* * *
Her words about taking each day as it came were forcefully brought to Ellen’s mind the following evening. She’d gone to the store and noticed Reed’s Porsche parked in the driveway. When she returned, both Reed and the sports car had disappeared.
He was with Danielle.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Why couldn’t I see that?” Ellen moaned, looking over the algebraic equation Reed had worked out. “If I can fix a stopped-up sink, tune a car engine and manage a budget, why can’t I understand something this simple?” She was quickly losing a grip on the more advanced theories they were now studying.
“Here, let me show it to you again.”
Her hand lifted the curls off her forehead. “Do you think it’ll do any good?”
“Yes, I do.” Reed obviously had more faith in her powers of comprehension than she did. Step by step, he led her through another problem. When he explained the textbook examples, the whole process seemed so logical. Yet when she set out to solve a similar equation on her own, nothing went right.
“I give up.” Throwing her hands over her head, she leaned back in the kitchen chair and groaned. “I should’ve realized that algebra would be too much for me. I had difficulty memorizing the multiplication tables, for heaven’s sake.”
“What you need is a break.”
“I couldn’t agree more. Twenty years?” She stood up and brought the cookie jar to the table. “Here, this will help ease the suffering.” She offered him a chocolate-chip cookie and took one herself.
“Be more patient with yourself,” Reed urged.
“There’s only two weeks left in this term—and then exams. I need to understand this stuff and I need to understand it now.”
He laid his hands on her shoulders, massaging gently. “No, you don’t. Come on, I’m taking you to a movie.”
“I’ve got to study,” she protested, but not too strenuously. Escaping for an hour or two sounded infinitely more appealing than struggling with these impossible equations.
“There’s a wonderful foreign film showing at the Moore Egyptian Theatre and we’re going. We can worry about that assignment once we get back.”
“But, Reed—”
“No buts. We’re going.” He took her firmly by the hand and led her into the front hall. Derek and Monte were watching TV and the staccato sounds of machine guns firing could be heard in the background. Neither boy noticed them until Reed opened the hall closet.
“Where are you two headed?” Derek asked, peering around the living-room door as Reed handed Ellen her jacket.
“A movie.”
Instantly Derek muted the television. “The two of you alone? Together?”
“I imagine there’ll be one or two others at the cinema,” Reed responded dryly.
“Can I come?” Monte had joined Derek in the doorway.
Instantly Derek’s elbow shoved the other boy in the ribs. “On second thought, just bring me back some popcorn, okay?”
“Sure.”
Ellen pulled a knit cap over her ears. “Do either of you want anything else? I’d buy out the concession stand if one of you felt inclined to do my algebra assignment.”
“No way.”
“Bribing them won’t help,” Reed commented.
“I know, but I was hoping. …”
It was a cold, blustery night. An icy north wind whipped against them as they hurried to Reed’s truck. He opened the door for her before running around to the driver’s side.
“Brr.” Ellen shoved her hands inside her pockets. “If I doubted it was winter before, now I know.”
“Come here and I’ll warm you.” He patted the seat beside him, indicating that she should slide closer.
Willingly she complied, until she sat so near him that her thigh pressed against his. Neither of them moved. It had been several days since they’d been completely alone together and longer still since he’d held or kissed her without interruption. The past week had been filled with frustration. Often she’d noticed Reed’s gaze on her, studying her face and her movements, but it seemed that every time he touched her one of the boys would unexpectedly appear.
Reed turned to her. Their thoughts seemed to echo each other’s; their eyes locked hungrily. Ellen required no invitation. She’d been longing for his touch. With a tiny cry she reached for him just as his arms came out to encircle her, drawing her even closer.
“This is crazy,” he whispered fervently into her hair.
“I know.”
As though he couldn’t deny himself any longer, he cradled her face with both hands and he slowly lowered his mouth to hers.
Their lips clung and Reed’s hand went around her ribs as he held her tight. The kiss was long and thoroughly satisfying.
Panting, he tore his mouth from hers and buried his face in her neck. “We’d better get to that movie.”
It was all Ellen could do to nod her head in agreement.
They moved apart and fastened their seat belts, both of them silent.
When Reed started the truck, she saw that his hand was trembling. She was shaking too, but no longer from the cold. Reed had promised to warm her and he had, but not quite in the way she’d expected.
They were silent as Reed pulled onto the street. After days of carefully avoiding any kind of touch, any lingering glances, they’d sat in the driveway kissing in direct view of curious eyes. She realized the boys could easily have been watching them.
Ellen felt caught up in a tide that tossed her closer and closer to a long stretch of rocky beach. Powerless to alter the course of her emotions, she feared for her heart, afraid of being caught in the undertow.
“The engineering department is having a Christmas party this weekend at the Space Needle,” Reed murmured.
Ellen nodded. Twice in the past week he’d left the house wearing formal evening clothes. He hadn’t told her where he was going, but she knew. He’d driven the Porsche and he’d come back smelling of expensive perfume. For a Christmas party with his peers, Reed would escort Danielle. She understood that and tried to accept it.
“I want you to come with me.”
