“Since we’ll be skipping the banquet, shall we go have dinner somewhere?”
Ellen blinked. Dinner. “I’m not really hungry,” she said.
“Sure you’re hungry,” Ralph insisted. “We’ll stop at a nice restaurant before I drive you home. I know where Reed’s place is, so I know where you live. Don’t look so shocked. I figured it out from what you and Danielle were saying. But don’t worry, I understand—impoverished students sharing a house and all that. So, what do you say? We’ll have a leisurely dinner and get home two hours after Reed. That should set him thinking.”
Ellen didn’t feel in any mood to play games at Reed’s expense. “I’d rather not.”
Ralph’s jovial expression sobered. “You’ve got it bad.”
“I’ll be fine.”
He smiled. “I know you will. Come on, let’s go.”
The night that had begun with such promise had evaporated so quickly, leaving a residue of uncertainty and suspicion. As they neared the house, her composure gradually crumbled until she was nervously twisting the delicate strap of her evening bag over and over between her fingers. To his credit, Ralph attempted to carry the conversation, but her responses became less and less animated. She just wanted to get home and bury her head in her pillow.
By the time Ralph pulled up in front of the Capitol Hill house, they were both silent.
“Would you like to come in for coffee?” she asked. The illusion she’d created earlier of flippant humor was gone now. She hurt, and every time she blinked, a picture of Danielle dancing with Reed came to mind. How easy it was to visualize the other woman’s arms around his neck, her voluptuous body pressed against his. The image tormented Ellen with every breath she took.
“No, I think I’ll make it an early night.”
“Thank you,” she said affectionately. “I couldn’t have handled this without you.”
“I was happy to help. And, Ellen, if you want a shoulder to cry on, I’m available.”
She dropped her gaze to the tightly coiled strap of her bag. “I’m fine. Really.”
He patted her hand. “Somehow I don’t quite believe that.” Opening the car door, he came around to her side and handed her out.
On the top step of the porch, Ellen kissed his cheek. “Thanks again.”
“Good night, Ellen.”
“Night.” She took out her keys and unlocked the front door. Pushing it open, she discovered that the house was oddly dark and oddly deserted. It was still relatively early and she would’ve expected the boys to be around. But not having to make excuses to them was a blessing she wasn’t about to question.
As she removed her coat and headed for the stairs, she noticed the shadows bouncing around the darkened living room. She walked over to investigate and, two steps into the room, heard soft violin music.
Ellen stood there paralyzed, taking in the romantic scene before her. A bottle of wine and two glasses were set out on the coffee table. A fire blazed in the brick fireplace. And the music seemed to assault her from all sides.
“Derek,” she called out.
Silence.
“All right, Pat and Monte. I know you’re here somewhere.”
Silence.
“I’d suggest the three of you get rid of this … stuff before Reed comes home. He’s with Danielle.” With that, she marched up the stairs, uncaring if they heard her.
“With Danielle?” she heard a male voice shout after her.
“What happened?”
Ellen pretended not to hear.
* * *
The morning sun sneaked into her window, splashing the pillow where Ellen lay awake staring sightlessly at the ceiling. Sooner or later she’d have to get out of bed, but she couldn’t see any reason to rush the process. Besides, the longer she stayed up here, the greater her chances of missing Reed. The unpleasantness of facing him wasn’t going to vanish, but she might be able to postpone it for a morning. Although she had to wonder whether Reed was any more keen on seeing her than she was on seeing him. She could always kill time by dragging out her algebra books and studying for the exam—but that was almost as distasteful as facing Reed.
No, she decided suddenly, she’d stay in her room until she was weak with hunger. Checking her wristwatch, she figured that would be about another five minutes.
Someone knocked on her bedroom door. Sitting up, Ellen pulled the sheet to her neck. “Who is it?” she shouted, not particularly eager to talk to anyone.
