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deepest, darkest secrets of my past. That's the drawback of families. Also,'
he added, as she looked dissatisfied with his answer, 'I don't bring many girls
home.'
Trista considered. 'Because you don't date many, or because you prefer to
keep them away from your family?'
'I've dated a few,' he said. 'I'm nearly thirty.'
'Most men of your age are married. Is your family getting anxious?'
'Not that I'm aware of. Are you asking me why I'm not married?'
'No. But why?'
'I suppose I haven't met the right girl or woman, as Charley would insist I
should say.'
'Are you choosy?'
'When it comes to marriage, yes.'
She would have liked to ask him what he was looking for, but as she was
framing the words they were interrupted by a hearty young man who seemed
to be an old friend of the family, and then there was very little chance to talk
to him alone. Pierce introduced her to lots of people, got her a plate of steak
and salad and baked potatoes, and later a dish of fruit and cream, kept her
glass filled with sparkling white wine, and even danced with her. But
although she enjoyed herself Trista felt that he was treating her rather as he
might a younger cousin. Except that he seemed to have no desire to cuddle
her, she might have been Kirsten.
She was vaguely conscious that some of Charley's male friends had been
eyeing her with interest. She was accustomed to that, and it didn't bother her.
When one of them asked her to dance, she went willingly with him up the
steps to the terrace where several couples were stamping and gyrating to
heavy beat. Charley waved to her and grinned. 'Watch him,' she advised
gaily, raising her voice above the music. 'Gordon's dancing is wild!'
'Don't listen to her,' the young man said loftily. 'She's just jealous.'
Gordon was inventive, but she found it fun trying to keep up with him. He
soon saw that she could, and with a wide smile threw her a challenging look
and became even more adventurous.
Trista, her ponytail swinging, laughed and followed all the way. Soon the
music took her over, and she moved with it, to the drumbeat in her soul, her
body flowing into it. When the beat became slower, she swayed her hips and
moved her shoulders, tipping back her head to drink in the sound, eyes
almost closed, only half aware of her partner, whose steps she was matching
as they became less frenetic, more smoothly rhythmical.
When the tape ended, she came back to earth, giving him a languid smile as
he said, 'You're great! Let's dance again.'
She shook her head. 'Later, maybe.'
He said. 'You're with Charley's brother, aren't you? Isn't he a lawyer, or
something? And you're his boss's daughter, aren't you?'
'How did you know?'
'Charley said something, I think. Listen, are you I mean, do you see other
guys?'
'I might.' She looked at him from under her lashes, and he flushed and
swallowed. 'Well, I wondered if you'd like to come out with me one
night or day.'
'I might,' she said again. 'Call me some time.'
'Give me your number.' He hauled a battered little diary out of his back
pocket, with a pencil tucked in its spine.
'Here.' She took them from him and wrote down the number herself.
When she walked down the steps, she saw Pierce lounging on the lowest
one, a glass in one hand, watching her.
'Giving him your phone number?' he enquired.
'Yes. Do you mind?'
He regarded her thoughtfully. 'Were you hoping I would?'
She was standing directly in front of him as he got to his feet. She looked
into his eyes and saw laughter in them.
Angry, she said, 'I really don't care. You don't have any rights over me.'
His brows went up. 'Have I claimed any?'
Knowing that it was his apparent indifference that was making her frustrated
and furious, she took a firm hold on her temper, and gave him a dazzling
smile, the one that practically never failed to reduce a man to a stammering
incoherent jellyfish. 'Perhaps,' she purred, looking at him in a certain way, 'I
wish you would.'
To her utter chagrin, he laughed outright. Her mouth went tight, and she
stared at him with near-hatred, but he didn't seem to notice. Taking her hand,
he said tolerantly, 'Come and dance with me. This is my kind of music.'
It was a trumpet solo, slow and dreamy. As he took her in his arms she was
stiff, and he looked down at her with surprise. 'Are you offended with me?'
She shrugged. 'Of course not.' Making an effort, she relaxed against him,
melting fluidly into his encircling arms. Her hands slid up his shirt to link
behind his neck, the fingers moving into the soft hair lying on his nape. Her
eyes, wide and innocent, met an enigmatic gaze that made her steps falter.
'Sorry,' she said, picking up- the rhythm again. She removed her gaze and
laid her head against his shoulder. He felt good, warm and strong. She
thought of Kirsten snuggling up to him . . .
Lifting her head, she said, 'Do you like children?'
A smile lit his eyes, and she wished crossly that he didn't find every second
thing she said funny. 'I like my niece and nephew,' he said. 'And some of the
other children I know. One or two I've found pretty horrible.' He added,
'Quite a few of my friends have kids. As you pointed out earlier, most men of
my age are married with families.'
And she had asked him why he wasn't. Suddenly she felt depressed. 'I don't
want to dance any more.' She pulled away from him.
'Was it something I said?' he asked humorously.
'I'm thirsty. Is there any more wine?'
'Plenty. You've had a fair bit already.'
'So?' She turned on him, a hostile glint in her eyes.
'So,' he said softly, 'are you sure you can handle any more?'
'Is that anything to do with you?'
'You're my guest--''I'm Charley's guest. And you're not my big brother!'
She glared at him, and he made her an ironic little bow. 'All right. More wine
for the lady.'
Soon after he handed it to her, and she had defiantly drunk half of it in a few
minutes, his father called for silence, and Charley was asked to cut a large
birthday cake. Amid cheers and singing they drank a toast to her, Trista
finishing her wine.
After that the world seemed brighter, and she threw herself into enjoying the
party, dancing again with Gordon, and with a couple of other men, joining a
cluster of young people around Charley and sharing in the laughter as they
told stories about her, taking part in a game that someone decided would be
fun and that involved teams of six trying to pass a lemon down the line and [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]