Grumbling that it was impossible to please the dratted cat, Bailey stalked into her bedroom, throwing open the closet door.
For some time she did nothing but stare at the contents. She finally made her decision, a printed dress she’d worn when she was in college. The paisley print was bright and cheerful, the skirt widely pleated. The style was slightly dated, but it was the best she could do. If Parker had given her even a day’s notice she would have gone out and bought something new. Something red in honor of Valentine’s Day.
* * *
The seats Parker had purchased for the concert at Civic Center were among the best in the house. They were situated in the middle about fifteen rows from the front.
The music was fabulous. Delightful. Romantic. There were classical pieces she recognized, interspersed with soft rock, and a number of popular tunes and “golden oldies.”
The orchestra was spectacular, and being this close to the stage afforded Bailey an opportunity so special she felt tears of appreciation gather in her eyes more than once. Nothing could ever duplicate a live performance.
The warm generous man in her company made everything perfect. At some point, early in the program, Parker reached for her hand. When Bailey’s heartbeat finally settled down to a normal rate, she felt an emotion she hadn’t experienced in more than a year, not since the day Tom had called off their wedding.
Contentment. Complete and utter contentment.
She closed her eyes to savor the music and when she opened them again, she saw Parker studying her. She smiled shyly and he smiled back. And at that moment, cymbals clanged. Bailey jumped in her seat as though caught doing something illegal. Parker chuckled and raised her hand to his lips, gently brushing her knuckles with a kiss.
The second group, Hairspray, performed after the intermission. Bailey found their music unfamiliar with the exception of two or three classic rock numbers. But the audience responded enthusiastically to the group’s energy and sense of fun. Several people got to their feet, swaying to the music. After a while some couples edged into the aisles and started dancing. Bailey would have liked to join them, but Parker seemed to prefer staying where they were. She couldn’t very well leave him sitting there while she sought out a partner. Especially when the only partner she wanted was right beside her.
Eventually nearly everyone around them rose and moved into the aisle, which meant a lot of awkward shifting for Parker and Bailey. She was convinced they were the only couple in the section not on their feet.
She glanced at Parker, but he seemed oblivious to what was happening around them. At one point she thought she heard him grumble about not being able to see the band because of all those people standing.
“Miss?” An older balding man moved into their nearly empty row and tapped Bailey on the shoulder in an effort to get her attention. He wore his shirt open to the navel and had no less than five pounds of gold draped around his neck. Clearly he’d never left the early seventies. “Would you care to dance?”
“Uh...” Bailey certainly hadn’t been expecting an invitation. She wasn’t entirely confident of the protocol. She’d come with Parker and he might object.
“Go ahead,” Parker said, reassuring her. He actually seemed relieved someone else had asked her. Perhaps he was feeling guilty about not having done so himself, Bailey mused.
She shrugged and stood, glancing his way once more to be sure he didn’t mind. He urged her forward with a wave of his hand.
Bailey was disappointed. She wished with all her heart that it was Parker taking her in his arms. Parker, not some stranger.
“Matt Cooper,” the man with the gold chains said, holding out his hand.
“Bailey York.”
He grinned as he slipped his arm around her waist. “There must be something wrong with your date to leave you sitting there.”
“I don’t think Parker dances.”
It had been a long while since Bailey had danced, and she wasn’t positive she’d even remember how. She needn’t have worried. The space was so limited that she couldn’t move more than a few inches in any direction.
The next song Hairspray performed was an old rock song from the sixties. Matt surprised her by placing two fingers in his mouth and whistling loudly. The piercing sound cut through music, crowd noises and applause. Despite herself, Bailey laughed.
The song was fast-paced and Bailey began swaying her hips and moving to the beat. Before she was sure how it had happened, she was quite a distance from her friend. She found herself standing next to a tall good-looking man about Parker’s age, who was obviously enjoying the group’s performance.
He smiled at Bailey and she smiled shyly back. The next song was another oldie, one written with young lovers in mind and perfect for slow dancing.
Bailey tried to make it down the aisle to Parker’s seat, but the row was empty. Although she glanced all around she couldn’t locate him.
“We might as well,” the good-looking man said, holding out his hands to her. “My partner has taken off for parts unknown.”
“Mine seems to have disappeared, too.” Scanning the crowd, she still couldn’t find Parker but then, the area was so congested it was impossible to see anyone clearly. A little worried, she wondered how they’d ever find each other when the concert was over.
She and her new partner danced two or three dances without ever exchanging names. He twirled her about with an expertise that masterfully disguised her own less-inspired movements. They finished a particularly fast dance, and Bailey fanned her face, flushed from the exertion, with one hand.
When Hairspray introduced another love ballad, it seemed only natural for Bailey to slip into her temporary partner’s arms. He said something and laughed. Bailey hadn’t been able to make out his words, but she grinned back at him. She was about to say something herself when she saw Parker edging toward them, scowling.
“My date’s here,” she said, breaking away from the man who held her. She gave him an apologetic look and he released her with a decided lack of enthusiasm.