Reed threw open the door and stalked inside. He stood in the middle of the room with his hands on his hips. “Are you planning to stay up here for the rest of your life?”
“The idea has distinct possibilities.” She glared back at him, her eyes flashing with outrage and ill humor. “By the way, you’ll note that I asked who was at the door. I didn’t say, ‘come in.’” Her voice rose to a mockingly high pitch. “You might have walked in on me when I was dressing.”
A smile crossed his mouth. “Is that an invitation?”
“Absolutely not.” She rose to a kneeling position, taking the sheets and blankets with her, and pointed a finger in the direction of the door. “Would you kindly leave? I’d like to get dressed.”
“Don’t let me stop you.”
“Reed, please,” she said irritably. “I’m not in any mood to talk to you.”
“I’m not leaving until we do.”
“Unfair. I haven’t had my cup of tea and my mouth feels like the bottom of Puget Sound.”
“All right,” he agreed reluctantly. “I’ll give you ten minutes.”
“How generous of you.”
“Considering my frame of mind since you walked out on me last night, I consider it pretty generous.”
“Walked out on you!” She flew off the bed. “That’s a bit much!”
“Ten minutes,” he repeated, his voice low.
The whole time Ellen was dressing, she fumed. Reed had some nerve accusing her of walking out on him. He obviously didn’t have any idea what it had cost her to leave him at that party with Danielle. He was thinking only of his own feelings, showing no regard for hers. He hadn’t even acknowledged that she’d swallowed her pride to save them all from an extremely embarrassing situation.
Four male faces met hers when she appeared in the kitchen. “Good morning,” she said with false enthusiasm.
The three boys looked sheepishly away. “Morning,” they droned. Each found something at the table to occupy his hands. Pat, who was holding his basketball, carefully examined its grooves. Monte read the back of the cereal box and Derek folded the front page of the paper, pretending to read it.
“Ellen and I would like a few minutes of privacy,” Reed announced, frowning at the three boys.
Derek, Monte and Pat stood up simultaneously.
“I don’t think there’s anything we have to say that the boys can’t hear,” she said.
The three boys reclaimed their chairs, looking with interest first at Reed and then at Ellen.
Reed’s scowl deepened. “Can’t you see that Ellen and I need to talk?”
“There’s nothing to discuss,” Ellen insisted, pouring boiling water into her mug and dipping a tea bag in the water.
“Yes, there is,” Reed countered.
“Maybe it would be best if we did leave,” Derek hedged, noticeably uneasy with his brother’s anger and Ellen’s feigned composure.
“You walk out of this room and there will be no packed lunches next week,” Ellen said, leaning against the counter. She threw out the bag and began sipping her tea.
“I’m staying.” Monte crossed his arms over his chest as though preparing for a long standoff.
Ellen knew she could count on Monte; his stomach would always take precedence. Childishly, she flashed Reed a saucy grin. He wasn’t going to bulldoze her into any confrontation.
“Either you’re out of here now, or you won’t have a place to live next week,” Reed flared back. At Derek’s smug expression, Reed added, “And that inc
ludes you, little brother.”
The boys exchanged shocked glances. “Sorry, Ellen,” Derek mumbled on his way out of the kitchen. “I told Michelle I’d be over in a few minutes anyway.” Without another moment’s hesitation, Reed’s brother was out the door.
“Well?” Reed stared at Monte and Pat.
“Yeah, well … I guess I should probably …” Pat looked to Ellen for guidance, his resolve wavering.
“Go ahead.” She dismissed them both with a wave of her hand.
“Are you sure you want us to go?” Monte asked anxiously.
Ellen smiled her appreciation at this small display of mettle. “Thanks, but I’ll be okay.”
The sound of the door swinging back and forth echoed through the kitchen. Ellen drew a deep, calming breath and turned to Reed, who didn’t look all that pleased to have her alone, although he’d gone to some lengths to arrange it. His face was pinched, and fine lines fanned out from his eyes and mouth. Either he’d had a late night or he hadn’t slept at all. Ellen decided it must have been the former.
