TWICE VICTORIOUS (13 page)

She dialed. To her surprise, the receptionist said Adam was on another line.
Would she care to hold?

She would. She had a lot to say to him.

As she twisted the telephone cord around her finger, Stell tried to sort out her
contradictory feelings. On the one hand, she was relieved that he was in his office. That
meant his mother must be holding her own, at least.

But on the other hand, she was mildly angry, too. He should have known she was
concerned. Why hadn't he let her know his mother's condition? He'd said he'd call, hadn't
he? For all she knew, he might have walked off the edge of the world.

"Ms. McCray? Mr. Vanderhook will call you back. He's going to be tied up for
some time." The receptionist sounded harried.

"Of course. I just called to see how is mother is, anyway."

"Oh, I can tell you that. Mrs. Vanderhook is resting comfortably and will be
having surgery tomorrow morning."

"What...?"

"I'm sorry, Ms. McCray. I have several incoming calls. Mr. Vanderhook will get
back to you." The line went dead.

Stell glared at the phone. His mother must be more than mildly ill if she was going
in for surgery so soon. "Well, there's nothing I can do," she said to herself. "And I've
certainly got enough to keep me busy."

Her sloppy self-indulgence had put her behind. Usually three or four hours a day
kept her current. She hadn't even turned on the computer last week. She hadn't done much
of anything after seeing Carl last Monday.

If Adam hadn't appeared Friday night, shaking her out of her cocoon of self-pity,
she would still be lazing on the couch, stuffing her face and weeping over Disney
movies.

She reached for the file folder containing
The Nu U
's accounts payable.
Right now she had more important things to do than ponder rhetorical questions. Yesterday
had been the beginning of her new regimen of self-discipline. She had not allowed herself
to be distracted from her work for anything, no matter how tempted she'd been to call
Adam.

Stell managed to forget that she was waiting for Adam's call as she worked
through her neglected tasks. At the rate she was going, she thought while standing in the
kitchen about noon, nibbling carrot sticks, she would be all caught up by Friday. That was
good, because she was scheduled to officiate at the Mayor's Race next Sunday.

Perhaps Adam would like to go with her. He'd seemed to enjoy the race at the
velodrome. This would show him another side to cycling, the street race. Perhaps after the
race they could rent one of those surreys, if Adam would peddle. They could tour
Waterfront Park, see the new sculptures and watch the people.

She stared at the receiver in her hand. When had she picked that up? He was going
to call her. When he had time, the receptionist had said.

Just where did she fit on his list of priorities, she wondered.

She had the answer about five that evening. Low. Very low. Adam still hadn't
called.

There was a Pizza Hut coupon somewhere in the mess on the front of the
refrigerator. She just didn't feel like cooking something nutritious if she was going to eat
alone.

She didn't feel like exercising either. After sitting at her desk all day, she was
tired, stiff, and achy. The simple exercises she was allowed wouldn't help that. All they'd
do is make her hip ache.

Maybe a bath would make her feel better. No, she didn't feel like a bath. She
picked up the TV schedule on her way to the kitchen. Perhaps there would be something
worth watching, a good mystery, say, or a bright comedy. Something to cheer her up.

Adam hadn't called. Did that mean his mother was no longer resting comfortably?
Had he forgotten she'd called, that he'd promised to call her back. Was he taking this
opportunity to break things off between them?

Darn! She had to get to the grocery. There wasn't a thing in her refrigerator. All
her veggies were dead, slimy messes in the crisper. Some of the contents of covered dishes
seemed to be growing interesting crops, too. All she had in the house was junk food, which
she really needed to toss before she took solace in it again.

She glanced at the calendar, wondering just how long it had been since she'd
shopped. Oh lord! Tonight was her regular evening out with Cindy.

Dressing for dinner and a movie was the last thing she was in the mood to do.
Cindy would insist on a complete rundown of her activities the last few weeks, including
how well her injuries were healing. She couldn't lie about what Carl had told her last week,
not to her best friend. She'd call and beg off. Cindy would just have to understand.

