Starlight (10 page)

Once fortified with a cup of strong coffee and two aspirin, Karen showered and dressed. She lifted her eyebrows expressively when she located her second shoe in the bathroom sink.

Fifteen minutes before she was due to leave for work, Rand phoned.

“How are you feeling?” His tone was laced with concern.

“Don’t ask.” She tested her voice for the first time and found her tongue thick and her words husky. “I think I’ll live if my head quits pounding.” Memories of the night remained hazy; she could recall Rand saying something about coffee and a beautiful, sensuous kiss in the back of the taxi, but beyond that, the evening was veiled in her mind.

“I’m almost afraid to ask, but did I do anything out of the ordinary last night?”

She could hear his soft chuckle. “My dear, I’ve got enough information to blackmail you for life.”

Her breath was forced from her lungs; things were worse than she imagined. “I was afraid of that.”

“Just remind me never to argue with you again. I didn’t know what lengths you were willing to go to to prove a point. From now on, if you insist most people don’t really listen, I won’t question the fact.”

Karen laughed, wondering where she got the courage to pull anything so crazy. “I think everyone in the whole wedding party probably heard me but was too shocked to respond.”

Rand did little to relieve her anxiety. “I think you’ve made your mark among my friends.”

Karen’s face remained tight and strained when the smile died. “I believe,” she began awkwardly, “that I owe you an apology. I’m so sorry, Rand. I don’t know what got into me.”

“I’d say it was several glasses of excellent champagne,” he interrupted smoothly.

Karen closed her eyes for a moment. “I feel terrible about the whole thing.”

“Honey”—Rand’s chuckle was warm and sincere—“I can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed a wedding reception more.”

Thursday afternoon, the sky was thick with threatening gray clouds that promised rain. Karen rushed out one door, down half a block to the restaurant, and in another, where Judy was waiting.

Her sister waved as soon as Karen entered. “Hi.” Judy smiled in greeting as Karen sat opposite her in the small booth. “I’ve got our order in; it should be here any minute.”

Karen sighed appreciatively. “Thanks, Jude. It works out great when you can get here early and order for me. It’s been a madhouse this morning. I didn’t even think I’d get here at all for a while.”

“It’s a darn good thing you did.” Judy laughed, her eyes sparkling. “You should have seen the look the waitress gave me when I ordered
two
chef salads.”

Karen laughed, a natural release from the tension of a hectic morning. “What have you heard from Mike?” she asked just as the waitress brought their salads.

“Not much. He’s miserable, counting the days till he can come home, but he loves his job and the challenge. Sometimes I wish he was like a normal husband with a nine-to-five job, but he isn’t. It’s something I learned to accept long ago.”

Judy and Mike had been right for each other from the time they started dating in high school. Karen was almost envious that her sister had been so fortunate to have found her husband as a teenager. It was a fact Matthew had often used to convince Karen she was being overly choosy. But since Karen had been seeing Rand regularly, Matthew had all but ceased his demands.

“You’re seeing quite a bit of Rand, aren’t you?” Judy questioned unexpectedly. Her voice held a worried note, and she watched Karen closely.

“Not as much as I’d like.” Karen was surprised by her sister’s attitude. “Does it bother you that Rand is blind?”

Judy shook her head, quickly denying the implications. “Of course not.”

“Then why the censure?”

“Karen”—Judy hesitated, looking uncertain and more than a little uncomfortable—“I know you like Rand, but I don’t want to see you hurt. I think you should tread carefully with this relationship.”

Karen studied her sister thoughtfully.
Liking Rand
. That was the understatement of the year. Judy and Karen had always been close, even as children. Almost five years separated them—a big difference when Judy was a sensitive teenager and Karen was a
pesky younger sister. Even then, they had shared a special relationship. Yet, in all her years, Karen couldn’t remember her sister acting in quite this manner.

“Things between Rand and me are going even better than I’d hoped,” Karen told her sister, but Judy avoided eye contact, paying inordinate attention to her salad. “Rand’s just beginning to be comfortable with me; the defensiveness over his blindness is almost gone. More important, I sense he is accepting me into his life. It’s more than I’d hoped to accomplish in such a short time. Although”—she smiled before continuing, as if she’d overcome an important hurdle in their relationship—“tonight is the first time we’ll be alone together. His reader is sick, so I’m going to the school after work and read his students’ papers to him. He’s promised me dinner. More than a fair trade, I think.”