“Well, I’m here within ten minutes, just as you decreed. If you’ve got something to say, then say it.”
“Don’t rush me,” he snapped.
Ellen released an exaggerated sigh. “First you want to talk to me—and then you’re not sure. This sounds like someone who asked me to a party once. First he wanted me with him—and then he didn’t.”
“I wanted you there last night.”
“Oh, was I talking about you?” she asked in fake innocence.
“You’re not making this easy.” He ploughed his fingers through his hair, the abrupt movement at odds with the self-control he usually exhibited.
“Listen,” she breathed, casting her eyes down. “You don’t need to explain anything. I have a fairly accurate picture of what happened.”
“I doubt that.” But he didn’t elaborate.
“I can understand why you’d prefer Danielle’s company.”
“I didn’t. That had to be one of the most awkward moments of my life. I wanted you—not Danielle.”
Sure, she mused sarcastically. That was why he’d introduced her to so few people. She’d had plenty of time in the past twelve hours to think. If she hadn’t been so blinded by the stars in her eyes, she would have figured it out sooner. Reed had taken her to his company party and kept her shielded from the other guests; he hadn’t wanted her talking to his friends and colleagues. At the time, she’d assumed he wanted her all to himself. Now she understood the reason. The others knew he’d invited Danielle; they knew that Danielle usually accompanied him to these functions. The other woman had an official status in Reed’s life. Ellen didn’t.
“It wasn’t your fault,” she told him. “Unfortunately, under the circumstances, this was unavoidable.”
“I’d rather Danielle had left instead of you.” He walked to her side, deliberately taking the mug of tea from her hand and setting it on the counter. Slowly his arms came around her.
Ellen lacked the will to resist. She closed her eyes as her arms reached around him, almost of their own accord. He felt so warm and vital.
“I want us to spend the day together.”
Her earlier intention of studying for her algebra exam went out the window. Despite all her hesitations, all her doubts and fears, she couldn’t refuse this chance to be with him. Alone, the two of them. “All right,” she answered softly.
“Ellen.” His breath stirred her hair. “There’s something you should know.”
“Hmm?”
“I’m flying out tomorrow morning for two days.”
Her eyes flew open. “How long?”
“Two days, but after that, I won’t be leaving again until the Christmas holidays are over.”
She nodded. Traveling was part of his job, and any woman in his life would have to accept that. She was touched that he felt so concerned for her. “That’s fine,” she whispered. “I understand.”
Ellen couldn’t fault Reed’s behavior for the remainder of the weekend. Saturday afternoon, they went Christmas shopping at the Tacoma Mall. His choice of shopping area surprised her, since there were several in the immediate area, much closer than Tacoma, which was a forty-five-minute drive away. But they had a good time, wandering from store to store. Before she knew it, Christmas would be upon them and this was the first opportunity she’d had to do any real shopping. With Reed’s help, she picked out gifts for the boys and her brother.
“You’ll like Bud,” she told him, licking a chocolate ice-cream cone. They found a place to sit, with their packages gathered around them, and took a fifteen-minute break.
“I imagine I will.” A flash of amusement lit his eyes, then he abruptly looked away.
Ellen lowered her ice-cream cone. “What’s so funny? Have I got chocolate on my nose?”
“No.”
“What, then?”
“You must have forgiven me for what happened at the party.”
“What do you mean?”
“The way you looked into the future and said I’d like your brother, as though you and I are going to have a long relationship.”
The ice cream suddenly became very important and Ellen licked away at it with an all-consuming energy. “I told you before that I feel things have to be one day at a time with us. There are too many variables in our … relationship.” She waved the ice cream in his direction. “And I use that term loosely.”
“There is a future for us.”
“You seem sure of yourself.”
“I’m more sure of you.” He said it so smoothly that Ellen wondered if she heard him right. She would have challenged his arrogant assumption, but just then, he glanced at his wristwatch and suggested a movie.
