Trust Me on This (16 page)

Dennie closed the door behind her and sat down, putting everything she could into her next sentence. "Do you know the story about Margaret Mead? Somebody asked her why her marriages had failed and she said…"

Alec Prentice sifted through the last box of documents from the Bond case as the August sun streamed through his office window. His office now, not Harry's. He was glad about that and not glad. He missed Harry snarling at him. He missed Harry ignoring him while pounding the computer. But mostly he missed Dennie.

In the four months since she'd left, she'd called every day—or he'd called her when she'd stayed in one place long enough to have a number—until last week when the calls had trickled down to three. Then this week, there hadn't been any at all. She was on the road again, no number for him to call, and the worst part was, this was the week she was deciding which job in New York she was going to take. She'd gotten three offers after the Meredith article had been published, two not-so-good ones and one very good one which had seemed like a no-brainer to Alec but not to Dennie. There must have been something else.

Maybe she'd been trying to tell him they were finished. After all, counting the conference when they'd met, they'd spent only four weekends together. You couldn't build a relationship on that. Well, Alec could, but evidently Dennie couldn't.

He checked the last of the documents and was beginning to unload everything from his desk back into the box when he noticed one more paper, stuck half under the folded bottom of the carton.

It was the fax Aunt Vic had sent him. 'Four Fabulous Days! Three Glorious Nights!'
Ob, hell
, Alec thought. If he'd only known the damn thing was a prediction instead of a come-on, he wouldn't have…

The hell he wouldn't have.

All right, he needed Dennie and she thought she didn't need him, but that was wrong. He'd just track her down and—

I have to do this on my own
, she'd said. All right, he wouldn't track her down. He'd just sit tight and trust her on this. He loved her. She loved him. She'd come through.

Maybe.

He shoved the sorted papers off his desk into the box and punched the intercom for his secretary. "All this stuff can be filed, Kath," he told her. "Whenever you've got the time."

"I can do it now," she said cheerfully. "Also you have a call on one." Her voice grew cheerier. "It's Dennie."

Alec grabbed the phone, and all his altruistic plans went south. "
Where have you been
?"

"I've been busy," Dennie said lamely, but even lame, her voice was wonderful. She went on, her voice full of nerves. "A few things came up."

"A few things?
A few things
? You didn't call for
three days
." Alec leaned back in his desk chair and told himself to calm down. "You had me scared to death."

"Sorry," Dennie said, and her voice cracked.

Something was wrong. His pulse kicked up again. "Don't ever do that again. Now tell me what's wrong, and we'll fix it."

"Nothing's wrong, and I won't do it again." Dennie stopped, and Alec gave her as long as he could before he prompted her.

"So. Which job did you decide to take?"

"What?"

"Which job? You had three offers in New York, remember? Which one did you take?"

"Well, actually, none of them." Dennie swallowed again. "I sort of jumped."

Alec's heart sank. More job-hunting. Less Dennie. "None of them?"

"None of them. I didn't like New York." She hesitated. "You weren't there."

"Oh." Alec's heart rose again. So maybe she'd come to Chicago. He closed his eyes at the thought and started thinking of arguments to convince her. "Good decision."

"I thought so." Dennie's voice picked up a little more speed and a lot more confidence. "So since the
Trib
loved the article I sold
Chicago Magazine
on the database, I called them. I have an interview tomorrow."

"The
Trib
? The
Tribune
? The
Chicago Tribune
?"

"That's the one." Dennie sounded unnaturally breezy. "I see them tomorrow."

"Oh."
Don't yell, "Yahoo
," Alec told himself.
That would be immature
. "So when are you getting in? Can I meet you at the airport?"

"Uh, no. I told you. I jumped." He could hear her swallowing over the phone. "I know we never discussed commitment or anything, and I should have talked to you about this, but I couldn't stand it anymore, and… I'm here, Alec. I know I should have called to see if you wanted—"

"You're
here
?" Alec stood up. "You're at O'Hare?"

"No, I really jumped," Dennie said. "I'm here in the lobby of your building."

"My building?" He almost dropped the phone. "
This building
?"

"Right. This building," Dennie said. "But if you don't want…"

Alec dropped the phone and headed for the door. He took the six flights of stairs at a run when the elevator turned out to be at somebody else's floor—somebody else who didn't have the rest of his life waiting in the lobby—and he hit the ground floor at a run, only to stop in the middle of the lobby, lost. She wasn't there.

Then his eyes reached the row of old phone booths in the back. She was biting her lip, leaning a little against the booth, wearing a sleeveless white dress with a big red belt cinched around her waist and dangling red earrings the size of half dollars. He absorbed it all—her lush red lips and glossy dark curls and the fullness of her body above and below the red belt and most of all her eyes, huge with apprehension—all of her hit him like a punch to the solar plexus.

He went to meet her using everything he had not to run to her.