Judy didn’t mince words. “Do you love him?”

Karen didn’t even hesitate. “More than I thought it was possible to love any man.”

“Does he know it?” Judy still hadn’t touched her salad.

Karen sighed heavily. “I’m sure he does.” A hundred times, Karen had longed to speak freely of her feelings, but this was a sensitive area, and she knew she must be patient. Not that she doubted his feelings.

“If you love him, why don’t you tell him?” An odd expression crossed Judy’s face.

“I can’t, Jude. Rand doesn’t want to hear it. I know that’s difficult for you to understand, but for now that’s the way things have got to be.”

Judy shifted uneasily, again giving the impression something was weighing heavily on her mind. “Are you sure of his feelings?”

Karen’s soft mouth curved into a smile. “All right, sis, what is it?”

Judy looked all the more uncomfortable. “What’s what?”

“Obviously, you’ve seen or heard something about Rand, and you’re worrying yourself sick over it.”

Judy sent her a sidelong glance, and her shoulders drooped forward in defeat. “Am I really so easy to read?”

Karen smiled with sudden humor. “My heavens, I’ve seen James and Carter less obvious.”

Judy laughed, too, her smile more relaxed. “I was on campus the other day and saw Rand,” she began, her fingers nervously twisting her napkin. “I knew who he was the minute I saw him. I mean, you’ve talked about him enough.”

Karen knew Judy was taking a couple of classes at the university, and it didn’t surprise her that she’d seen Rand.

“Only Rand wasn’t alone.” Her eyes met Karen’s briefly. “There was a woman, a
tall blonde, with him, and Karen, I may be an old married lady, but I know a come-on when I see one. This woman was definitely on the make, and Rand was eating it up.”

“That’s Cora Dibner,” Karen interjected on a long breath. “You don’t need to tell me she’s after Rand. The lady and I have met.”

Judy sighed, visibly relieved. “I’ve been so worried. I don’t think I’ve ever seen any woman that smooth. What gets me is that Rand seemed oblivious to what was happening.”

Karen smiled ruefully. “As far as Cora is concerned, I think Rand is more aware than he lets on. I don’t doubt that he can see through that layer of cool sophistication. Rand’s no fool.”

Judy studied her sister pensively. “For your sake, I hope you’re right.”

Karen went directly to Rand’s office after work. She stopped only once at the ladies’ room to check her appearance. Her lipstick had faded, and she freshened the honeysuckle-rose color and ran a quick comb through her hair. Impishly, she sprayed her favorite fragrance to the pulse points of her neck. Rand had commented once on the delicate white ginger scent she wore. He was sure to detect it again and smile at her womanly wiles.

“Karen?” Rand’s welcome was both a question and statement.

She let herself into his office; the door between his office and his assistant’s was open, anticipating her arrival.

“Yes, it’s me.” Her heart beat a little quicker each time she saw Rand; he was everything she’d ever wanted in a man, more than she dared dream she’d find. “I hope you’re not one of those slave drivers who won’t allow coffee breaks? I’m dying for a cup.”

“Now, just a minute,” Rand teased. “There’s nothing in our contract about coffee breaks.” His expression altered. “Hmmm, you smell good.”

Excitement churned inside her. “Good enough to kiss?”

“Definitely.” His voice was both low and hoarse.

Karen floated into his open arms with the sense that this was where she belonged. The whole world could be at war, but as long as she was loved by Rand, there was nothing that could touch her. She wound her arms around his neck, marveling at the strength of his muscular shoulders. His mouth took possession of hers. It was a demanding kiss that parted her lips. Rand kissed her cheek, her ear, her eyelids, and when she groaned, he returned to her mouth. Again, Karen was trapped in a whirlpool—the warmth, the taste, the feel of him—until it didn’t matter if she ever surfaced.

With her head resting against his chest, she could hear the erradic tempo of his
heart and knew he was as affected by their kiss as she. His breathing was hoarse and uneven; his arm gently caressed her back as if he couldn’t bear to let her go.