By the time they returned to the house it was close to midnight. He kissed her with a tenderness that somehow reminded her of an early-summer dawn, but his touch was as potent as a sultry August afternoon.
“Ellen?” he murmured into her hair.
“Hmm?”
“I think you’d better go upstairs now.”
The warmth of his touch had melted away the last traces of icy reserve. She didn’t want to leave him. “Why?”
His hands gripped her shoulders, pushing her away from him, putting an arm’s length between them. “Because if you don’t leave now, I may climb those stairs with you.”
At his straightforward, honest statement, Ellen swallowed hard. “I enjoyed today. Thank you, Reed.” He dropped his arms and she placed a trembling hand on the railing. “Have a safe trip.”
“I will.” He took a step toward her. “I wish I didn’t have to go.” His hand cupped her chin and he drew her face toward his, kissing her with a hunger that shook Ellen to the core. She needed all her strength not to throw her arms around him again.
* * *
Monday afternoon, when Ellen walked into the house after her classes, the three boys were waiting for her. They looked up at her with peculiar expressions on their faces, as though they’d never seen her before and they couldn’t understand how she’d wandered into their kitchen.
“All right, what’s up?”
“Up?” Derek asked.
“You’ve got that guilty look.”
“We’re not the guilty party,” Pat said.
She sighed. “You’d better let me know what’s going on so I can deal with it before Reed gets back.”
Monte swung open the kitchen door so that the dining-room table came into view. In the center of the table stood the largest bouquet of red roses Ellen had ever seen.
A shocked gasp slid from the back of her throat. “Who … who sent those?”
“We thought you’d ask so we took the liberty of reading the card.”
Their prying barely registered in her numbed brain as she walked slowly into the room and removed the small card pinned to the bright red ribbon. It could have been Bud—but he didn’t have the kind of money to buy roses. And if he did, Ellen suspected he wouldn’t get them for his sister.
“Reed did it,” Pat inserted eagerly.
“Reed?”
“We were as surprised as you.”
Her gaze fell to the tiny envelope. She removed the card, biting her lip when she read the message. I miss you. Reed.
“He said he misses you,” Derek added.
“I see that.”
“Good grief, he’ll be back tomorrow. How can he possibly miss you in such a short time?”
“I don’t know.” Her finger lovingly caressed the petals of a dewy rosebud. They were so beautiful, but their message was even more so.
“I’ll bet this is his way of telling you he’s sorry about the party,” Derek murmured.
“Not that any of us actually knows what happened. We’d like to, but it’d be considered bad manners to ask,” Pat explained. “That is, unless you’d like to tell us why he’d take you to the party and then come back alone.”
“He didn’t get in until three that morning,” Monte said accusingly. “You aren’t going to let him off so easy are you, Ellen?”
Bowing her head to smell the sweet fragrance, she closed her eyes. “Roses cover a multitude of sins.”
“Reed’s feeling guilty, I think,” Derek said with authority. “But he cares, or else he wouldn’t have gone to this much trouble.”
“Maybe he just wants to keep the peace,” Monte suggested. “My dad bought my mom flowers once for no reason.”
“We all live together. Reed’s probably figured out that he had to do something if he wanted to maintain the status quo.”
“Right,” Ellen agreed tartly, scooping up the flowers to take to her room. Maybe it was selfish to deprive the boys of their beauty, but she didn’t care. They’d been meant for her, as a private message from Reed, and she wanted them close.
* * *
The following day, Ellen cut her last morning class, knowing that Reed’s flight was getting in around noon. She could ill afford to skip algebra, but it wouldn’t have done her any good to stay. She would’ve spent the entire time thinking about Reed—so it made more sense to hurry home.
She stepped off the bus a block from the house and even from that distance she could see his truck parked in the driveway. It was the first—and only—thing she noticed. She sprinted toward the house and dashed up the front steps.