The phone receiver was lying on the counter. Off the hook.

How in the world had it gotten there?

She'd thought about calling Adam at noon, but surely she'd replaced it in the
cradle. Hadn't she?

Obviously not.

She must have gone downstairs before the irritating buzzing that announced an
off-the-hook phone began. Her office was far enough from the kitchen that she hadn't
heard it.

It was five-thirty. Maybe he would still be in his office. She dialed.

He wasn't. After an afternoon of trying to reach her, he'd probably given up and
gone home. She nibbled on her thumbnail. What should she do? His home phone was
unlisted and he'd never given the number to her. She didn't know his sister's married name,
and his mother was in the hospital.

"That's it! He'll be going to the hospital tonight." She grabbed the phone book and
riffled through its pages. Within minutes she was learning that the phone in Mrs.
Vanderhook's room was busy and that the switchboard was unable to take messages for
visitors to patients.

"You're crazy, that's what," she told herself as she replaced the receiver, making
sure it was really in place. "You don't even know he wants to see you."

Maybe he was disgusted at her brazen behavior. Was he the old fashioned sort of
man who wanted to be in charge, especially in matters sexual?

She looked down at her hands. They still remembered the weight of him, the hard
length of him, the way he had trusted her as he gasped and thrust his way to completion
had brought her to a peak of unfamiliar desire. Only a shred of her usual common sense
had kept her from joining herself with him in wild abandon.

In a public place, beside a public road, she'd been half a thought away from having
it all.

The phone rang.

* * * *

Was she depressed again? Holed up in her living room before the TV, alleviating
her depression with food, blanking her mind with schlock. Was that why Stell's phone had
been off the hook all afternoon?

If only Juliana hadn't panicked Friday night. Mom had been in extreme pain,
certainly, but it wasn't the first time she'd had an attack like this. It was just the first time
his sister had been forced to deal with one. She hadn't even listened when Mom tried to tell
her that her pills and time would eventually end her pain.

Well, at least this time Mom was where she ought to be, in the hospital. And she
was scheduled to have her gall bladder taken care of finally. After months of resisting
Adam's entreaties to do something about the increasingly frequent attacks, Juliana had
solved the whole problem.

On second thought, he should be glad she'd panicked.

This time her phone rang, instead of giving him a busy signal. This time Stell
answered.

"Good. You're there," he said, before she could say more than hello.

There was a long silence. Finally, "Adam, it's so good of you to call."

"I've been busy." Talk about understatement.

"I assumed as much." He shivered in the chill of her voice.

"Damn it, Stell, I've had Mei Lei dialing your line every fifteen minutes all night.
Why was your phone off the hook?" He'd thought at first that she was having an unusually
long business conversation, but after the first futile hour he'd drawn the only conclusion
possible. She'd changed her mind about wanting to talk to him.

"Who's Melly?" No warmer.

"Never mind. I've been tied up since I got here, but I had to talk to you." He drew
a deep breath. "Look, things got a little crazy. Juliana's message sounded like Mom was on
the brink of death. I couldn't think about anything but getting to her. Then Saturday
morning..."

"I'm not upset, Adam. But four days is a long time to be tied up on business." Five
degrees warmer, perhaps. No more.

He swiped a hand across his face, feeling the prickle of several days' growth of
beard. When had he last shaved? He couldn't remember. "If you'll just shut up, I'll explain
everything." He glared through the windowed wall of his temporary office. Numerous eyes
which had been surreptitiously watching him were suddenly aimed at ledger sheets and
computer screens. Damn it! He was too tired for stupid games. "I'm in Taiwan."

"You don't own me any expla... you're where?"

"Taiwan," he repeated, feeling fatigue seeping through him. He'd been fine until
he sat down. Now he didn't know if he'd ever stand again. "Labor problems. I've been here
since Sunday...Saturday...whenever."

"Oh, Adam, and I thought...." Her voice was warm now, and so sweet he ached
with missing her. "You sound so tired."