"Alec," she said, and the crack in her voice was there beside him, not over a damned telephone wire, and she was there beside him, not half a continent away, and the lobby was full of people. He took her arm—she was warm and solid and right there with him and he lost his breath for a minute—and hauled her out the front door and around the corner of the building to a side street, and then he pulled her into his arms and kissed the breath out of both of them, falling into her the way he had ever since that first kiss by her hotel door.

"We have to do something about this distance thing," he said when they'd both come up for air and he had her plastered up against the building. "I'm not letting go of you again."

"You don't have to take care of me," Dennie said. "I mean, just because I'm moving here doesn't mean that I expect to move in with you or anything."

"Well, that's good to know," Alec said. "Are you
nuts
? Of course, you're moving in with me. The only time we talk on the phone from now on is to make dinner plans." He held her tighter, still not quite believing she was there. "I've been very patient—" Then the rest of it hit him and he stepped back a little to get a good look at her face. "What do you mean, you're moving here? I mean, I know you're moving here because I'm not letting you go anywhere else, but you're planning on moving here? Even if you don't get the
Trib
job?"

"I've moved." Dennie smiled at him, the smile that always said,
I can do this, I think
, Dennie's own mix of fear and determination. "I told you. I jumped. Everything I own is either at the airport or being shipped as soon as I give them an address."

"You've moved," Alec said, dumbfounded.

"It's all right," Dennie said hastily. "I'm not taking anything for granted. If you don't want—"

Alec cut her off. "It takes three days to get a marriage license in Illinois. Can you stand living in sin for three days?"

"Yes," Dennie said.

Alec took a deep breath. "Will you marry me in three days?"

"Yes," Dennie said, and he pulled her back close and thought,
Thank God
.

"I didn't think I'd ever hear you say it," he said into her hair as he rocked her back and forth.

"I always knew you would," Dennie said against his chest, all her confidence back. "I just wasn't sure what you'd say when I said it."

"Then you haven't been paying attention." He pulled back again so he could look at her. "Listen, as long as I'm on a roll, can I smear you with hot fudge and whipped cream on our honeymoon? I never did get to do that."

"Yes," Dennie said, beaming at him in relief. "You can smear me with hot fudge and whipped cream until you're a hundred. I love you. I couldn't stand being without you."

He cradled her cheek in his hand. "Good. Because you're never going to be without me again. I love you, Dennie Banks. Don't ever make me wait like that again."

"I never will," Dennie said, holding on to him for dear life. "I swear I never will." When he still looked worried, she added, "Trust me on this," and he laughed and said, "I do."

Two weeks later and twelve hundred miles away, Victoria picked up the mail at the end of the dusty dirt drive that led back into the sliver of undevelopable beachfront property she and Harry had bought from Bond after all. They'd gone down to look at it on their honeymoon, just to see what all the fuss had been over, and the sheer raw beauty of the place had left them standing in the middle of nowhere, staring at each other.

"He should have had pictures," Harry had said, looking around before he grinned at her. "The dumb cluck didn't know what he had."

"Can he sell land from prison?" Victoria asked, and Harry said, "Are you out of your mind?" and shortly after that, Bond found himself a lot richer, although not as rich as he'd hoped since Harry insisted on giving him a fair market price. Also he was still in prison and would be for a while, Sheree having proved very helpful at the end.

Victoria stopped halfway down the road and savored the birds and the smell of the ocean before she picked up speed. By the time she was up the gangplank on the
Victoria
, she was calling Harry's name.

"I'm up here," he called from the top deck "It's a houseboat, Vic. I can't go far enough that you need to yell."

"I like yelling your name," she said, climbing the last stair to the roof. "Also we have mail." She tossed it in his lap, and he tipped his hat back and grinned at her.
God, I'm lucky
, she thought, and then, just to make him crazy, she said, "Donald wrote."

Harry scowled. "That idiot. Didn't you tell him you were married?"

"Yes." Victoria settled into her chair next to him and looked out over the water. "He wants to know where to buy a houseboat. Sheree is tired of Belize because there's nowhere to shop, and she heard we're living on this darling boat and she wants one."

"Tell me they are not docking next door," Harry said.

"Harry, we own next door," Victoria told him. "Also, both Donald and Sheree have the attention span of gnats. By the time they're back in the States, they'll want something else. They sound happy, and that's all that matters." She snuggled down in her chair and lifted her face to the sun. "Life is good," she said, and then she waved the letters she hadn't given him. "Alec also wrote. He and Dennie are ecstatic. Oh, and they're coming down next week on their honeymoon."

"What?" Harry reached for Alec's letter. "Who's going to watch the database?"

"Harry," Victoria said warningly, holding the letter out of his reach, and he grinned.

"Right," he said. "No more database. I'll just have to make do with you."

"Life's hell,' Victoria agreed, and stretched a little in the sun.

