufficiency.

Crouching, he grasped the bike
'
s front fork and pulled the loose wheel into place.
"
The release couldn
'
t have been secure. This won
'
t take a minute.
"
Then he
'
d pack her—and the bike—into the Jeep and take them home. To his home.

"
Something rolled away,
"
Gaby said.
"
Over there. Behind you.
"

Jacques swiveled in the direction she pointed. Gaby, stumbling int
o him, was a blur he saw the mo
ment before she knocked him to his back on dirt that was rapidly turning muddy.

"
I
'
m sorry,
"
Gaby wailed.
"
Oh, dear.
"

Somehow they became jumbled together on the ground. With legs flailing, she clutched his shirt with both hands as if trying to save herself from impact.
"
We
'
ve already fallen,
"
Jacques said, as evenly as
he could. All he could do was hold on while she squirmed all over him.
"
Gaby, it
'
s over. We can get up again now.
"

"
Oh, dear. Oh, dear!
"

"
Gaby, you
'
re strangling me.
"

"
Oh—
"
Her eyes widened and she grew still.
"
Oh. I
'
m sorry.
"

"
It
'
s okay. Accidents happen.
"

The white dress she wore was wet—and getting wetter.
"
I don
'
t know what happened. I
'
m
so
sorry.
"
With her body stretched on top of him, her eyes were very close—and very green.
"
You must think I
'
m a total klutz.
"

Jacques tried for a patient smile.
"
Not a bit of it, sweetheart. But it might be nice to get up.
"

"
Get up? Oh, of course.
"
Still holding the lapels
of his jacket, she crawled off and knelt beside him.
"
Let me help you.
"

"
We
'
ll throw the bike in the Jeep and get out of
}
this rain,
"
he told her.
"
We
'
re both getting soaked.
"

"
Look at your shirt, Jacques. It
'
s a mess.
"

He did look, and wince. Thank God he wasn
'
t trying to make the meeting with Napoleon.

Gaby smoothe
d the tux—with muddy hands—and
tutted.

There were tim
es when the behavior of women
completely confounded him. He got up and pulled Gaby to her feet.
"
In the Jeep. I
'
ll deal with the
bike.
"

"
It
'
s closer to my house than yours.
"

Jacques opened the door.
"
I don
'
t think so.
"

"
I
do.
"
Gaby climbed into the Jeep.
"
In fact,
I
know it is. And I know you
'
re in a hurry to get to
…
to get somewhere important.
"

He tried to close the door but she held it open.
"
Gaby, relax. Don
'
t give this another thought. We
'
ll go to my place and get warm.
"
He looked at his watch, calculating whether or not his cook would have left and decided she undoubtedly had.

"
What time is it?
"

"
Eight-fifteen,
"
he told her.

"
That late? You must be beside yourself with me. Please, Jacques. Forget the bike. I
'
ll find a way to pick it up later.
"

He leaned closer to examine her face, particularly her forehead. There was no sign of a bump or cut.
"
You
'
re shaken up.
"
Gently removing her hand from the window rim, he shut her in.
"
Close your eyes and rest.
"
From the way she was acting, a complete head check might be a good idea.

Quickly he manhandled the bike behind his seat and hopped in beside Gaby.

"
Your clothes are a mess,
"
she said.

"
They sure are.
"
Thanks to her efforts.
"
So are yours. We
'
ll get to La Place. You can take a nice, long, hot bath while I do what I have to.
"
The call to his parents would still need to be made, and he might as well get it out of the way early.

"
My house really is closer.
"
Gaby clamped a hand on the steering wheel.
"
It is.
"

"
I think mine
'
s closer.
"
And there was no danger of being interrupted.

"
You
'
re wrong. Mine is. I
'
ve measured.
"

He spread his fingers on his thighs.
"
Measured?
"

"
I mean
…
Not exactly
measured.
But I
'
ve spent so much time out here I just
know.
"

"
I see.
"

"
I knew you would.
"

"
You really don
'
t want to come to my house, do you?
"

"
No—I mean,
yes,
yes, of course I do. It
'
s just that with you being in such a hurry and needing to arrive where you
'
re going in a tux, I
'
m sure I can fix you up quickly at my house and—
"
she paused for breath
"
—and then you can be on your way and not make anyone upset or miss anything you
'
ve got to do.
"

The poor little thing felt guilty! Jacques smiled and said soothingly,
"
All right. Your house it
'
ll be.
"
He was going to have to work harder on helping her build self-esteem. No doubt that creep Michael Copeland was the kind of man who berated women for the smallest mistake.

After backing up, Jacques swung the Jeep around and headed back the way he
'
d come. At the junction he turned left and floored the accelerator. Gaby was definitely soaked and the anxiety on her face troubled him. He didn
'
t know all the pressures she was under. A woman at peace with herself and the world didn
'
t ride around the wide open spaces in bad weather— on a bicycle—even in hopes of seeing a man who interested her.

"
Will Char and Mae be there?
"

"
No!
"

He frowned.
"
That bothers you?
"

"
No. I just want you to believe we won
'
t be interrupted. Mae
'
s spending the night with Char. She often does on the weekends.
"