The Backup Plan (14 page)

She was distractedly tapping her pen on the table when Maybelle breezed into the dining room, her face full of disapproval.

“Why'd you go and dump all your problems on that
girl's shoulders?” Maybelle demanded indignantly. “Don't you think she has enough on her mind?”

Dorothy stared at the housekeeper with dismay. “I never meant to add to her problems. It just sort of bubbled out.”

“You sure about that? Maybe you were sitting in here feeling sorry for yourself and saw a way to get some sympathy.”

Dorothy accepted most of Maybelle's scoldings as her due, but not this one. “I most certainly did not. Be sides, maybe it's good for her to finally know the truth.”

“That you and her daddy got married because she was on the way? That's exactly what every woman wants to find out when there's not a thing in the world she can do about it,” Maybelle chided. “I think I saw that on
Oprah
one day or maybe it was
Dr. Phil
.”

Dorothy winced. “Okay, okay, you've made your point. It was too much information. Still, for the first time in years, I actually felt as if I was connecting with my daughter.”

Maybelle gave her a hard, unrelenting look. “Instead of resenting her, you mean?”

“I never resented Dinah,” she snapped, then was overcome by shame. She scowled at Maybelle. “You see too damn much, you know that, don't you?”

Maybelle gave her hand a squeeze. “I know you love that girl, but I know you were speaking the truth earlier when you said you were like her once. I was there, remember? You had a lot of fire in you, same as she does. I suppose it's only natural for you to feel bad that she was able to do things you used to think about doing.”

“I would never have gone off to war,” Dorothy said. “She's braver than I ever was.”

“But you would have left home, instead of sticking
close by to go to college. You were a dutiful child. You did what your daddy wanted.”

“And then I tried to turn right around and make Dinah do the same thing,” she recalled. “Thank God, she didn't listen. She's become a remarkable woman.” She gave Maybelle a helpless look. “Why doesn't she seem to understand that anymore?”

“Something tells me that heart of hers is broken,” Maybelle said.

“You think the change in her is about a man?”

“That or about all those awful things she's seen, things you and I can't even imagine. If you see the trouble in her eyes same as me, isn't it time you asked her?”

“I've been asking, but she won't say a word. She never did like it when I pressed her to talk about some thing before she was ready.”

“Sometimes a mother has to do things whether her child's ready or not,” Maybelle said. “I know you've been hoping that young man can get her to open up, but isn't getting to the bottom of this your job?”

Dorothy gave her a rueful look. “Yes, ma'am,” she said dutifully. “You're my conscience, Maybelle. You al ways have been.”

“You've got a good enough conscience of your own. You just need a little practice getting in touch with it. About time, too. I won't be around forever.”

“Yes, you will,” Dorothy told her adamantly. “I'm counting on it.”

“You got a say about a lot of things in this world,” Maybelle told her. “But not about that. That one's up to the Lord.”

“Of course it is,” Dorothy agreed. “Why do you think
I'm on my knees every single night praying to Him just for that one thing?”

“Maybe you need to do some praying on a few other things while you're at it,” Maybelle chided. “Get some help for that child and maybe a sense of direction for yourself. And while you're at it, a prayer or two for your son wouldn't be amiss.”

Dorothy studied Maybelle with a narrowed gaze. “Is there something going on with Tommy Lee?”

“Nothing that hasn't been right under your nose for a good long time now. He's never going to fit into that niche his daddy has all carved out for him. Pray on that.”

Dorothy had always admired Maybelle's unshakeable faith, but she also believed that people had a duty to find their own way. Maybe the truth was that everyone needed to combine the two approaches.

“You say your prayers, Maybelle,” she said. “I'll get to work on a plan.”

“You and your plans,” the housekeeper said with a shake of her head. “When you going to get it through your head that the Lord's up there having Himself a laughing fit every time He sees you trying to set everything down on paper in a nice, orderly list?”

“Lists give me comfort,” Dorothy replied stubbornly.

“How many lists you got there in front of you?” Maybelle asked. “A dozen? Maybe more?”

“I suppose.”

“I thought so. Now you look me in the eye and tell me you feel the least bit comfortable this morning.”

Despite herself, Dorothy chuckled. “Okay, maybe you have a point.”

“Well, of course I do,” Maybelle said smugly. “Now
clear this stuff off my table. I've got furniture polishing to do this morning and you're holding me up.”