“I have the feeling that either we start work now or we’ll spend the entire evening exactly like this.” The reluctance in his voice thrilled Karen.

She agreed, knowing she’d have a difficult time speaking, almost regretting the need to pull herself away from the hazy fog of pleasure that blurred her mind.

Reluctantly, Rand withdrew his arms and sat on the corner of his desk, giving Karen his chair, the most comfortable in the office.

When Karen began reading, her voice was shaky and a bit awkward, but gradually she gained confidence, and her tone became steady and sure.

Rand’s transformation from lover to professor was accomplished with an ease Karen envied. Could it be he wasn’t as affected by their lovemaking as she? Quickly, she dismissed the thought. Rand had lived with rigid self-control all his life. He was as affected as she; it just didn’t show.

After reading each paper, Karen wrote Rand’s comments on top of the page. She found his grading system to be stringent and uncompromising, but she was impressed by his fairness and judgment. His comments to the students included some form of encouragement, but he didn’t offer praise unless it was warranted.

At the end of the first stack of papers, Karen’s throat felt dry and scratchy.

“You need a cup of coffee,” Rand commented before she began reading the next pile. “There’s usually a pot of coffee in the kitchen.”

Karen stood, stretching her tired muscles. “Do you want a cup while I’m at it?”

“I never drink and grade papers,” he admonished her jokingly.

Karen laughed and suddenly couldn’t resist kissing him. Rand’s reaction was immediate, pulling her into his arms and deepening the contact. “Karen,” he groaned in warning, “you’re not making this any easier.”

She straightened. “Sorry.” Even now her voice sounded faintly raw from the lingering effects of his kiss.

“Karen”—he stopped her—“bring me a cup, after all. I’m going to need something to clear my head.” His eyes were warm and loving. “You don’t exactly encourage the sensible side of my nature. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, sire,” she answered saucily.

The next hour and a half were interrupted only by coffee breaks or when Karen had a question about something Rand needed to explain. They found they worked well together. Everything about them was right, Karen mused on a happy note.

“Didn’t you say something about buying me dinner?” she asked quietly after
marking Rand’s comments on the last paper.

Rand walked across the office, flexing his shoulder muscles as if he were stiff. “I had Dorothy pack us a dinner. I hope you don’t mind.” His back was turned toward her.

“Dorothy?” Was there someone besides Cora she needed to contend with?

“Dorothy is Carl’s wife.” Rand paused, taking a deep breath before raking his hand through his thick hair. “The thing is, Karen, I don’t like to eat in restaurants. Most blind people don’t. It presents an unfamiliar environment.”

Karen could have bit her tongue. How could she have been so thoughtless, so insensitive? She had made it necessary for Rand to admit something he considered a fault. It was a humbling experience that set him aside and made him appear different.

Karen was appalled at her own insensitivity. “You know, I thought I smelled something delicious when I came in this afternoon. But I couldn’t very well accuse you of hiding prime rib in your desk drawer.”

The tension faded from Rand’s face. She’d done right by making light of his admission; apologizing would only have made the situation worse.

“Dorothy did pack roast beef. Between the ginger scent you’re wearing and the aroma of beef, I’ve been like a man on the rack for the last two hours.”

Karen drew a deep, troubled breath. “Well, which one of us would you like to devour first?”

Rand groaned and reached for her, pressing a hard kiss upon her lips. But before he allowed it to develop into something deeper, he straightened. “I think you’d better unpack the picnic basket before you find out. Carl put it in the coat closet against the wall.”

Whoever Dorothy was, she certainly knew how to cook. The meal couldn’t have been prepared or packed more efficiently. Karen spread the tablecloth on the thick carpet of Rand’s office and unpacked their meal of French dip sandwiches made on crusty French bread. The beef, sliced thin, was piled on so high Karen doubted she would be able to fit the sandwich in her mouth. She poured steaming au jus into the bowls while Rand removed the cork from the bottle of wine.

“Fresh strawberries!” Karen exclaimed enthusiastically. “Where in heaven’s name did she ever find strawberries this time of year?”

Rand chuckled, the sound of his laughter brightening the evening. “I never ask. The woman’s a wonder.”

As they ate, Karen’s admiration for Dorothy grew. Everything was perfect, beautifully done.