"Half dead is more like it. I haven't seen a bed since I got here. And it's going to
get worse before it gets better." Twice he'd sacked out on the couch in this office, and he
was about ready to collapse there again. "About Friday night, Stell. I want you to know it
was the best... it was great... oh, hell. I feel like I'm sitting in the middle of a goldfish
bowl."

Distance hummed in his ear.

"I was beginning to wonder if you never wanted to see me again." Hesitant, almost
apologetic, her words made him realize how fragile her self-confidence was, right now. "I
just sort of took over, without giving you a chance to tell me what you wanted."

"Stell, believe me, you gave me what I wanted," he said, growing hard at the
memory of what she'd done for him, to him. "It was one of the most exciting experiences
of my life."

He couldn't remember ever being as turned on as he had been by her
aggressiveness. No matter what he heard about modern women being more demanding of
their sexual rights, it was his experience that most of them tended to let the man take the
leading role in lovemaking.

Stell hadn't. She'd known what she wanted to do and she'd done it. Oh, God, had
she done it!

"Really?" A plea for reassurance.

"Absolutely. You can have your way with me anytime, Stell, anytime at all."
As long as I get equal opportunity.
"But there are better ways, you know."

The secret glances of the entire office were making his skin crawl. He swiveled
his chair around and glowered at a painting of a schooner against a preposterous
sunset.

"I know." Her voice had lost its tentative quaver. She hesitated and he could
almost see her, twisting the phone cord around her finger, biting her lower lip.

Someone knocked. "Look, I can't talk now. I just wanted to let you know not to
expect to hear from me much for a few days."

"I won't. Adam?"

"Hmmm?" God how he wanted to sleep!

"Take care of yourself."

"As well as I can."

"How about a picnic when you come home?"

"The very next day," he promised. "I'll call you."

He sat in the chair for several minutes after hanging up. It took him that long to
convince his body that it couldn't possibly maintain a state of sexual readiness until he got
back to Portland.

* * * *

Ten days later Adam finally appeared at her door. He'd called once to say he was
coming home, but a few hours later his secretary had called to say he'd had to stay on.

Twice more Donna--she was beginning to seem like an old friend--had called to
inform her Adam's return had again been postponed. He'd called the day before yesterday
from the airport, pleading terminal exhaustion, but promising to be recovered and ready for
a picnic today.

In the interim, Stell had found herself wondering if it wouldn't be better if Adam
never came back. During his absence it had been easier to cope with her doubts, to reaffirm
her goals.

She knew she was getting too involved with him. Sooner or later she would be
back in training and would have little time for him. What would he do then?

Need she ask? He'd put up with her cycling every night and on weekends at first,
complaining all the while. Then he'd drop an ultimatum on her: choose between the cycling
and him, fully expecting her to choose him. No man could conceive of there being
anything in a woman's life more important than himself.

And when she chose to pursue her dream, he'd walk. He'd be out the door faster
than she could sprint across a finish line.

Stell leaned against the wall, almost afraid to answer the door. All she had to do
was pretend she wasn't home--stand him up--and he wouldn't break her heart in a few
weeks.

No, because she'd do the breaking herself today if she did. It was too late to
protect herself. She was already in love with Adam and nothing she could do was going to
change anything.

After a few deep, steadying breaths, she swung the door wide. "Right on time,"
she said, her pulse accelerating at the very sight of him in khaki walking shorts and a
khaki-and-red Madras shirt. "C'mon in. Everything's ready."

"In a minute," he said, pulling her into his arms.

Stell felt her body molding itself to him. How quickly it had learned to do that.
She lifted her face for his kiss.

"Mmmm," he purred, his tongue flickering along her lips. "I've missed you
forever."

She drew his lower lip into her mouth, bit gently. The effect was immediate. His
instant arousal kindled a fire within her. Writhing against him, she murmured, "Are you
sure you want to go on a picnic?"

"No, but I think we'd better, don't you?"