Before she could go, Dorothy reached for her hand. “Maybelle,” she said urgently. “This is going to work out, isn't it?”

“I don't read tea leaves,” Maybelle said. “But I do know this. Things tend to work out exactly the way they're supposed to.” She met Dorothy's gaze. “Sometimes you just have to show a little patience.”

But that was exactly the problem, Dorothy thought wearily. She'd been waiting for decades for something dramatic to happen to change her life and her patience was starting to wear a little thin.

 

Cord suspected that Dinah thought she'd been doing a pretty decent job of avoiding him. He'd been so busy for the past few days that he hadn't had ten seconds to pester her. Still, he'd been mulling over everything that Maggie had told him. He knew he was going to have to push Dinah harder if he was going to get her to finally tell him the truth.

He'd asked her mother less than an hour ago if she'd made any progress on that front. She admitted she hadn't. Apparently she was as reluctant to press the issue as he had been up till now.

Armed with grim determination, he went looking for Dinah in the most obvious place—at home. Maybelle gave him a glass of iced tea and pointed him in the direction of the pool.

“If she spends much more time in there, she's going to shrivel up like a prune,” she predicted direly. “Do something.”

“I intend to,” Cord assured her.

He exited through a pair of French doors and found
Dinah exactly as described, submerged up to her neck in the pool. All that clear, cool water looked refreshing on such a steamy afternoon, but it was plain she was making a career out of lolling around in it. The tips of her fingers were, indeed, shriveled.

“Looks inviting,” he said, hunkering down on the edge and trailing his hand through the water till his finger skimmed her shoulder.

Dinah gave an involuntary shudder. “Mother's not home, if that's why you're here,” she said, not meeting his gaze.

“I know. I left her driving the plumbing contractor crazy. She can't decide on the fixtures for the public rest rooms at Covington. Personally, I figure a urinal's a urinal, but she seems to have something else in mind.”

That earned him a quick smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. “I hope you charged the board enough for this project.”

“Believe me, we calculated in the nuisance factor.”

“So, if you're not here to see Mother, why are you here?”

“I thought maybe you and I could talk.”

Her expression immediately turned wary. “About?”

“Why an internationally-known foreign correspondent is lazing away the afternoon in her family's backyard pool as if she doesn't have a care in the world?”

“I'm on vacation.”

“Really? I heard you quit,” he said bluntly.

Temper flashed in her eyes, but she didn't rush to deny it. “So what if I did?” she retorted instead.

“Why would you quit a job you loved, one you'd made a success of?”

“I don't see how that's any of your concern.”

“Technically, I suppose you're right, but if you and I are going to get something started, then I think I have a right to know whether you're going to bolt at the first sign of trouble the way you apparently bolted off your job.”

Her mouth opened, then snapped shut again.

Cord waited.

She sighed eventually. “There are so many things wrong with that sentence, I don't know where to begin.”

“Doesn't matter. Just start.”

“You and I are not starting anything.”

“I think we are. I imagine I could prove it, too.”

“How?”

He leaned down, tucked a hand under her chin and kissed her, lightly at first, then with the kind of passion he hadn't felt in years. Then he rocked back on his heels. “There you go,” he said, giving her a look that dared her to contradict him. “Same spontaneous combustion every time we try it. Anything that predictable has to mean something.”

She blinked hard, then swallowed. “I don't bolt from trouble,” she said. “The truth is everyone thought it would be for the best if I came home.”

“Everyone?”

“My producer, okay? And the network. I was the only one who wasn't entirely convinced.”

“Then why didn't you fight it?”

“I tried. Then, I don't know, it just didn't seem worth fighting about it anymore.”

“Because of the panic attacks?” he guessed.

“They certainly didn't help,” she admitted.

“So you thought it would be easier just to come home
and jump headfirst into a nice, safe relationship with my brother?”

“If I did, so what? It was my decision to make.”

“Was it really? Or were you pushed into it?”

“Okay, I was pushed into coming home, but the whole thing about Bobby was my idea. We had a deal, but you know that. We've discussed it ad nauseum.”

“Wasn't there any other alternative?” he asked. “An other assignment that would have been less stressful?”

“I didn't want another assignment. Everyone would have looked at it as if it were a demotion. I thought it was time to settle down.”