“Reed,” she breathed, uncertain. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” His hand reached for hers. “I want you with me.”
“The boys—”
“Forget the boys. I’m tired of playing games with them.”
Her smile came from her heart. “I am, too,” she whispered.
“I’m going to have a talk with them.”
“Don’t,” she pleaded. “It’s not necessary to say anything.”
“They’ll start in with their teasing,” he warned. “I thought you hated that.”
“I don’t care as much anymore. And if they do, we can say something then.”
He frowned briefly. “All right.”
The Moore Egyptian was located in the heart of downtown Seattle, so parking was limited. They finally found a spot on the street three blocks away. They left the truck and hurried through the cold, arm in arm, not talking. The French film was a popular one; by the time they got to the cinema, a long line had already formed outside.
A blast of wind sliced through Ellen’s jacket and she buried her hands in her pockets. Reed leaned close to ask her something, then paused, slowly straightening.
“Morgan.” A tall, brusque-looking man approached Reed.
“Dailey,” Reed said, quickly stepping away from Ellen.
“I wouldn’t have expected to see you out on a night like this,” the man Reed had called Dailey was saying.
“I’m surprised to see you, too.”
“This film is supposed to be good,” Dailey said.
“Yeah. It’s got great reviews.”
Dailey’s eyes returned to the line and rested on Ellen, seeking an introduction. Reed didn’t give him one. Reed was obviously pretending he wasn’t with Ellen.
She offered the man a feeble smile, wondering why Reed would move away from her, why he wouldn’t intr
oduce her to his acquaintance. The line moved slowly toward the ticket booth and Ellen went with it, leaving Reed talking to Dailey on the pavement. She felt a flare of resentment when he rejoined her a few minutes later.
“That was a friend of a friend.”
Ellen didn’t respond. Somehow she didn’t believe him. And she resented the fact that he’d ignored the most basic of courtesies and left her standing on the sidewalk alone, while he spoke with a friend. The way he’d acted, anyone would assume Reed didn’t want the man to know Ellen was with him. That hurt. Fifteen minutes earlier she’d been soaring with happiness at his unexpected invitation to the Christmas party, and now she was consumed with doubt and bitterness. Perhaps this Dailey was a friend of Danielle’s and Reed didn’t want the other woman to know he was out with Ellen. But that didn’t really sound like Reed.
Once inside the cinema, Reed bought a huge bucket of buttered popcorn. They located good seats, despite the crowd, and sat down, neither of them speaking. As the lights went down, Reed placed his hand on the back of her neck.
Ellen stiffened. “Are you sure you want to do that?”
“What?”
“Touch me. Someone you know might recognize you.”
“Ellen, listen …”
The credits started to roll on the huge screen and she shook her head, not wanting to hear any of his excuses.
But maintaining her bad mood was impossible with the comedy that played out before them. Unable to stop herself, Ellen laughed until tears formed in her eyes; she was clutching her stomach because it hurt from laughing. Reed seemed just as amused as she was, and a couple of times during the film, their smiling gazes met. Before she knew it, Reed was holding her hand and she didn’t resist when he draped his arm over her shoulders.
Afterward, as they strolled outside, he tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow. “I told you a movie would make you feel better.”
It had and it hadn’t. Yes, she’d needed the break, but Reed’s behavior outside the cinema earlier had revived the insecurities she was trying so hard to suppress. She knew she wasn’t nearly as beautiful or sophisticated as Danielle.
“You do feel better?” His finger lifted her chin to study her eyes.
There was no denying that the film had been wonderful. “I haven’t laughed so hard in ages,” she told him, smiling.
“Good.”
* * *
Friday night, Ellen wore her most elaborate outfit—slim black velvet pants and a silver lamé top. She’d spent hours debating whether an evening gown would have been more appropriate, but had finally decided on the pants. Examining herself from every direction in the full-length mirror that hung from her closet door, Ellen released a pent-up breath and closed her eyes. This one night, she wanted everything to be perfect. Her heels felt a little uncomfortable, but she’d get used to them. She rarely had any reason to wear heels. She’d chosen them now because Reed had said there’d be dancing and she wanted to adjust her height to his.
By the time she reached the foot of the stairs, Reed was waiting for her. His eyes softened as he looked at her. “You’re lovely.”
“Oh, Reed, are you sure? I don’t mind changing if you’d rather I wear something else.”
His eyes held hers for a long moment. “I don’t want you to change a thing.”
“Hey, Ellen.” Derek burst out of the kitchen, and stopped abruptly. “Wow.” For an instant he looked as though he’d lost his breath. “Hey, guys,” he called eagerly. “Come and see Ellen.”
The other two joined Derek. “You look like a movie star,” Pat breathed.
Monte closed his mouth and opened it again. “You’re pretty.”
“Don’t sound so shocked.”
“It’s just that we’ve never seen you dressed … like this,” Pat mumbled.
“Are you going out with Charlie?”
Ellen glanced at Reed, suddenly unsure. She hadn’t dated Charlie in weeks. She hadn’t wanted to.
“She’s going out with me,” Reed explained in an even voice that didn’t invite comment.