"Too much sun is bad for you," Harry said.

"There's nothing below but a bed," Victoria said.

"Like I said"—Harry stood and pulled her to her feet—"we'll just have to make do."

Sixty-two years it took me to get this
, Victoria thought, laughing and following him down the stairs as he tugged on her hand. But when she got to the bedroom, she stopped. "I left Alec's letter up there," she told Harry, and ran back up the stairs.

She found it before it blew away, and as she picked it up she noticed there was something on the back. It was the invitation she'd faxed him five months before. "Thought you'd get a kick out of this," he'd written at the top. "And by the way, thanks for inviting me. I had a
great
time."

'Four fabulous days and three glorious nights.'
More than that
, Victoria thought.
Fabulous days and glorious nights for the rest of my life
.

The wind blew up and took the letter from her, and she snatched at it to get it back but it blew out to sea.

It didn't matter. Its work was done anyway. The last line of the invitation had been right. Her life had never been the same. Victoria lifted her face to the sun one more time, and then went down to join Harry.

Life really was good.

THE EDITORS'

CORNER

People often ask how we can keep track of all the LOVESWEPTs, die authors and their stories, and good grief, all the characters! It's actually pretty easy. We're fortunate to have some of the most talented authors writing for us, telling beautiful stories about memorable and endearing characters. 7b lose track of them would be like losing track of what's going on in the lives of our closest friends! The August LOVESWEPT lineup is no exception to the rule. We hope you enjoy these stories as much as we did!

First up is Loveswept favorite Laura Taylor, who leaves us all breathless with ANTICIPATION, LOVESWEPT #846. Viva Conrad fled Kentucky without warning, leaving behind a life she adored and silencing her dreams in a gamble to keep the people she loved safe. Spencer Hammond will stop at nothing to discover the truth of her desertion and her involvement in his stepbrother's death. Brought together by the wishes of a dead man and a racehorse guaranteed to win it all, Viva and Spencer must learn to tolerate each other for the good of their investment. As their individual agendas collide, the two must also deal with the unexpected attraction that flares to life between them, amid secrets that threaten to destroy what they long to build together. Suspense rivals sensuality in Laura Taylor's riveting saga of dangerous secrets and shadowy seductions.

Next on the docket, Peggy Webb returns with an exciting romp through the southern part of heaven with a man who can only be referred to as Tarzan on a Harley. After having headed for the hills to forget a thoughtless scoundrel, B. J. Corban is now stuck with the job of BRINGING UP BAXTER, LOVE-SWEPT #847. Baxter, you see, is this cute little puppy who's trying to steal everyone's heart (and the limelight as well). However, when B. J. gets a look at the muscular legs encased in the tight leather pants of Crash Beauregard, she scents danger and irresistible possibilities. Prim lawyer that she is, B. J. tries to resist the devilish charms of the sexy rebel. Peggy teases and tempts with delicious wit and delectable humor as she reveals just what happens when a big-city lawyer and a judge from the sticks tangle over a case of true love.

Detective Aaron Stone desperately needs a break in the murder investigation of notorious drug dealer Owen Blake in BLACK VELVET, LOVESWEPT #848 by Kristen Robinette. So when a phone call comes through for the deceased dealer, Aaron jumps on this new lead. On a lark, {Catherine Jackson tries to contact the man of her dreams, just to see if he really exists. When they meet, the attraction sizzles and Aaron must now decide whether this woman with die face of an angel bears die heart of a killer. {Catherine's dreams begin to reveal more secrets, this time involving Aaron. These secrets evoke more emotions than Aaron can bear and it's up to {Catherine to give him new hope where none had seemed possible. Kristen Robinette's story is woven of equal parts mesmerizing mystery and heartbreaking emotion and is guaranteed to touch your heart, as a man's heart is slowly healed by the love of his life.

Please welcome newcomer Kathy DiSanto, who gives us a story about a man struggling to decide if women want him FOR LOVE OR MONEY, LOVESWEPT #849. Acting on a dare has never worked out well for teacher Jennifer Casey. But when she's
triple-dog
dared to write a letter to millionaire Brent Maddox, her pride leaves her no choice. When he shows up at her doorstep with a dare of his own, Jen must spend a week with Brent in his "natural habitat" to see how the other half lives. Hobnobbing with the rich and famous has taught Jen that their lives are vasdy different from hers, but can Brent teach her odierwise? As dieir tempers collide and dieir hearts unite, Jen and Brent must build a bridge between dieir two worlds. Kadiy's romantic tale of two unlikely lovers is fast-paced and funny—and one you'll never forget!

By now you guys must have seen die new LOVESWEPT look. We hope you are as pleased widi it as we are. Please let us know what you think by writing to us in care of Joy Abella, or even visiting our BDD Online web site (http://www.bdd.com/ romance)!

Happy reading! With warmest regards,