“No, you wanted something safe,” he corrected. “But you don't need safe, Dinah. You've spent your entire adult life avoiding safe.”

“Maybe I don't need more of the same.” Her gaze narrowed. “And in case you're wondering, I most certainly don't need you.”

“That remains to be seen,” Cord said mildly. “Let's get back to my original question. Why are you here, even now that you know Bobby is no longer an option? Why haven't you formulated some new plan and rushed off to put it into action?”

“I'm working on it,” she claimed, avoiding his gaze. “Meantime, I'm enjoying being home.”

“And you're going to be content to spend your days up to your neck in chlorinated water and sipping iced tea with fading debutantes, maybe following in your mama's footsteps and chairing a fund-raiser from time to time?”

“Yes,” she said emphatically.

“Liar. Tell me what really happened to send you scurrying home. I'm not talking about your boss pushing
you. I'm asking
why
he pushed you. What sent you off the deep end, Dinah?”

She glowered at him, her lips clamped shut.

He kept right on pushing, despite her defiant silence. “Did you miss a story? Wander in front of a stray bullet? What?”

“Nothing happened,” she insisted, her voice escalating. “It was time for a change and I made one. You don't have to like it, Cordell. You don't have to under stand it. It's my decision, period. And if I want to hang out in this pool till hell freezes over, that's my call, too!”

Cord sighed. He could tell he'd pushed her back to the wall and he wouldn't get anything more out of her, not today. But at least she was on notice that he wasn't going to let her get away with hiding out from the past and from him for too much longer.

D
inah was beginning to wonder if she could get on the
Dr. Phil Show
. Surely he'd be interested in interviewing a brilliant television news reporter who'd braved war zones and now suddenly found it nearly impossible to leave her own house for much more than a trip to buy chocolate. If she hadn't rediscovered her old addiction to Godiva, she might not have even done that. Her expedition to find Bobby seemed to have been the last burst of her old energy that she could summon. She had nothing left with which to battle wits with Cord, who still seemed determined to make her recovery his mission in life.

Thankfully, her room still provided a nice, safe little cocoon where not even Cordell could pester her with uncomfortable questions. She was fairly sure even he wasn't brash enough to risk her mother's wrath if she were to catch him upstairs. The pool clearly was no longer a safe haven. Certainly she should be allowed to sink into a damn depression if she wanted to even if it was totally uncharacteristic of her.

Cord, however, didn't seem inclined to let her get away with it for a single second. In fact, she could hear
him arguing with Maybelle downstairs. Hopefully she was standing her ground and telling him exactly what Dinah had instructed her to say. Maybelle could be pretty formidable when she wanted to be.

Apparently she wasn't successful today, Dinah concluded when she heard the thump of distinctly male footsteps coming her way. Apparently her faith in the housekeeper and in Cord's fear of her mother had been misplaced. Unless she hid in a closet, he was going to march right into her room and find her still dressed in the oversize T-shirt she went to sleep wearing. Since it was almost noon, her attire was going to be hard to explain.

When the door opened without so much as a knock, she worked up the energy to scowl at him.

“Didn't Maybelle tell you I didn't want to be disturbed?” she inquired irritably as she gathered the thick comforter around her. Thank goodness for air-conditioning or she'd roast to death while she tried to get Cord out of her face and out of her room.

“She did,” he said agreeably.

“But, of course, you didn't listen.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Did you think I would? Surely you know me better than that, sugar.”

“What about my mother? You know she wouldn't approve of you being up here.”

He regarded her with pity. “Come on, Dinah. You know your mama doesn't scare me.”

“She should. She scares the daylights out of me when she's on a rampage.”

“Only when you're not feeling up to your spunky self, I suspect,” Cord said. “Now do you want to know why I'm here or not?”

“I imagine you think you're going to cheer me up,” she said.

He grinned. “Exactly. Now get some clothes on and let's hit the road.”

“I don't think so.”

He shrugged, obviously not impressed by her refusal. “Okay, then,” he said. “I'll just join you.”

She stared at him in alarm as he kicked off his shoes and reached for the snap on his jeans. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”

“You don't want me crawling into that bed with my clothes on, do you? Your mama surely would be angry if I put these old work boots on her fine Egyptian cotton sheets.”