“I thought I’d lost you,” she said when Parker made it to her side.
“I think it’s time we left,” he announced in clipped tones.
Bailey blinked, surprised by his irritation. “But the concert isn’t over yet.” Cutting a path through the horde of dancers would be difficult, perhaps impossible. “Shouldn’t we at least stay until Hairspray is finished?”
“No.”
“What’s wrong?”
Parker shoved his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t mind you dancing with that Barry Gibb look-alike, but the next thing I know, you’ve taken off with someone else.”
“I didn’t take off with anyone,” she said, disliking his tone as much as his implication. “We were separated by the crowds.”
“Then you should’ve come back to me.”
“You didn’t honestly expect me to fight my way through this mass of humanity, did you? Can’t you see how crowded the aisles are?”
“I made it to you.”
Bailey sighed, fighting the urge to be sarcastic. And lost. “Do you want a Boy Scout award? I didn’t know they issued them for pushing and shoving.”
Parker’s eyes flashed with resentment. “I didn’t push anyone. I think it would be best if we sat down,” he said, gripping her by the elbow and leading her back into a row, “before you make an even greater spectacle of yourself.”
“A spectacle of myself,” Bailey muttered furiously. “If anyone was a spectacle, it was you! You were the only person in ten rows who wasn’t dancing.”
“I certainly didn’t expect my date to take off with another man.” He sank down in a seat and crossed his arms as though he had no intention of continuing this discussion.
“Your date,” she repeated, struggling to hold on to her temper by clenching her fists. “May I remind you this en
tire evening was for the purposes of research and nothing more?”
Parker gave a disbelieving snort. “That’s not how I remember it. At the time, you seemed eager enough.” He laughed, a cynical, unpleasant sound. “I’m not the one who chased after you.”
Standing there arguing with him was attracting more attention than Bailey wanted. Reluctantly she sat down, primly folding her hands in her lap, and stared directly ahead. “I didn’t chase after you,” she informed him through gritted teeth. “I have never chased after any man.”
“Oh, forgive me, then. I could have sworn it was you who followed me off the subway. Were you aware that someone who closely resembles you stalked me all the way into Chinatown?”
“Oh-h-h,” Bailey moaned, throwing up her hands, “you’re impossible.”
“What I am is correct.”
Bailey didn’t deign to reply. She crossed her legs and swung her ankle ferociously until the concert finally ended.
Parker didn’t say a word as he escorted her to his car, which was fine with Bailey. She’d never met a more unreasonable person in her life. Less than an hour earlier, they’d practically been drowning in each other’s eyes. She’d allowed herself to get caught up in the magic of the moment, that was all. Some Valentine’s Day!
They parted with little more than a polite goodnight. Bailey informed him there was no need to see her to her door. Naturally he claimed otherwise, just to be obstinate. She wanted to argue, but knew it would be a waste of breath.
Max was at the door to greet her, his tail waving in the air. He stayed close to her, rubbing against her legs, and Bailey nearly tripped over him as she hurriedly undressed. She started to tell him about her evening, changed her mind and got into bed. She pulled the covers up to her chin, forcing the cantankerous Parker Davidson from her mind.
* * *
Jo Ann was waiting for her outside the BART station the following morning. “Well?” she said, racing to Bailey’s side. “How was your date?”
“What date? You couldn’t possibly call that outing with Parker a date.”
“I couldn’t?” Jo Ann was clearly puzzled.
“We attended the Pops Concert—”
“For research,” Jo Ann finished for her. “I gather the evening didn’t go well?” They filed through the turnstile and rode the escalator down to the platform where they’d board the train.
“The whole night was a disaster.”
“Tell Mama everything,” Jo Ann urged.
Bailey wasn’t in the mood to talk, but she made the effort to explain what had happened and how unreasonable Parker had been. She hadn’t slept well, convinced she’d made the same mistake with Parker as she had with the other men in her life. All along she’d assumed he was different. Not so. Parker was pompous, irrational and arrogant. She told Jo Ann that. “I was wrong about him being a hero,” she said bleakly,
Jo Ann frowned. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight. People started dancing. One man asked you to dance, then you got separated and danced with another guy and Parker acted like a jealous fool.”
“Exactly.” It infuriated Bailey every time she thought about it, which she’d been doing all morning.
“Of course he did,” Jo Ann said enthusiastically, as though she’d just made an important discovery. “Don’t you see? He was being true to character. Didn’t more or less the same thing happen between Janice and Michael when they went to the concert?”
Bailey had completely forgotten. “Now that you mention it, yes,” she admitted slowly.
The train arrived. When the screeching came to a halt, Jo Ann said, “I told Parker all about that scene myself, remember?”
Bailey did, vaguely.
“When you sit down to rewrite it, you’ll know from experience exactly what Janice was feeling and thinking because those were the very thoughts you experienced yourself. How can you be angry with him?”
Bailey wasn’t finding it difficult.
“You should be grateful.”
“I should?”
“Oh, yes,” Jo Ann insisted. “Parker Davidson is more of a hero than either of us realized.”