“With you? Where?” Derek’s eyes got that mischievous twinkle Ellen recognized immediately.
“A party.”
“What about—” He stopped suddenly, swallowing several times.
“You had a comment?” Reed lifted his eyebrows.
“I thought I was going to say something,” Derek muttered, clearly embarrassed, “but then I realized I wasn’t.”
Hiding a smile, Reed held Ellen’s coat for her.
She slipped her arms into the satin-lined sleeves and reached for her beaded bag. “Good night, guys, and don’t wait up.”
“Right.” Monte raised his index finger. “We won’t wait up.”
Derek took a step forward. “Should I say anything to someone … anyone … in case either of you gets a phone call?”
“Try hello,” Reed answered, shaking his head.
“Right.” Derek stuck his hand in his jeans pocket. “Have a good time.”
“We intend to.”
Ellen managed to hold back her laughter until they were on the front porch. But when the door clicked shut the giggles escaped and she pressed a hand to her mouth. “Derek thought he was going to say something.”
“Then he realized he wasn’t,” Reed finished for her, chuckling. His hand at her elbow guided her down the steps. “They’re right about one thing. You do look gorgeous.”
“Thank you, but I hadn’t expected it to be such a shock.”
“The problem is, the boys are used to seeing you as a substitute mother. It’s suddenly dawned on them what an attractive woman you are.”
“And how was it you noticed?”
“The day I arrived and found you in my kitchen wearing only a bra, I knew.”
“I was wearing more than that,” she argued.
“Maybe, but at the time that was all I saw.” He stroked her cheek with the tip of his finger, then tucked her arm in his.
Ellen felt a warm contentment as Reed led her to the sports car. This was the first time she’d been inside, and the significance of that seemed unmistakable. She sensed that somewhere in the past two weeks Reed had made an unconscious decision about their relationship. Maybe she was being silly in judging the strength of their bond by what car he chose to drive. And maybe not. Reed was escorting her to this party in his Porsche because he viewed her in a new light. He saw her now as a beautiful, alluring woman—no longer as the college student who seemed capable of mastering everything but algebra.
The Space Needle came into view as Reed pulled onto Denny Street. The world-famous Needle, which had been built for the 1962 World’s Fair, rose 605 feet above the Seattle skyline. Ellen had taken the trip up to the observation deck only once and she’d been thrilled at the unobstructed view of the Olympic and Cascade mountain ranges. Looking out at the unspoiled beauty of Puget Sound, she’d understood immediately why Seattle was described as one of the world’s most livable cities.
For this evening, Reed explained, his office had booked the convention rooms on the hundred-foot level of the Needle. The banquet facilities had been an addition, and Ellen wondered what sort of view would be available.
As Reed stopped in front of the Needle, a valet appeared, opening Ellen’s door and offering her his gloved hand. She climbed as gracefully as she could from the low-built vehicle. Her smile felt a little strained, and she took a deep breath to dispel the gathering tension. She wanted everything about the evening to be perfect; she longed for Reed to be proud of her, to feel that she belonged in his life—and in his world.
Her curiosity about the view was answered as soon as they stepped from the elevator into the large room. She glanced at the darkened sky that resembled folds of black velvet, sprinkled with glittering gems. When she had a chance she’d walk over toward the windows. For now, she was more concerned with fitting into Reed’s circle and being accepted by his friends and colleagues.
Bracing herself for the inevitabl
e round of introductions, she scanned the crowd for the man she’d seen outside the cinema. He didn’t seem to be at the party and Ellen breathed easier. If Dailey was there, he would surely make a comment about seeing her with Reed that night, and she wouldn’t know how to respond.
As they made their way through the large room, several people called out to Reed. When he introduced Ellen, two or three of them appeared to have trouble concealing their surprise that he wasn’t with Danielle. But no one mentioned Danielle and they all seemed to accept Ellen freely, although a couple of people gave her curious looks. Eventually, Ellen relaxed and smiled up at Reed.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked, his voice tender.
“Not at all.”
“Would you like something to drink?”
“Please.”
“Wine okay?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Ellen watched Reed cross the room toward the bar. She was absurdly proud of him and made no attempt to disguise her feelings when he returned to her, carrying two glasses of white wine.
“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” he murmured, handing her a glass.
“Why?” she teased, her eyes sparkling. “Does it embarrass you?”
“No. It makes me wish I could ignore everyone in this room and kiss you right this minute.” A slow, almost boyish grin spread across his features.
“That would certainly cause quite a commotion.”
“But not half the commotion it would cause if they knew what else I was thinking.”
“Oh?” She hid a smile by taking another sip of wine.
“Are we back to that word again?”
“Just what do you have in mind?”
He dipped his head so that he appeared to be whispering something in her ear, although actually his lips brushed her face. “I’ll show you later.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
They stood together, listening to the music and the laughter. Ellen found it curious that he’d introduced her to so few people and then only to those who’d approached him. But she dismissed her qualms as petty and, worse, paranoid. After all, she told herself, she was here to be with Reed, not to make small talk with his friends.