“What do you know about Egyptian cotton?” Dinah asked, distracted for a moment from the far more important issue of why Cord thought for one instant she would let him join her in her own bed. The queen-size mattress was big, but not big enough for the two of them. The perverse attraction she'd been feeling toward him was unnerving and she didn't need to tempt fate. Apparently her hormones hadn't died along with the rest of her.

“Enough to recognize it when I see it and when I feel it against my bare backside,” he said audaciously.

“You keep your backside off this bed,” Dinah ordered, scrambling up while still clutching the comforter. “And keep your clothes on.”

He stood there with his zipper halfway down. “You sure about that?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then you're coming with me?”

She weighed that against the alternative, which was clearly going to be a seduction right here under her
mother's roof. If she couldn't muster the energy to go out for lunch, she could hardly fight off the unexpected attraction she'd developed for Cord, especially not if he was even close to bare-assed and in her bed.

“Where?” she inquired warily.

“Does it really matter?”

“It might.”

“The sun's out. There's a breeze stirring. I've got the convertible outside with the top down. I thought we'd take a ride over to the beach, wander around a little, sniff in some of that salt air, maybe stop for a burger and fries. What do you say?”

“Shouldn't you be working?”

“It's Sunday. I may not make it to church, but even I take Sunday off. Come to think of it, I'm a little surprised you didn't go off to church with your mama and daddy.”

“They stopped pushing me to do that after the first couple of times I turned them down.” She studied him curiously. “If you thought I'd be at church, why did you come by?”

“Took a chance,” he said lightly.

Dinah didn't believe him, even though the lie had tripped right off his tongue. Spinning a good story was second nature to Cord. Lord knows, he'd done a good job when he'd told Bobby all about her supposed fling with another man. As close as she and Bobby had been, he'd believed his big brother. The rift might have been permanent, if she hadn't found out quickly enough and proved Cord had made the whole thing up to keep the two of them apart.

She glowered at him now. “My mother called you, didn't she? You're doing her a favor.”

“This has nothing to do with your mother. I'm here
because I thought we could spend a little time by the ocean. I find it soothing.”

Dinah had always found the beach to be soothing, too. She told herself that was why she eventually caved in and said yes. Maybe the change of scenery would do what nothing else had. Maybe it would calm her and ease her soul.

“I'll be down in ten minutes,” she told Cord.

He gave her a disappointed look. “Darn, I thought maybe you were going to let me hang around and get an eyeful.”

“You wish,” she said, trying to hide the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. The man was outrageous, but he was beginning to grow on her. Of course, she didn't trust him, but that hardly mattered because all they were doing was hanging out together.

And her mother was definitely right about one thing. When she was with Cord, she actually did feel alive. The effect he had on her was rather remarkable. She was be ginning to wonder if he would agree to a wicked, no-strings fling. Something told her it would be memorable.

And maybe that memory would finally be powerful enough to wipe out all the other devastating memories she couldn't seem to shake.

 

As they got closer to the sea, Cord noticed that Dinah visibly relaxed. The tension in her shoulders eased and a smile actually touched her lips from time to time. With her dark glasses covering her eyes, he couldn't see if the usual turmoil was still evident there, but he was beginning to think he'd had a fine idea when Dorothy Davis had called to plead with him to get Dinah out of the house.

He watched as Dinah leaned forward, clearly anticipating the moment when she would be able to catch her first glimpse of the water. When she did, she sighed with obvious pleasure.

“We used to come out here every single summer for a month,” she told him. “Mother and Tommy Lee and me. Daddy would come when he could, usually on weekends and for maybe a week in the middle. Tommy Lee and I thought we'd died and gone to heaven because we were allowed to run around barefoot and wear our swimsuits all day long.” She gave him a sad look. “Life was so much simpler then.”

“It usually is when you're a kid,” Cord responded. “My best memories are of summertime. Of course, Bobby and I were lucky if we got to the beach even once, but we were allowed to spend all day away from home, riding our bikes, and steering clear of our father. In the morning, our mother would give us each a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich and a dollar for something to drink.” He grinned. “We always split one drink and got a couple of Popsicles or a candy bar with the rest of the money.”

“What did you do all day?”

“Found some other kids and played baseball or just rode our bikes to the Battery and sat by the water. Once in a while we'd run into a kid from school who lived nearby and he'd invite us home for lunch. Actually, he'd invite Bobby, but Bobby would always say he couldn't go without me. You should have seen the horrified look on the mother's face when her kid showed up with us in tow. I'd have turned around and left, but not Bobby. He just assumed we truly were welcome and breezed right on in. Next thing you'd know, sure enough, he'd won over the mother. I envied him that ability to make people look past his upbringing.”