Nine
“Don’t you understand what Parker did?” Jo Ann asked when they met for lunch later that same day. The topic was one she refused to drop.
“You bet I understand. He’s a... Neanderthal, only he tried to be polite about it. As if that makes any difference.”
“Wrong,” Jo Ann argued, looking downright mysterious. “He’s given you some genuine insight into your character’s thoughts and actions.”
“What he did,” Bailey said, waving her spoon above her cream-of-broccoli soup, “was pretty well ruin what started out as a perfect evening.”
“You said he acted like a jealous fool, but you’ve got to remember that’s exactly how Michael reacted when Janice danced with another man.”
“Then he went above and beyond the call of duty, and I’m not about to reward that conduct in a man, hero or not.” She crumbled her soda crackers into her soup, then brushed her palms free of crumbs.
Until Bailey accepted the invitation to dance, her evening with Parker had been wonderfully romantic. They’d sat together holding hands, while the music swirled and floated around them. Then the dancing began and her knight in shining armor turned into a fire-breathing dragon.
“You haven’t forgotten the critique group is meeting tonight, have you?” Jo Ann asked, abruptly changing the subject.
Bailey’s head was so full of Parker that she had, indeed, forgotten. She’d been absentminded lately. “Tonight?”
“Seven, at Darlene’s house. You’ll be there, won’t you?”
“Of course.” Bailey didn’t need to think twice. Every other week, women from their writing group took turns hosting a session in which they evaluated one another’s work.
“Oh, good. For a moment I wondered whether you’d be able to come.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Bailey demanded. She was as dedicated as the other writers. She hadn’t missed a single meeting since the group was formed two months ago.
“Oh, I thought you might be spending the evening with Parker. You two need to work out your differences. You’re going to be miserable until this is resolved.”
Bailey slowly lowered her spoon. “Miserable?” she repeated, giving a brief, slightly hysterical laugh. “Do I look like I’m the least bit heartbroken? Honestly, Jo Ann, you’re making a mountain out of a molehill. The two of us had a falling out. I don’t want to see him, and I’m sure he feels the same way. I won’t have any problem making the group tonight.”
Jo Ann calmly drank her coffee, then just as calmly stated, “You’re miserable, only you’re too proud to admit it.”
“I am not miserable,” Bailey asserted, doing her utmost to smile serenely.
“How much sleep did you get last night?”
“Why? Have I got circles under my eyes?”
“No. Just answer the question.”
Bailey swallowed uncomfortably. “Enough. What’s with you? Have you taken up writing mystery novels? Parker Davidson and I had a parting of the ways. It would have happened eventually. Besides, it’s better to learn these sorts of things in the beginning of a...relationship.” She shrugged comically. “A bit ironic to have it end on Valentine’s Day.”
“So you won’t be seeing him again?” Jo Ann made that sound like the most desolate of prospects.
“We probably won’t be able to avoid a certain amount of contact, especially while he’s taking the subway, but for the record, no. I don’t intend to ever go out with him again. He can save his caveman tactics for someone else.”
“Someone else?” Jo Ann filled the two words with tearful sadness. Until Parker, Bailey had seen only the tip of the iceberg when it came to her friend’s romantic nature.
Bailey fini
shed her soup and, glancing at her watch, realized she had less than five minutes to get back to the office.
“About tonight—I’ll give you a ride,” Jo Ann promised. “I’ll be by to pick you up as close to six-thirty as I can. It depends on how fast I can get home and get everyone fed.”
“Thanks,” Bailey said. “I’ll see you then.”
They parted and Bailey hurried back to her office. The large vase of red roses on the reception desk was the first thing she noticed when she walked in.
“Is it your birthday, Martha?” she asked as she removed her coat and hung it on the rack.
“I thought it must be yours,” the secretary replied absently.
“Mine?”
“The card has your name on it.”
Bailey’s heart went completely still. Had Parker sent her flowers? It seemed too much to hope for, yet... “My name’s on the card?”
“A tall good-looking man in a suit delivered them not more than ten minutes ago. He seemed disappointed when I said you’d taken an early lunch. Who is that guy, anyway? He looks vaguely familiar.”
Bailey didn’t answer. Instead she removed the envelope and slipped out the card. It read, “Forgive me, Parker.”
She felt the tightness around her heart suddenly ease.
“Oh, I nearly forgot,” Martha said, reaching for a folded slip of paper next to the crystal vase. “Since you weren’t here, he left a message for you.”
Carrying the vase with its brilliant red roses in one hand and her message in the other, Bailey walked slowly to her desk. With eager fingers, she unfolded the note.
“Bailey,” it said. “I’m sorry I missed you. We need to talk. Can you have dinner with me tonight? If so, I’ll pick you up at seven. Since I’ll be tied up most of the afternoon, leave a message with Roseanne.”
He’d written down his office number. Bailey reached for the phone with barely a thought. The friendly—and obviously efficient—receptionist answered on the first ring.
“Hello, Roseanne, this is Bailey York.”