“You could have done the same thing,” Dinah said. “Goodness knows, you don't lack for charm now.”

Cord chuckled. “It comes in handy from time to time,” he acknowledged. “Back then, though, it was a matter of pride. I wanted to be accepted for me, not because I knew how to kiss up to somebody.”

“Was it hard?” Dinah asked. “I mean knowing that somebody had smoothed the way for you to be in our school, that some benefactor had paid the bills?”

“I hated it,” he said succinctly. “But at least I wasn't fool enough to turn my back on it. I had just enough sense to see that it was an opportunity I had to grab or I'd wind up losing way more than I gained.”

“Is that why you took every opportunity to remind the rest of us we were a bunch of privileged snobs?”

“Indeed,” he said. “I wanted all of you to know that I could have the same education you had, but I didn't have to be you. I was determined to be my own man.”

“Did you ever figure out who'd paid the bills?” she asked.

Cord shrugged. “Never seemed to matter, though once I was older, I wanted to thank him. I tried to get the school's administrator to tell me, but that old biddy was as tight-lipped then as she had been when I was causing trouble in her classrooms. Told me to be grateful and maybe pass along the kindness when I had the chance.”

“That must have been frustrating.” She studied him intently. “Is there anything you regret about staying on the outside?”

Cord gave the question thoughtful consideration. “I suppose if I'm being totally honest, I'd have to say it was lonely.” He grinned. “At least until a few of the
girls decided to live dangerously and start going out with me.”

“I imagine you loved that, not just the social life, but knowing you were driving their mamas and daddies crazy,” Dinah guessed.

“Absolutely. What's the fun of doing something wicked, if it's not going to stir things up?”

“Is that still your philosophy?”

Cord glanced over at her. “Pretty much.”

She lifted her gaze to his and for the first time he could recall since she'd come back, there was something bold and full of life flashing in her eyes. It caught him by surprise and set his blood humming.

“Want to do something wicked with me?” she asked, her gaze unblinking.

Cord couldn't seem to tear his gaze away. “What are you suggesting, Dinah?”

“The beach is pretty private around here,” she said, her expression all innocence, despite the heavy innuendo in her tone.

An image of steamy sex on a beach blanket immediately formed in his head and nearly had him swallowing his tongue. He needed to be absolutely certain, though, that he knew what she was suggesting. He couldn't afford to get this one wrong. Heck, he even sup posed he needed to know for sure if
she
understood what she was suggesting.

“What did you have in mind?” he asked. “And, please, be explicit, sugar.”

“You don't want to use your imagination?” she asked, opening the car door and heading off across the dunes after casting one, last tantalizing look over her shoulder.

Cord's imagination had gotten him in way too much
trouble over the years. He wasn't taking any chances this time. He grabbed a blanket and cooler from the back seat of the car and set off after her.

Once he crested the dune, he began to find a very provocative trail of footprints and clothing. A sandal here, a scarf there. When he spotted the shorts and halter top, he dropped everything he was carrying and started strip ping off his own clothes.

“Please tell me she had a bikini on under there,” he murmured as he got down to his own swimsuit. It was the noblest moment of his life. He knew if he walked into the ocean and found Dinah stark naked, he was going to turn the entire Atlantic into a steambath. He was already hard and aching. He needed her to be wearing…something.

He splashed out in the water, grateful that it was still cold enough to bring his temperature down to a simmer. She popped up beside him, her shoulders completely bare, the water teasing at her chest which, thank heaven, was still submerged.

“You certainly took your time getting here,” she said, moving closer, that diabolical glint back in her eyes.

“Something tells me I had on more clothes than you did,” he said in a strangled voice.

She grinned. “You certainly do now.”

Cord thought desperately. Nobility was not what it was cracked up to be. He would have backed up a step, but his feet were surprisingly firmly planted even in the shifting sand.

“What are you up to?” he asked warily.

An expression of pure mischief spread across her face. “Cordell Beaufort, don't tell me that reputation of yours is bogus. Surely you recognize when a woman is coming on to you.”

“Oh, I recognize the signs, no question about that,” he
said. “But since it's you we're talking about, I'm thinking maybe an explanation is in order.”